The Weekly LitWit Challenge 5.5: Yeah, yeah, Yaya
One of the narrators of Mona Simpson’s new novel My Hollywood is the nanny, “Lola, a fifty-two-year-old mother of five who is working in America to pay for her own children’s higher education back in the Philippines.” Let’s hear from Lola in her own words:
I live Sunday in this life. There is a light wind, teasing. The sky you can see through to ships far away at sea. We sit in Starbucks, Bing asleep in his stroller, and I write my letter home. This one is a toddler, very easy. I do not have to clean. My career in America it is up. For the first time, I keep my numbers private. They will guess a raise, but not this big.
I need another international stamp. Tomorrow morning I will walk Williamo to the post office. Those machines take pennies. I will have to find things to stack so he can reach the slot. On the stamps are pictures. I know from Bong Bong, that is the job of someone to draw. But a needle starts in my heel; sand scratches my mouth, opening a bad taste. I never asked for too much, from Bong Bong, from the teachers of my children, even from God. If you ask for only a little, maybe then the answer it will be yes.
We’re all for a Filipino protagonist in a novel by a major American author, but…hmm. Uhh…um…IT’S BLAH. We’ve known lots and lots of yayas, and they’re way more complex and vivacious than that. This one seems a little defeated by life. Foreigners just don’t get it. No matter how hard she has to work and how much time she spends away from her own children, Yaya knows that all things considered, life is good. Yaya is Invincible!!! (Clearly Ms Simpson has not encountered anyone like Gareth’s Yaya in the Gaz 365 blog.)
Your assignment for the Weekly LitWit Challenge 5.5: Write a story told in the first person by a Filipino nanny working in a foreign land. Remember, Yaya is our agent of world domination, and must behave accordingly!
Maximum of 1,000 words, deadline on Saturday, 30 April 2011. The prize is a hardcover copy of My Hollywood by Mona Simpson.
The Weekly LitWit Challenge is brought to you by our friends at National Bookstore.
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
April 26th, 2011 at 00:51
Actually, she should know that no Filipino nanny is called Lola (unless the nanny really is a Lola).
April 26th, 2011 at 01:05
Correct! Maybe she heard Pinoys say, “O ayan na ang lola mo” and assumed that “lola” was a proper name. Wait till she hears that “lola” applies to everyone regardless of age or gender hahaha.
April 26th, 2011 at 11:46
It would have made more sense if they named the yaya “Baby” or “Girlie/Girly/Ghirlee”.
April 26th, 2011 at 14:41
I agree on Pinoy yayas being complex and vivacious. I mean where else can you see a yaya, running after her precocious alaga with a plateful of food, screaming at the top of her lungs,”Juswa,et yur fud na! Jas wan las bayt! Juswaaaaaaaa!!!”.
April 26th, 2011 at 20:26
can you post the link to the gaz 365 blog?
April 26th, 2011 at 20:48
Nope, members only, NSFW.
April 26th, 2011 at 21:05
This Lola doesn’t sound authentic. The writing is not Filipino English. No yaya would write “There is a light wind, teasing”, or “But a needle starts in my heel; sand scratches my mouth, opening a bad taste.” A friend of mine once observed that yayas are fond of starting their letters to loved ones (this was pre-email; pre-texting) with: “Una sa lahat sana ay nasa mabuti kang kalagayan. Kung ako ang iyong tatanungin, mabuti naman ako.” This was how a hardworking, resilient yaya who would brave hellfire for the sake of her family would sound.
April 27th, 2011 at 00:18
“Hay nako, eywan ko ba kay sir. Ang gwapo gwapo. Matipuno. Malaki ang kita. Matangkad. Habol ng habol kay Charlot na yan. E haliparot naman,” buntung-hininga ko, “Samantalang andito naman ako. Tapat na umiibig. Dalagang Pilipina…”
“Hoy! Wag ka ng mag-ambisyon dyan! Asa ka pa! Asikasuhin mo nga si Lily. Here Lily. Sam Ore-o to dank in melk.”
