Cultural exchange between Filipinos, Saudis
Filipinos gather at the Corniche Commercial Center in Jeddah, where money remittance centers are located.
JEDDAH, Saudi Arabia—There’s a joke among us Filipinos in Jeddah that Balad, a commercial center in the southern side of the city, belongs to us, while the neighboring Sarafiya center belongs to the Indians: Sa inyo ang Sarafiya, amin ang Balad.
The joke was inspired by the Filipino movie “Sa Iyo ang Cavite, Akin ang Tondo (Cavite is yours, Tondo is mine).”
Within the Kingdom outside Jeddah, Balad has its counterparts—Batha in Riyadh and Al-Shoula in Al-Khobar. These places teem with Filipinos especially on Fridays, the rest day in Middle Eastern countries.
In central Jeddah, the Sarawat supermarket, a favorite shopping center of Filipinos who find Balad quite far and where a Jollibee fastfood outlet is located, is a hangout mostly for Filipino-Muslim migrants from Mindanao.
Cultural exchange
In the Kingdom, many Saudis as well as other nationals here have learned to speak the Filipino language. It has become common to hear people of other races call us pare (pal) or a storekeeper tell us that his wares are mura (cheap) and even poke fun: “Kuripot ka, Ilocano ka siguro (You’re penny pincher, you must be Ilocano)” when you try to strike a bargain.
In key trading centers where there are concentrations of Filipino expatriates, Filipino products are on the shelves of supermarkets or even in the baqalas or small neighborhood stores.
In turn, we have picked up a few Arabic words—not to mention those who have learned to speak the language fluently—and have learned to like a recipe or two of Arabic food.
We have become part of the Kingdom, its history and culture, as the Kingdom has become part of us, of our consciousness, our psyche. Many of us have learned to like the Kingdom, where all of us (except for those who have run away from their employers and are forced to stay outdoors) sleep in air-conditioned rooms.
We have learned to appreciate the landscape of wide streets and modern buildings—mostly painted white, light brown, and shades in between—framed against the Saudi sky. Many of us bought our first cars here, a thing that could have remained a pipe dream had we stayed in our own country.
But, despite all the good tidings, at the back of our minds there is that sense of disquiet that Saudi Arabia is just not our home. Sooner or later, we will have to go and the Kingdom will be just another memory for us.
For one thing, the country does not open its doors to non-Arabs, particularly those coming from Asia, to become permanent residents, much less to become citizens. And even if it does, the majority of the Filipinos, particularly the Christians, would not dream of staying here for good.
For many of us, Saudi Arabia is just a financial shelter from the economic storm that has battered our country. Those who dream of immigrating to some Western countries like Canada, Australia, and New Zealand find Saudi Arabia a convenient gateway to get where they want to go.
A temporary home
Although “Saudization”—the Kingdom’s program to eventually replace expatriates with Saudi nationals in jobs that the natives have learned to do—is proceeding at a snail’s pace, the writing on the wall is that sooner or later we will have to pack our bags.
The banks have already been taken over by Saudi professionals, except the position of tea boys (tea servers) because the Saudis don’t want to do menial work. The HR (Human Resources) departments and reception desks of many companies and hospitals are now being manned mostly by Saudis. There’s an anecdote going around here that expatriates are reluctant to train Saudis to do their jobs because it’s like putting nooses around their own necks.
The Filipino diaspora in Saudi Arabia consists of professionals and skilled blue-collar workers: engineers, accountants, nurses, IT specialists, teachers, a few journalists, storekeepers, mechanics, and building maintenance workers. The laborers have become less conspicuous after the construction boom slowed down. And so are the maids, whom you only hear of when they land in the news for being battered by their employers.
Over the years, the migration of Filipino workers, many of whom also brought their families along with them, has prompted some enterprising Saudis to open schools for Filipinos across the Kingdom, with the help of Filipino educators. In Jeddah alone, there are at least five schools for Filipino schoolchildren, many of whom are Saudi born. One is owned by a former Filipino nurse who married a Saudi.
Filipino restaurants have also sprung up, many of which are owned by former Filipino workers, backed by their Saudi sponsors. A popular restaurant in Balad, known as “Shawly,” is owned by a former Filipina maid married to a Saudi.
Despite the positive image back home of OFWs as financially well-off, the majority of the OFWs here don’t have enough savings to give them the courage to go home and set up their own businesses. This is the reason why many OFWs choose to immigrate to other countries or stay here until their contracts are no longer renewed due to old age.
According to government statistics, only about four to five percent of the more than one million OFWs in the Middle East countries are financially stable. I surmise that these are the ones whose families have put up businesses while they are working far away.
