Dear Nanay

Dear Nanay:
How this Story of a Little Girl

and her OFW Mother
Came to Be
– by Zarah Gagatiga
I was born in Manila in 1974. Two years after the declaration of Martial Law. I grew up an only child
until I was twelve years old. Our household was small but my aunts and uncles on both sides of the
family lived next door so cousins flitted in and out of the family compound. Nanay* Leony, my
maternal grandmother, ran a sari-sari store* that sold everything from safety pins to San Miguel Pale
Pilsen. There were also Tagalog comics for rent. I read them after school as part of my recreatory
reading list.
We had a garden abloom with flowers all year round because Nanay Leony knew what to plant
during the dry and the rainy seasons. Her vegetable garden produced root crops, tubers, herbs and
spices, and greens that often ended up in a dish on our dinner table. Trees grew in the backyard:
coconut, mango, banana, palm, santol,* tamarind, camias,* star apple, atis,* to mention a few.
Everyone knew everybody in the neighbourhood. I played with my cousins and the neighbourhood
kids. I walked with them to school. We heard mass on Sundays. On lazy summer days, my cousins
and I would take naps in the afternoon. We would wake up to late noon snacks
of ginataan,* turon,*porridge, kamote fries* or biko* , especially cooked by our favourite aunts.
There were stories and songs to share until it was time to watch Voltes V and Mazinger Z. We were
heartbroken when these TV shows were cancelled. We were too young to understand what it meant.
When the rains came, we bathed. When big storms brought in the flood, we waited until the water
receded. The nearby creek would swell and this gave us a reason to launch our homemade paper
boats. Water leaked in easily so we would either swim or catch fish next. We got lucky on some days
to bring home gourami and tilapia. No one dared bring home tadpoles since none of us wished to
bear the brunt of our grandmother’s wrath. Fishes were alright. Frogs, not so.
I could say I had a happy childhood. My world was safe and secure from the violence and horrors of
Martial Law. My parents and the adults in my family tried their best to keep life simple yet abundant
with laughter, songs, stories and playtime. They surrounded us with the basics, enough space to
move about and the freedom to express oneself, though, controlled at times. But unexpected events
in life, big or small, can throw anyone off balance.
The Philippine economy collapsed at the onset of the 80s and this prompted my grandfather to work
in Saudi Arabia after an early retirement from the Philippine Navy. A year later, my father, who was
at the time an esteemed public school teacher, followed suit. My grandfather and my father became
Overseas Filipino Workers (OFW).
Illustration by Liza Flores from Dear Nanay ©Liza Flores
I wasn’t spared from the effects and repercussions of Martial Law at all. At nine years old, I accepted
my mother’s explanation of the situation. Papa will bring home dollars. Savings for a better future.
Never mind the long years apart. Sacrifice today for a better tomorrow. Nanay Leony who was
pragmatic and practical, a survivor of World War II, took it all in her stride. But I got a sense of their
longing and loneliness. There were nights when my mother cried herself to sleep and Nanay Leony
kept singing sad Bicolano songs. It was a confusing time. The Sanrio toys, dolls and cool gadgets
from Saudi Arabia did little to justify the empty chairs at the dinner table, especially on birthdays and
during Christmas. After two years working abroad, my father decided to come back home for good.
This filled me with joy, but it took me a while to reconnect with my father.
It is this experience of growing up with an OFW parent that is the backdrop of Dear Nanay (Lampara
House, 2013). But it was my trip to Singapore in 2002 that was the lynchpin for the poem that
became a narrative in verse and eventually, a picture book for children.
My attendance at the 2nd Storytelling Congress in Singapore that year allowed me to meet and
interact with Filipinos working away from home and their families. There were professionals working
in the IT industry and the Library and Information Science sector. I met teachers and professors,
domestic helpers and labourers. I was even mistaken for a household help by the immigration staff
when my host from the National Book Development Board of Singapore bade me a tearful farewell
at the airport. The immigration staff asked if she was my boss and I, her domestic helper. I said no,
she is my friend. The immigration staff gave me a warm knowing smile. I told her the truth, of course,
but I knew she had a different context to my answer.
In the airplane, the economy class was filled with Filipino men and women all noisy and eager to get
home. They all carried bags and boxes of pasalubongs.* Many spoke in Tagalog but there were a
few chattering in Bisaya and Ilocano. While many of the passengers slept and some quietly talked to
each other, I wrote a poem in my notebook about a child missing her OFW mother. A week in
Singapore had made me homesick. I missed my husband and two kids terribly and wished they
could have joined me on the trip. It was that moment I recalled my own childhood growing up during
the last stretch of the Martial Law years. I remembered my father and grandfather, my mother and
Nanay Leony and what they had all sacrificed. I was in awe of the courage of the Filipino overseas
worker, but saddened by the reality that one of the many reasons why they leave home is due to the
economic and cultural problems caused by twenty years of dictatorship.
Dear Nanay is illustrated by the amazing Liza Flores. Using paper cutouts as her medium, she
added visual layers to the story by depicting spreads that show gaps and distance, longing and
loneliness, through empty rooms, calendars and time pieces. I did not reveal nor mention Nanay’s
profession in the narrative verse, but I particularly liked Liza’s take on her as a chef. Not all OFWs
are domestic helpers. Nonetheless, our book shows the reality children face in light of a parent
leaving home to work abroad.
I still grapple with the question of what is more important for a parent to do: to provide for his or her
children’s needs by working abroad or to stay with the family and endure the economic and political
hardships, as well as the social injustices of living in a developing country like the Philippines. I
console myself with the thought that, despite this reality, there are still opportunities for Filipino
writers and illustrators to tell stories and that there are people in the Philippine book industry brave
enough to create and publish stories for children depicting the plight of the Overseas Filipino
Worker.
Glossary
Click on the word to return to the text
atis – sweet sop, custard apple

biko – rice cake
camias – tree cucumber
ginataan – food cooked with coconut milk, like porridge or sweetened stew of tropical fruits, sticky
rice and gluten
kamote – sweet potato
nanay – mother
pasalubong – homecoming treat
santol – wild mangosteen
sari-sari store – convenience store
turon – banana fritter

Dear Nanay

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Dear Nanay:

How this Story of a Little Girl

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atis – sweet sop, custard apple

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