I snatched the cookie from Aling Minda’s hand. “Hmph! Akin na nga. Trabaho ko yan e. O Lily do you want oreo?” I asked impatiently. Lily was mouthy and observant in the booksmart sense. I hated her white skin and uppity smart-alecky way of claiming to know everything. Jusmio, the impertinence of youth.
Lily took the proffered Oreo. “Do you really want into my brother’s pants?”
Aling Minda almost dropped the vase she was polishing. “What?! Lily! Don’t say bad words. Bad!”
“Aling Minda naman OA. Hindi naman bad words yun. Eto o parang hindi nagdalaga.”
“Yan ba yung tinuturo mo sa alaga mo? Pano maging malandi?”
“Grabe naman. Hindi –”
“Can you speak in English? I can’t understand what you’re saying,” Lily interjected.
“Lily, you’re what seven? You’re too young to understand how boys can like girls.”
“Sam and Mary got married yesterday,” Lily offered.
“WAT?! Yor playmates Sam an Mary?!” Aling Minda shouted.
I scoffed, “They can’t get married. They’re eight.”
“No they did. Arty was the priest. I was the witness and the two even kissed. Just on the cheek though. Cause lips are gross,” Lily insisted.
“Well that doesn’t count. A marriage has to have two witnesses.”
“Oh,” Lily sounded confused.
“Besides Lily, little kids like you shouldn’t go about playing marriage. You should enjoy your youth. Play patintero, tumbang-preso, habulan.”
“What?”
“Playing games. You know instead of sitting inside the house all day and reading. You’ll get fat and ugly. Sige. You’re so pale already, look.” I grabbed Lily’s arm and shook it to her face, “You should try to get some sun sometime.”
“No thanks. All the other kids do are pick on each other and whisper behind their backs. Besides, you’re one to talk. Why don’t you go out and go home to the Philippines? I heard Mommy say that you can’t go back because your husband filed for infidelity. You cheated on your family.”
The viciousness of kids. And I once wanted to have lots of children. I can’t help but wonder if Nene is this spiteful. What words would she use to cut me if I were to appear before her? This little monster alone is enough of a waking nightmare.
“Lily, I know you think that reading Nancy Drew and Geronimo Stilton teaches you a lot about life. But the truth is what you’re reading — they’re all crap. Nothing beats the real deal. So if you want to get out of your rain-induced funk now that all of your playmates are busy getting pretend married then I suggest you go out of your lonely little room and start meeting new people. That is, if they want anything to do with your cruel, spiteful self.”
The look on Lily’s face was priceless. “You can’t say that! How dare you say that?! You’re just a maid! I’ll tell on you!!!” she screamed and fled.
Aling Minda tsked. “Ikaw naman o. Bata yun e pinatulan mo pa.”
Nagkibit-balikat ako. “Tama yun para matuto ng leksyon habang bata pa.”
“Patay ka kay Madam nyan.”
“Yung bruhang yun? Magsama pa sila ng tatanga-tanga nyang anak na walang bayag. Hindi ko sila uurungan.” I didn’t really care. There was only one person I was afraid of. And she was back at home, growing without a mother. Do you believe the lies they are currently feeding you my love? That I don’t love you Nene? I may not be a good mother but no woman with an ickle of sense can put up with your momma’s boy of a father. I’ll get you a rich dad soon Nene… And then he’ll help me win the custody battle. I closed my eyes. Better catch up to Lily and say sorry. That kid feeds on adults giving in to her. I put away the plates on the coffee table and went up to Lily’s room.
April 27th, 2011 at 06:50
Have you read Octavia Butler? Take your challenge and substitute “aliens” for “foreigners.” Her story “Bloodchild,” about human slaves who incubate their alien masters’ eggs, won the 1985 Hugo and Nebula awards. It’s a great story about finding the courage and strength to compromise and transcend in the face of an oppressive and horrible situation.
April 27th, 2011 at 18:18
I inhaled the toxic exhaust fumes of cars streaming by as I walk down a noisy HongKong street. I am on my way to buy a Mandarin/Cantonese-English dictionary as was directed by my amo, Madame Tsui.