That reality makes most of us fret when we feel that the Kingdom’s Saudization program—if not old age—will one day catch up with us. Working overseas is not a picnic, as the cliché goes, but for many of us, particularly those who are still young, we will have to look for other work in other countries when the time comes for us to leave. For unlike the Americans, Britons, or other Westerners who came here for adventure or respite, we took the long, lonely road to Balad as a matter of survival.
Within the Kingdom outside Jeddah, Balad has its counterparts—Batha in Riyadh and Al-Shoula in Al-Khobar. These places teem with Filipinos especially on Fridays, the rest day in Middle Eastern countries.
In central Jeddah, the Sarawat supermarket, a favorite shopping center of Filipinos who find Balad quite far and where a Jollibee fastfood outlet is located, is a hangout mostly for Filipino-Muslim migrants from Mindanao.
Cultural exchange
In the Kingdom, many Saudis as well as other nationals here have learned to speak the Filipino language. It has become common to hear people of other races call us pare (pal) or a storekeeper tell us that his wares are mura (cheap) and even poke fun: “Kuripot ka, Ilocano ka siguro (You’re penny pincher, you must be Ilocano)” when you try to strike a bargain.
In key trading centers where there are concentrations of Filipino expatriates, Filipino products are on the shelves of supermarkets or even in the baqalas or small neighborhood stores.
In turn, we have picked up a few Arabic words—not to mention those who have learned to speak the language fluently—and have learned to like a recipe or two of Arabic food.
We have become part of the Kingdom, its history and culture, as the Kingdom has become part of us, of our consciousness, our psyche. Many of us have learned to like the Kingdom, where all of us (except for those who have run away from their employers and are forced to stay outdoors) sleep in air-conditioned rooms.
We have learned to appreciate the landscape of wide streets and modern buildings—mostly painted white, light brown, and shades in between—framed against the Saudi sky. Many of us bought our first cars here, a thing that could have remained a pipe dream had we stayed in our own country.
But, despite all the good tidings, at the back of our minds there is that sense of disquiet that Saudi Arabia is just not our home. Sooner or later, we will have to go and the Kingdom will be just another memory for us.
For one thing, the country does not open its doors to non-Arabs, particularly those coming from Asia, to become permanent residents, much less to become citizens. And even if it does, the majority of the Filipinos, particularly the Christians, would not dream of staying here for good.
For many of us, Saudi Arabia is just a financial shelter from the economic storm that has battered our country. Those who dream of immigrating to some Western countries like Canada, Australia, and New Zealand find Saudi Arabia a convenient gateway to get where they want to go.
A temporary home
Although “Saudization”—the Kingdom’s program to eventually replace expatriates with Saudi nationals in jobs that the natives have learned to do—is proceeding at a snail’s pace, the writing on the wall is that sooner or later we will have to pack our bags.
The banks have already been taken over by Saudi professionals, except the position of tea boys (tea servers) because the Saudis don’t want to do menial work. The HR (Human Resources) departments and reception desks of many companies and hospitals are now being manned mostly by Saudis. There’s an anecdote going around here that expatriates are reluctant to train Saudis to do their jobs because it’s like putting nooses around their own necks.
The Filipino diaspora in Saudi Arabia consists of professionals and skilled blue-collar workers: engineers, accountants, nurses, IT specialists, teachers, a few journalists, storekeepers, mechanics, and building maintenance workers. The laborers have become less conspicuous after the construction boom slowed down. And so are the maids, whom you only hear of when they land in the news for being battered by their employers.
Over the years, the migration of Filipino workers, many of whom also brought their families along with them, has prompted some enterprising Saudis to open schools for Filipinos across the Kingdom, with the help of Filipino educators. In Jeddah alone, there are at least five schools for Filipino schoolchildren, many of whom are Saudi born. One is owned by a former Filipino nurse who married a Saudi.
Filipino restaurants have also sprung up, many of which are owned by former Filipino workers, backed by their Saudi sponsors. A popular restaurant in Balad, known as “Shawly,” is owned by a former Filipina maid married to a Saudi.
Despite the positive image back home of OFWs as financially well-off, the majority of the OFWs here don’t have enough savings to give them the courage to go home and set up their own businesses. This is the reason why many OFWs choose to immigrate to other countries or stay here until their contracts are no longer renewed due to old age.
According to government statistics, only about four to five percent of the more than one million OFWs in the Middle East countries are financially stable. I surmise that these are the ones whose families have put up businesses while they are working far away.
That reality makes most of us fret when we feel that the Kingdom’s Saudization program—if not old age—will one day catch up with us. Working overseas is not a picnic, as the cliché goes, but for many of us, particularly those who are still young, we will have to look for other work in other countries when the time comes for us to leave. For unlike the Americans, Britons, or other Westerners who came here for adventure or respite, we took the long, lonely road to Balad as a matter of survival.
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