Nellie with Tanya
We call 15 year-old Nellie a nickname, but I don’t know how to spell it here…it’s something like Miyog. Nellie’s actually an extended family member; Lola’s grandniece. She just moved in last year to help around the house in exchange for private school tuition. Around the Philippines, if you don’t attend a private school, you’ll have a hard time getting into college; public school education is pretty much worthless. So, in exchange for tuition she cooks a lot of the meals, sets and cleans off the table, helps out Lola when she needs it, does a lot of the laundry, and accompanies Mart, the youngest son, to school. Though she’s treated well for the most part, there’s a sense that she’s sort of second class. On her birthday, for example, she barely got a nod from the family. But if Adam or I had a birthday, it would be a huge deal. Because of this, I didn’t tell them it was my birthday—I wouldn’t feel comfortable getting that kind of attention while Nellie didn’t, and I also was concerned that they’d butcher some large animal for me—maybe the dog?—and I didn’t want to have to eat it.
Nellie’s definitely a teenager. She’s a bit sassy and a little rude sometimes—she’ll speak to me totally in Ifugao even though she speaks English and she knows I hardly speak Tagalog. She says things to Adam like: “You have to pay if you’re going to look at me, so you’d better look away.” But she’s quick to laugh at herself too. I finally got a chance to speak with Nellie the other day. No one was around and I ended up alone with her in the kitchen where she was preparing chicken adobe—a popular Filipino dish—for dinner.
We got around to the subject of school. She told me she was in her third year, and I asked her if she wanted to go to college.
“Yes,” she said.
“Which one?”
She smiled shyly. “It depends on what my parents want for me, but I’d like to study nursing.”
This is a pretty common desire among young Filipinas—it’s also a marketable degree that they can use abroad.
I found out her family lived nearby, which surprised me since she lived at Lola’s house. “Do you miss them?” I asked.
“Yes, very much.” She smiled again, as she stirred the chicken adobe—a popular Filipino dish. She learned to cook by watching Auntie Lourdes and made a lot of the dinners on her own.
“Do you get to see them often?” I asked.
“No, I can’t…I am so busy here.”
“How often do you see your mom?”
“Hmm…about twice a month, if I’m lucky.”
Nellie comes from a family of seven children. This was the only way her family could afford a good education for her. It hurts me, for some reason, to see her not treated well—I doubt she got presents for her birthday. But I have to remember that the opportunity to work in exchange for school is quite a blessing for her. While it may be painful to live far from her family, it’s a chance for her to get a college degree that she might not have otherwise. I tend to project this Cinderella image onto her, but it’s important for me to remember the whole picture. That said—I’m still going to get her a little treat for her birthday.
We call 15 year-old Nellie a nickname, but I don’t know how to spell it here…it’s something like Miyog. Nellie’s actually an extended family member; Lola’s grandniece. She just moved in last year to help around the house in exchange for private school tuition. Around the Philippines, if you don’t attend a private school, you’ll have a hard time getting into college; public school education is pretty much worthless. So, in exchange for tuition she cooks a lot of the meals, sets and cleans off the table, helps out Lola when she needs it, does a lot of the laundry, and accompanies Mart, the youngest son, to school. Though she’s treated well for the most part, there’s a sense that she’s sort of second class. On her birthday, for example, she barely got a nod from the family. But if Adam or I had a birthday, it would be a huge deal. Because of this, I didn’t tell them it was my birthday—I wouldn’t feel comfortable getting that kind of attention while Nellie didn’t, and I also was concerned that they’d butcher some large animal for me—maybe the dog?—and I didn’t want to have to eat it.
Nellie’s definitely a teenager. She’s a bit sassy and a little rude sometimes—she’ll speak to me totally in Ifugao even though she speaks English and she knows I hardly speak Tagalog. She says things to Adam like: “You have to pay if you’re going to look at me, so you’d better look away.” But she’s quick to laugh at herself too. I finally got a chance to speak with Nellie the other day. No one was around and I ended up alone with her in the kitchen where she was preparing chicken adobe—a popular Filipino dish—for dinner.
We got around to the subject of school. She told me she was in her third year, and I asked her if she wanted to go to college.
“Yes,” she said.
“Which one?”
She smiled shyly. “It depends on what my parents want for me, but I’d like to study nursing.”
This is a pretty common desire among young Filipinas—it’s also a marketable degree that they can use abroad.
I found out her family lived nearby, which surprised me since she lived at Lola’s house. “Do you miss them?” I asked.
“Yes, very much.” She smiled again, as she stirred the chicken adobe—a popular Filipino dish. She learned to cook by watching Auntie Lourdes and made a lot of the dinners on her own.
“Do you get to see them often?” I asked.
“No, I can’t…I am so busy here.”
“How often do you see your mom?”
“Hmm…about twice a month, if I’m lucky.”
Nellie comes from a family of seven children. This was the only way her family could afford a good education for her. It hurts me, for some reason, to see her not treated well—I doubt she got presents for her birthday. But I have to remember that the opportunity to work in exchange for school is quite a blessing for her. While it may be painful to live far from her family, it’s a chance for her to get a college degree that she might not have otherwise. I tend to project this Cinderella image onto her, but it’s important for me to remember the whole picture. That said—I’m still going to get her a little treat for her birthday.
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