After washing the dishes last night and as I was preparing to sleep, she summoned me to her boudoir( she insisted to call her bedroom as such). She reminded me in halting English that I should start speaking her language as soon as possible.
” I hate speak English all the time…make my tongue hard…you talk Chinese please soon”, she said between puffs of tobacco.
All I did was nod while holding my breath because I do not want to worsen my asthma.
She actually gave me money to use as fare, but since my parents will be celebrating their golden anniversary soon, I decided to save it and walk. After all, I could also use some exercise to get rid of the toxins that slowly obliterate my body.
Now, I turn left to a dingy alley that looks like the Diagon Alley on those Harry Potter movies. Susmaryosep, it’s too dark here. I might as well did not take this shortcut. Jesus, what if there are thieves or even rapists here? Diyos ko.
I half-ran all the while groping the walls on my side for support. I smelled something funny. Was it urine? No, it’s too acrid. Might be a chemical. You’ll never know with these Chinese people. They seem to invent everything.
Haay salamat, I am now on a lit street with people. I inhaled the air. Achoooo. Shit. I think I will die before my contract ends. Madame Tsui smokes everyday, as much as ten cigars a day. It’s really hard to take care of a stubborn old woman. HongKong air also adds to my respiratory worries. You can even see black smoke entering your nose.
At last, I spotted the old bookstore that Thien, my colleague from Vietnam, told me about. It is rugged and looks haunted. The books on the shelves were gathering dusts and cobwebs. I looked at the titles. The Silmarillion. Anna Karenina. Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Iliad. Susmaryosep, why are these books here? I’ve read these when I was in high school. Sayang naman. The world is getting illiterate, I think.
I saw a tattered yet still intact dictionary near the counter. A note near it says, ‘All Books Buy One Take One’. I am feeling lucky today. As I kept on hearing his name uttered by my amo, I immediately grabbed for a book about Mao Zedong that sits half-open nearby. I paid for the books and went out smelling once again the toxic HongKong air and went back home smiling. I do not know why i was smiling. But then again, my happiness threshold is low. If not, why am I here toiling for a smoking old woman earning a meager sum?
April 29th, 2011 at 07:10
Here in Paris I see a lot of cats, and dogs, and birds. When I asked a passing stranger to take pictures of me near the flock of birds my Alagas, Baptiste, 4, and Margot, 8, laughed hysterically like there’s no tomorrow. I didn’t feel bad or humiliated, I like it better that they laughed, rather than throwing Lego’s to my face.
Saturday I will meet Marlon, a Filipino working as a cashier in one of the souvenir stores near Seine. He asked me on a date, and my “yes” would mean discounts on one of the Eiffel Tower key chains. So I asked Madame Natalie Clement if she’ll allow me to go out this Saturday night. She also laughed hysterically; I’m starting to think that this family is a nutcase. Eventually she said yes, and just told me she’ll get a temporary babysitter, and the rest of what she said was in French, but I’m sure she mentioned about the replacement babysitter being better than I am because she speaks French and I don’t. I’m sure she also costs 4 times of my hourly rate, and she will just leave the children playing “war Lego’s” on the other room while she sneaks her boyfriend in and they make love on the sofa.
Now I think of Marlon a lot. He’s not that good-looking, his French isn’t great, and his stomach is bulging under the black “I Love Paris” shirt. But I easily remember his smile, when he said Salut his lips arched so nicely you would want to grab his stiff Eiffel Tower (the tabletop decor), and pay for it on the counter. We will probably stroll along Seine River, grab some crepes from sidewalk vendors, and take pictures in the park with flying doves on the background. Even if he asked, and with my utmost anticipation, I still, will not sneak him inside the Clement residence. Back in the Phils, I grew up believing that it is A MORTAL SIN to sneak boyfriends in to secretly fool around with them.
April 30th, 2011 at 20:30
I wake up before everyone does. It wasn’t always like this. Back then, not the crowing of roosters or the sound of papa’s walis tingting while he swept the yard around our hut could rouse me. Now, I have to be awake at the sound of the alarm clock. It isn’t so much because I was told to; the family I work for doesn’t care as long as I finish my chores at the end of the day. But I feel that I have to. I’ve gotten used to the routine in fact that even on my day off like today, I’m already up and about.
