Karlo’s entry: #2 Slice

Karlo’s entry
#2 Slice
19 April 2005


Standing in a bus was not my kind of idea of reaching a destination I barely know. My uncomfortable stance, together with wide-open stares (I avoided blinking so that I won’t miss the spot where I should drop off) seemed to lessen the enthusiasm I charged for this day back home. And to think of it, I was way far from accomplishing the agendum set for me: interview an OFW fresh from the land of camels and shawarma.

I arrived at IIEE (Institute of Integrated Electrical Engineers of the Philippines)—the destination I barely know—10 minutes earlier than our official meeting time. I informed Sir Villy, my mentor, that I’m already outside his workplace through a text message. After a couple of minutes, the glass door of the building looming loftily at me swung open and there he was, wearing his polo-maong pants-rubber shoes combo, just like the first time we met—during my interview. He led the way inside and offered me a seat. He pulled a chair, sat beside me and we started discussing OJT-related matters. He made me construct a story plan so that later on, when we get to meet my subject for my interview, I’d be ready as a soldier at war. With that, he left me with newspapers for my company and said, “Just text me when you’re done. I’ll just finish something in the computer.”

After an hour—a normal time to complete a story plan for a journalism student who is having a hard time making a straight lead—I texted Sir Villy, telling him that I finally got some sane ideas for my story. He went back, glanced at the scribbles on my paper then asked me to ready myself. We would be leaving in about 30 minutes.

It was drizzling when we left IIEE.

“Is it okay for you to catch colds?” Sir Villy joked.

We headed for shelter as we waited for a ride to España (we would meet my subject in Goldilocks’ in front of UST). Moments later, an FX passed by and Sir Villy hailed it at once. And off we went to another rendezvous. (Oh, before I forget, thanks, sir for the free 15-peso ride.)

When we arrived at Goldilocks’, Sir Villy ordered something to palliate our grumbling stomachs. Palabok and drinks—not bad; not bad at all. After some time, a thin, jolly man wearing a muscle shirt and a black cap approached our table and extended his arm, first to my mentor, then to me. His name is Jowel Marquez, a journalism graduate from PUP who works as a secretary in an agency in Saudi. Soon, a big part of his life would unfold before me.

“Hello! So, what would you like to find out?” he said smiling.

Sir Villy stood and proceeded to the nearest counter. When he came back, he served Sir Jowel halo-halo for his snacks. After eating, the interview began. I equipped myself with my handy-dandy recorder, pen and notebook, then started throwing questions at him. I discovered a lot of things about his life as an OFW, from applying and taking tests to working in a foreign land, with all the adjustments attached. The plot of Sir Jowel’s OFW life was quite typical: he went abroad because there is a dearth of jobs here; he worked to improve his and his family’s life financially; he experienced homesickness; he remitted money to his parents and siblings in the province; and the list goes on. My hearty interview with him lasted for about an hour. After that, the three of us went out of the place, said our goodbyes and thank yous, then parted ways.

When I got home, I treated myself with a VCD. And I tell you, the movie I watched sucked. Standing in a bus, scouring the surroundings out the window for a destination I barely know was better.