THE PUSHBROOM

The following essay is my introduction to a book I wrote "Al Walis". The manuscript was not accepted by Anvil Publishing since it does not fit any of their "publishing lines".

The illustration is the magazine cover of the anniversary issue of the newsletter, which was also titled "Al Walis".


PREFACE

This book is an account of my life as a Filipino contract worker in Saudi Arabia for more than four years. Whereas before we were called OCW or overseas contract workers, now the term is OFW or overseas Filipino workers. However, since I was given an assignment as a project manager and considered an officer in management, my contracted four-year period was not continuously spent at work in the Middle East. Every six months I enjoyed one month OIL or “officer incentive leave” in the Philippines. Other expatriate workers enjoy paid leaves only after completing the entire two years of their contracts in Saudi Arabia.

This book is divided into two parts.

The first part is devoted to presenting an almost chronological account of my life as a contract worker at the management level of a project working in and with a group of compatriots. My perception of the events during my stint in the Middle East is obviously very different from the life of a Filipino contract worker working alone in a strange culture. This is especially true for those contracted to serve as a domestic in Arab households. At the time of this story in 1981, slavery was recently abolished in the Kingdom and any DH or domestic helper (mostly women) in all households was treated as if she was a slave. I have seen several runaways – victims of violence -- who had sought refuge in the Philippine embassy, converting most of the staid diplomatic office spaces into a squatter area where they had to live in makeshift cells pending repatriation.

Even so, life of the other expatriates working in the Kingdom was still difficult in many ways. The whites – Americans or British – although accorded polite treatment and have better living conditions in the Kingdom, lived in constant fear of the Saudi police and the speedy imposition of severe shariah justice even for simple traffic violations. Even though these whites could imbibe liquor and avail of pork lean meat on the sly, the transition from crime to punishment is too swift under Islamic laws to be of comfort to Westerners who are used to the legal maneuverings of court lawyers. There were large batches of South Koreans who worked in constructing various heavy industry projects. They lived in barracks-like camps far from the urban areas. I did not have any occasion to observe their lives but learned of a few beheadings for the crime of rape. There are no prolonged trials in these cases. It is sufficient for a woman to charge rape in order for the shariah court to pronounce the sentence of death and its immediate implementation. And unlike homicide cases, blood money cannot alter the death sentences in rape cases.

In my case, although I was a victim of a criminal assault, I did not have to appear in any court to confront my attacker. He was convicted and punished on the basis of police reports. No lawyer was involved even in my case.

Reading this book does not give a distinct impression that it is a phase in the spiritual journey in my life after retiring from the military service. A third of my thirty years in the military profession was spent in managing and handling small groups of men trained to obey orders without question. The last two thirds were spent in purely staff work – analyzing issues and writing position papers on policies connected with governance. I am now sure that my previous military life gave me the discipline and outlook needed to face a strange culture and the desert environment very different from tropical Philippines. The spiritual element in my psychological progression may be discerned from the essays in the second part of this book.

Initially I had wanted to publish only this second part, which is a collection of the short essays I wrote for my project’s weekly newsletters. These essays, except two published on Christmas and on the anniversary of the project, are really very short and would not take five minutes to read. I have titled them “Sisyphus the Ant” under a regular column as “perplexities of a project manager.” However, their subject matters may strike the reader as unrelated topics. There are commentaries on articles or books, or short reviews of movies I have seen on videotapes. A few of the pieces were musings about fate and destiny; about human purpose and the meaning of life; and about human weaknesses. I have not sorted the essays according to topics or significance; they are compiled in chronological order. Thus, the sequence may give the discerning reader my frame of mind during certain moments of life in the desert.

Some of my essays were contrived parables or fables. They assume meaning, to my mind, if the reader can relate them to the atmosphere or ambience affecting me in writing the pieces. Especially for the parables or fables, they are my efforts to get back at Saudi management and American supervisors for perceived undue harassment or labor injustices committed against my workers and my project. In one parable, I named the Royal Commission as Archie and my project as Ophie for Oshco-Pae Philsinports. In another parable I decried the lack of sympathy of my own company in not giving any deserved increases in the salaries of my workers which I allegorized as “rain.”

The work my group of Filipinos undertook in the Kingdom may be considered degrading – the collection and disposal of all types of wastes. The Saudis who were included in our payroll refused even to operate the motorized road sweepers; in their recent past the work of cleaning anything used to be done by slaves. In the scheme of things global, expatriated Filipinos seem fated to be the menial servants of the world – whether in the streets, in the hospitals, or in private homes. My Saudi Arabian episode conditioned me not to look down and be condescending on the social status and survival efforts of our own underpaid garbage collectors and street sweepers in Metro Manila.