I walk past the master’s bedroom where I assume at this time, Madeline and Frank are still sleeping. They forbade me from addressing them as ma’am and sir as I was told Americans aren’t fond of this and also due to the fact that we’re all around the same age anyway. They married young and on several occasions they’ve asked me if I didn’t have plans to have a family of my own. I tell them I already have a family to think about, the one back in Manila: My mother and father who are now in their fifties and a brother who by next month should be graduating from highschool. He goes to a private school, mainly a decision I made. I believe this would help him get into a good university and eventually a good job if he got a private secondary education. I wasn’t able to pursue a college degree because we didn’t have the means. I had to look for a job right after highschool and was fortunate to have been referred for employment by a balikbayan neighbor who knew Madeline and Frank.
In the hallway I pick up Hannah’s toys which she has the habit of tossing around. She’ll be going to school soon. Although I enjoy taking her to the park and watching cartoons with her at home, it makes me happier knowing she would now have the chance to make new friends. She asks me often why her parents have to be away all the time, her sad eyes longing for an answer. I tell her they’re busy with work and even then, the truth is not enough to console her. I know what’s it’s like to be away from family, so I understand how she feels.
I finish tidying the house and preparing breakfast. I head out the front yard to check the mailbox. Outside, the sun’s just slightly peering through the clouds and there’s warmth in the breeze that told you spring is in the offing. Some of the neighbors are also up, checking the newspapers that had just been delivered to their porches. I will meet with Imelda and Neri later. We’ll go downtown to the courier for our monthly “padala”. I’ll be sending a little extra for Christian’s graduation. I told mama to fix up a little party for him. My brother’s been very diligent with his studies, so he deserves it. They told me he’s even vying for class valedictorian. I sort through the mail where most pertain to real estate (Hannah’s parents are agents). The one envelope though I notice has mama’s handwriting in front. It wrote. “To: Julie Recuerdo”, and the address below it. I open it and start reading.
I step inside the house to find the family already gathered around the table. Hannah runs towards me and embraces both my legs. I greet her and carry her back to the table to enjoy her bowl of cereal. Frank, is now standing by the sliding door, cup in hand. He looks outside and remarks: “Sun’s up. Looks like it’s going to be a pretty day” and smiles.
I, clutching the letter close to my heart reply: “Yes, pretty day. A pretty day indeed”.
May 1st, 2011 at 11:07
Kayabang yang broha at nakapangasawa lang nang taga-Dungguan, ang chep naman hende makakoha ng tagabantay na taga-Dungguan, kunware ayaw nya ang style na magabotas na pantalun ng bata, sa totoo chep sya talaga, tutalleh!
Kala mu din kagandahan, sa tutuu nagseselus yan at patay na patay sa aken ang asawa nya. So what ef I’m slightly hunchbacked. So what ef I have a woobbly leeft eye and cataract en the right. Basta maganda ako, that wateer deleviry boy prohves it – heh always ducks and blushes wheen heh sehs me. Hendi lang akoo maronoong magmandaren, peero makakatekem den sha.
I’m the beest yaya in the whole world, I am the rehl dehl. Et says soo en my biu deetah:
Name: Imogen Dimacolangan
Address: Block 034 Arogan Matag-ob Leyte
PIN: Wara man
Marital status: Senggol
Sex: Masaya
Birthday: February 14, 1976
Weight: 110 punds
Height: 5-3 enches
Religion: Catulec
Experience: Very much
Languages: Besaya, Cebuano, Tagalug
Thank you.
Like I sid, I im the rehl dehl, a troh oorange yaya. I im not some meddle class colleege graduate ho just wants to have a bitter life, I have the beast life thir es, maengget selah dahel mahaba ang hir ku.
Antayen mu lang ser at soswertehen ka den, jackpat ka sa aken, tengnan naten kong hende mu mapalayas yang brohang mayabang na yan nang mabeles ma sa alas kwatro. Omoweh ka na sa Marekenah, broha.