THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MIRROR

In the course of my visits to the Embassy between the late '60's and early 70’s, I came to observe closely the flagrant modus operandi on how the consular staff rely on their personal whims and caprices prevailing at the moment in treating their own nationals in a very obvious selective manner. They classified them according to their social status, nature of their occupation, the level of their education or most especially by the degree of their affinity and relationship before they set up their priorities on whose applications would be processed and expedited first. Unfortunately, I have had my share of misfortune not only once but on a number of occasions after I went through such a nasty experience when I requested for an ordinary document that could have been processed on the spot the same day but only to be told off to return not once but twice because the front desk staff could not be disturbed in the middle of their intimate conversation regarding their own personal business or the officer authorized to sign was in a foul mood for having been stood up by her lover that she did not sleep well the night before. How I deplored so much such kind of gratuitous perverse and immoral practice of keeping the people to wait and then telling them off to come back for as many times as they wished without any consideration to the inconvenience that could eventually cause them by their indifference. There was no other alternative I could do but to wait and be patient for they could still be much nastier the second time around. Worse yet, I could never forget the way they looked down on me with obvious arrogance and derision as if I were an ordinary domestic worker they completely ignored me when a group of students arrived shortly after me for a courtesy call. When I wrote my observations and complaints to the Ambassador, I was only too surprised to get his personal reply where he explained about the framework and the specific functions of the different departments in the Embassy. Although I got a slightly better treatment thereafter, I just made my presence less and less ubiquitous and my visits very rare as much as possible.

I was so shocked and scandalized to learn officially that I would never get back a single cent from the taxes I've already paid for from all the previous annual income tax declarations that I filed with the hope of spending a golden retirement in my hometown someday. Instead, what I only got was a resounding and direct but cold reply that "it's an irony of life." Hearing such a rather insensitive and brutal remark from a senior consular officer, I seemed to have been struck by lightning that I felt utterly cheated and betrayed. Henceforth, I decided to keep my distance as much as possible and vowed to myself that I’d break away completely from any possible dealings with the Embassy from the day when I would finally obtain my naturalization. When I reflect on the miserable pension money which could hardly cover up decently the daily subsistence that my mother received for having sacrificed almost all her entire life working as a public elementary teacher, I could consider myself more fortunate and better off to be able to live comfortably on what I'm now getting as a pre-retiree from the local government. There was a particular incident that a stranded fellow national shared with me when he was refused entry to England and had to go to the Embassy to seek for advice and moral support but only to be told off with indifference by the consul general to just pack up and go home directly, being the standard official procedure to avoid any possible diplomatic incident with the local authorities.

When I flew to Europe in the fall of 1967 as a scholar, I wasn't only too happy to have finally fulfilled my most-cherished dream of going abroad but also too pleased and honored to come over at the expense of the French Government. Many a time, I had to pinch myself in order to prove that I wasn't dreaming awake. If it could have been a fairytale, I thought I could be Alice who got lost her sense of direction in a wonderland and practically went out of her mind visiting and admiring all the places that I read in the book. Unfortunately, I later discovered during my frequent trips that being an ordinary passport holder could prove to be more of a liability and a burden than an asset to one’s personal pride when traveling around Europe from the series of not-so-pleasant incidents and misadventures that I experienced, such as the untoward treatment in the course of a seemingly third-degree interrogation performed by the consular staff of foreign embassies in obtaining entry or transit visas which could prove to be very discouraging and humiliating or the unorthodox practice of random search and scrutiny by some unscrupulously rude customs and border control agents on ones body and belongings to be somewhat abjectly brutal if not traumatic that could eventually lead a highly sensitive person to the brink of a serious nervous breakdown or worse yet to disappear completely from the face of the earth for having been practically defiled and dishonored. Being in such a predicament of vulnerability and desperation, how I'd wished so badly that I would have had a passport from a powerful and rich country so that I could make a rebuttal and defend my honor as an decent and honest human being rather than always play the role of the usual docile victim or an underdog who would just remain to be insulted and oppressed worse than a presumed criminal and be subjected to certain forms of prejudice and discrimination. When I finally realized that I already have had more than my dose of all kinds of harassment and misadventure because I am from a Third World country, I decided to change immediately my nationality at all cost so that I could redeem and give myself a certain sense of self-esteem and pride, thus to be able to regain my self-respect and confidence in the long run. I am so glad my children were automatically entitled to my new citizenship that they were spared from going through what I had experienced. Somehow, I firmly believe that this could have had a substantial influence as an important factor which contributed much to their personal development in a more constructive and positive way while they were growing up.

Finally, it's too pathetic and sad to learn about the growing notoriety from the not-so-flattering image and reputation acquired by Filipinos abroad as economic refugees resulting from their continued massive exodus to look for work since the latter half of the 70's. In Italy, they constitute the largest foreign population where the word "Filipino" has been ostensibly incorporated in the local vocabulary and thereby widely used in the spoken language simply to refer to anybody in general who "is or works as a domestic," regardless of race, creed or country of origin.