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Description
A stroke of grey painted the afternoon sky overcast on Orchard Road as I skeltered through the drab crowd on the way to Lucky Plaza. A few days of getting lost prior, I asked my uncle Tito Rodriguez where to find remittance centers to deliver a balikbayan box I had in Singapore. “Kailangan mong magpunta sa CBD, tatlong istasyon papuntang Jurong East pagkatapos mong lumipat sa City Hall,” he instructed in a gravelly voice. I reached the entrance to the mall further down where a security guard was stationed, but he only glared at people who entered without frisking any of us.

Just after two flights of escalators was a remittance center, but any relief was fleeting: there was a crowd of other Filipinos queuing outside. Judging from the mix of dispassionate and vexed expressions, they were waiting for a few hours, possibly since late morning. Tito Rodriguez often told stories of his own misfortune from gambling on chance in my childhood when we were in The Philippines, so I joined the queue instead of looking for another center. I thought of more foodstuff and souvenirs I could send with the box in the HDB flat, like Dragon’s Beard Candy and Kueh Lapis, and planned to look for them around Orchard after freight payment.

In front of me, there was a short and thin Filipina in a pink blouse and khaki shorts, accompanied by a Chinese couple; a balding man in a plain white shirt and black baggy pants, and a shorter lady in a purple floral patterned shirt (Tito said that locals would call her clothing style “like an ‘auntie’”). The two were restless in their soft but heated grumbling, though at first I could only make out a few “wah laos” amongst their vernacular of English and Chinese (I
presume Hokkien). Meanwhile, the Filipina remained quiet as she scrunched her lips and looked
downward.

“Aiyoh, why this queue long, ah? I thought this thing going to be short, one.” The auntie complained.

“I almost asked if you can relax or not,” said her husband, “but I also think it was a bad idea to join our maid. How come we never leave?”

“We cannot leave the maid alone, hor. If like that, what if she kana sai get lost or worse? Then it is our fault, right!”

If I had to be honest, I envied the Filipina, who continued her silence while the two argued over her. She didn’t have to concern herself with other co-workers talking behind her back about how we were “stealing” jobs, though if anything, the only thing I’m glad about her is that she helped share the blame of overpopulating the country. She’s just another face in the crowd.

“Hmm?” The balding man noticed his phone ring then checked it.

“What?”

“Walao, my brother’s car got flat tire in the middle of ECP, and he ran out of spare ones.”

“Then?”

“He’s asking us for money to help him buy a replacement.”

“Eh, we cannot use our money! We have to pay our son’s school fee and get groceries at NTUC tomorrow!” The auntie retorted, her face looking around when she turned to the Filipina maid.

“Oi, Jodi! Is it okay we take back this week’s salary? It’s an emergency one.”

The Filipina’s eyes widened, but she replied like a shrinking violet. “Um…maam, I need to send money back na to my husband and kids back in Valenzuela.”

“It’s okay,” the auntie assured, “we can pay you double next month, orright?”

“But…uh…”

“Excuse me maam,” I interrupted, “I think that’s against the law?”

I crumpled up a S$500 dollar bill and held it in a clenched fist below my waist, then glanced at it and then at the Filipina, hoping she saw.

“Who are you? Mind your own business, can or not?”

The Filipina paused for a second, then snatched the bill while the Chinese couple was fixated on me.

“Alamak, this boy looking for trouble, must anyhow but in, izzit?”

“Let’s go away already, this boy ah is so rude…” the auntie said, before the two snatched the Filipina maid from the queue and walked off in a huff.

Feeling the other Filipinos’ eyes on me, I made a beeline to the exit in the opposite direction and headed towards the train station at Orchard. When I reached the rented HDB flat and opened the door, I glanced at the unassembled cardboard box the other side of the living room, and let out a sigh.

“Putangina, looks like no balikbayan this month.”

Description
A stroke of grey painted the afternoon sky overcast on Orchard Road as I skeltered through the drab crowd on the way to Lucky Plaza. A few days of getting lost prior, I asked my uncle Tito Rodriguez where to find remittance centers to deliver a balikbayan box I had in Singapore. “Kailangan mong magpunta sa CBD, tatlong istasyon papuntang Jurong East pagkatapos mong lumipat sa City Hall,” he instructed in a gravelly voice. I reached the entrance to the mall further down where a security guard was stationed, but he only glared at people who entered without frisking any of us.

Just after two flights of escalators was a remittance center, but any relief was fleeting: there was a crowd of other Filipinos queuing outside. Judging from the mix of dispassionate and vexed expressions, they were waiting for a few hours, possibly since late morning. Tito Rodriguez often told stories of his own misfortune from gambling on chance in my childhood when we were in The Philippines, so I joined the queue instead of looking for another center. I thought of more foodstuff and souvenirs I could send with the box in the HDB flat, like Dragon’s Beard Candy and Kueh Lapis, and planned to look for them around Orchard after freight payment.

In front of me, there was a short and thin Filipina in a pink blouse and khaki shorts, accompanied by a Chinese couple; a balding man in a plain white shirt and black baggy pants, and a shorter lady in a purple floral patterned shirt (Tito said that locals would call her clothing style “like an ‘auntie’”). The two were restless in their soft but heated grumbling, though at first I could only make out a few “wah laos” amongst their vernacular of English and Chinese (I
presume Hokkien). Meanwhile, the Filipina remained quiet as she scrunched her lips and looked
downward.

“Aiyoh, why this queue long, ah? I thought this thing going to be short, one.” The auntie complained.

“I almost asked if you can relax or not,” said her husband, “but I also think it was a bad idea to join our maid. How come we never leave?”

“We cannot leave the maid alone, hor. If like that, what if she kana sai get lost or worse? Then it is our fault, right!”

If I had to be honest, I envied the Filipina, who continued her silence while the two argued over her. She didn’t have to concern herself with other co-workers talking behind her back about how we were “stealing” jobs, though if anything, the only thing I’m glad about her is that she helped share the blame of overpopulating the country. She’s just another face in the crowd.

“Hmm?” The balding man noticed his phone ring then checked it.

“What?”

“Walao, my brother’s car got flat tire in the middle of ECP, and he ran out of spare ones.”

“Then?”

“He’s asking us for money to help him buy a replacement.”

“Eh, we cannot use our money! We have to pay our son’s school fee and get groceries at NTUC tomorrow!” The auntie retorted, her face looking around when she turned to the Filipina maid.

“Oi, Jodi! Is it okay we take back this week’s salary? It’s an emergency one.”

The Filipina’s eyes widened, but she replied like a shrinking violet. “Um…maam, I need to send money back na to my husband and kids back in Valenzuela.”

“It’s okay,” the auntie assured, “we can pay you double next month, orright?”

“But…uh…”

“Excuse me maam,” I interrupted, “I think that’s against the law?”

I crumpled up a S$500 dollar bill and held it in a clenched fist below my waist, then glanced at it and then at the Filipina, hoping she saw.

“Who are you? Mind your own business, can or not?”

The Filipina paused for a second, then snatched the bill while the Chinese couple was fixated on me.

“Alamak, this boy looking for trouble, must anyhow but in, izzit?”

“Let’s go away already, this boy ah is so rude…” the auntie said, before the two snatched the Filipina maid from the queue and walked off in a huff.

Feeling the other Filipinos’ eyes on me, I made a beeline to the exit in the opposite direction and headed towards the train station at Orchard. When I reached the rented HDB flat and opened the door, I glanced at the unassembled cardboard box the other side of the living room, and let out a sigh.

“Putangina, looks like no balikbayan this month.”