LAST week, in Gratitude’s Next Chapter: Our Everyday Silent Heroes-Part I, I reflected on pharmacists and health professionals who guide us in keeping our families well. This week, I want to turn our gratitude toward another group of quiet, steadfast heroes: those who care for our homes and families behind the scenes: our yayás, helpers, drivers, guards, and staff who make daily life possible.
Until I was 8 years old, I happily grew up with my family living with my paternal grandparents. My nanny, Manang Eyang, woke me up every morning, but she allowed me to sleep in a little longer by putting on my socks and part of my uniform-that is, until she was scolded for doing so. After my morning pre-school class in Chiang Kai Shek, she would be waiting eagerly to ask if I got a star that day. If I did, she would buy me my favorite pink ‘sago’ [boba] drink from the street vendor, or my red Chippy snack. Then we would ride a jeepney going home. There was a time we were feeling adventurous, and she actually convinced the driver of the ‘kalesa’ (horse carriage) to bring us all the way to D. Tuazon, way beyond his downtown Manila route. Then, there was another time when I was already studying in St. Jude, and I really wanted Chippy, tehn she said her money was just enough for our commute. But she challenged me and if I was willing to walk so we can use the money to buy my Chippy. Wow, up to today, I cannot imagine walking from Mendiola to Legarda, then reaching España, so we would only have one ride left, with me sitting on her lap, to get home.
In my childhood times of fear and pain, Manang Eyang would be the first person to know. Whether it was me losing grip of a balloon I got from school, or when I stepped on an exposed three-inch nail, or when I got teased at school for being ‘negro’ because I was darker than my classmates, she was that person who would be the first to show me I was stronger than that, and I just needed to fight back. Her famous line was ‘Malayo pa yan sa bituka!’ (That’s so far from your intestines.) With her firm support and ’embrace,’ I could stand up from my bloody foot, asked for a bandage, and was riding my tricycle in a few minutes. With her example of fierceness, never standing down to anyone despite being barely 5 feet, I would show my fist to the boys who teased me and gained courage to even challenge the biggest boy in our class to arm wrestle (which I won).
Outside of my Grand Aunt and my Grandfather, Manang Eyang was my strength growing up. She showed me how important family was. She would share stories of her love for her youngest brother, Bernard, as well as how she needed to earn money to build her parents a house someday. And later on, she would be so proud of having supported her nephews and nieces all the way until they became teachers and a lawyer.
These thoughts helped me cope every time I dreaded her leaving me when she needed to go back to her home town of San Quintin. I would hide, fearing I would cry in front of her, so I would sit at the step of our stairs, just enough to see her walking out our front gate. I would cry after she left, comforting myself for the Indian mango she would bring back when she returned. Manang Eyang showed me early on that people, even those not your own blood, can love you like family.
This is why when I became a mother, I carried the mindset that my community can help me raise my children.that parenting did not mean everything myself. I have been blessed to have great people around our family, helping my husband and I ‘hold our days together.’ One of them is my son’s yaya who has been with us from the day he was born. I remember when my son just turned 1, our company changed so much that I had to be up at 4:30 am for work, then bring my daughter to school, go to work, and then I would come home at already past 7 every night. My son would be fast asleep. I would have conversations with her after I tutored my daughter. I would ask how my son’s day was, what she had difficulty handling. Then I would research about the issues and share my learnings with her after. Every first of each month, I would endorse to her play crates labeled for each day of the week with easy index card instructions. We loved discussing my son’s milestones together.
We often talk about excellence at work, but there is a quiet kind of excellence that shows up every single day-the helper who wakes up before everyone else, the driver who endures traffic to ensure the kids arrive safely, the security guard who greets you with a smile when you get home late. These are acts of care that rarely make it to our gratitude lists, yet they sustain us more than we realize.
Our children watch how we treat these people. Gratitude is taught not only through words but through tone, gestures and consistency. Since my children were young, we would visit Manang Eyang’s resting place in San Quintin. Along the way, my husband and I would share stories about her. When we get there, we would chat with Manang’s relatives. When Meagan was in senior high, she did a collaborative project with one of Manang’s nieces, who is a high school teacher now.