The work of the second group – a mix of Filipinos and Sinhalese – was about maintenance and repair of roads, fabrication and installation of street signs, and the operation of computerized traffic signals. This phase in my overseas contracts educated me on the proper aspects of road repairs, and traffic management. However, upon my return no opportunity was fortunately offered to transfer and apply the appropriate technology to the Philippines.

As well, I realized that working in the Middle East does not add to the socio-economic improvement of our country. Although I have not elaborated on the term, I had coined the word “slabor” to apply to the OCW, and considered our government to be continuously engaged in “slabory” through the export of Filipino labor. Ducky Paredes, a columnist in Malaya newspaper, reflected on the economic aspect of this issue of overseas workers. He said: “The way I look at it, we ought not even to count on these OFW contributions [dollar remittances]. In truth, what the OFW contributes to the Philippines is a very small part of the wage that he receives. Most of what he earns is still spent in his host country. In addition, the contributions that the OFW makes to the GDP of his host country is of greater value than the smaller remittance that he sends home to his family and which the country makes such a large part of our economic planning.

“The OFW helps his host country’s economy much. Much more than he helps the Philippine economy… The fact that we have so many Filipinos working abroad is not anything to crow about nor should it be a measure of the country’s success. It is, if anything, a measure of how this country has failed to attract investments. What the country ought to be doing is growing from within.”

Mr. Paredes feels that “any way that we look at it, we would be better off having all of these OFW’s working within the country. When Filipinos must go abroad to be able to find a job, there is something very wrong with this country.”

On the other hand, sociologist Randy David cogently observed that “[s]ince the mid-70s. Filipinos have begun to travel to parts of the world they had not known before. Today, more than 8 million Filipino workers live in 192 countries. They remit to their country not only money but also new beliefs. Their exposure to a variety of cultures and societies shapes, among other things, their understanding of politics and their expectations of government and citizenship. Coming home after finishing their contracts, they can hardly be expected to think of their country in the old way. They have seen how governments in modern societies work, and how citizens assert their rights and demand responsibility of one another, and wonder why Filipinos must be content to live with corruption and incompetence at home.”

From hindsight the spiritual aspect of this phase in my life involved being taken out of the Christian belief system I grew up in and exposed to another monotheistic ethos that required adjusting to. When one sets foot on Saudi Arabia, he must be emptied of any semblance of his non-Islamic religion – no Holy Bible, and no religious icons or even necklaces with cross pendants. One is not allowed to practice any religion but Islam in the country. Although having one religious source traced from Abraham and Moses, Judaism, Christianity and Islam have been constantly at variance in their interpretations and practices of how to worship God. The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is considered the Guardian of Islam, having two holy cities venerated by Muslims all over the world. Pilgrims hold the annual Hajj to worship Al-lah in the Qaaba in Mecca, and visit the tomb of Prophet Mohammed in the city of Medina. Both cities are off-limits to non-Muslims.

As I mentioned earlier, this book is an account of a phase in the spiritual journey I am still undertaking. Although I tried to manage a project of more than a hundred Filipinos with fairness and justice, I also had to contend with dealing with other nationalities having different sets of religious beliefs. In my second contract in Saudi Arabia I had several Muslims, Protestant Christians, and mostly Buddhist and Sinhalese workers under me. My Irish traffic manager is a Catholic.

There was one instance when I was questioned by zealous young Saudis why I have a copy of the Quran. They learned I had one when I had quoted some passages from their holy book to rebuke them for some misbehavior. They could not tolerate an infidel handling, possibly with irreverence, their holy book. Although they honor Issah (Jesus) as a healing prophet and the Masih (Messiah) they do not take him as the Son of God. I had to make them aware that I, too, belong to the protected People of the Book mentioned in the Quran and capable of revering their scripture. And that I am duty bound to worship the same God they worship. I had to point out to them to their religion’s credit that the Quran has one entire book or surah XIX Maryam devoted to Virgin Mary while the New Testament is practically silent about her.

Writing this book has enabled me to retrospectively view my spiritual development. I may not be devout in observing the rites of my religion, but I do try to practice agape or love and give justice to all men regardless of their faiths. I bore no malice toward the Saudi Arab who had tried to kill me for my callous exercise of duty as a manager. Somehow I saw in him an aspect of my humanity that needed to be transcended or transmuted to a more forgiving and understanding attitude towards the human condition. In my daily life, I constantly strive intensely to see and sense God’s Actions and Handiwork in all of Creation. 