Excerpt from Sandok: A Filipino-Canadian Oral History Cookbook

The following is an excerpt from ANAK Publishing’s latest oral history publication, Sandok: A Filipino-Canadian Oral History Cookbook. The book features the personal narratives of five Winnipeg restauranteurs and their connection to Filipino-Canadian culture and cuisine. This book is written and researched by Ma. Monica de Castro and Kezia Malabanan-Abueg. 

Visit anakbooks.ca for your copy!

Relevance of learning and understanding the history of Filipino cuisine

What is Filipino food? In developing this book, we realize that there is no real answer to this question. Instead, we have come to learn that Filipino food encompasses differing experiences in Winnipeg. One informant, Victoria David, sums up the Filipino food experience this way:

The [Filipino] food that’s being served needs to be explained. For example, when you first introduce a dish to someone, you have to explain the kind of food it is and the ingredients it needs… You have to know your food… That’s important.

In the process of explaining, one will inherently reflect on the broader culture, values, and history the dish evolved from. We have learned that food culture may be a readily distinguished portal to understanding a particular ethnocultural group. Moreover, an explanation gives guests permission to customize the dish to their liking.

The Filipino concept of sawsawan (dipping sauce) is not just a dipping sauce. When we think about sawsawan, we associate it with patis, bagoong, toyo (soy sauce), and suka (vinegar). A chef inviting his diners to add sawsawan to his/her meal is an act of involving them in the process of food preparation. This cultural act differs from other cultures wherein adding seasoning or condiments to dishes is deemed insulting. However, for Filipinos, it is a sign of a communal relationship that is ubiquitous to general Filipino culture. It shows tolerance for differing opinions whether it agrees or disagrees with the chef. It shows how individuals pick and choose what he/she likes (and does not like). It shows how personal preferences can still work in creating something harmoniously amazing.

In relation to Nakpil’s quote at the beginning of this chapter, Filipinos remain a Filipino (at least) gastronomically, but Filipino food culture is something beyond that. As long as preparation, cooking, and dining practices are observed, and as long as values are continually reflected upon (consciously or unconsciously) when explaining Filipino food to youngsters and non-Filipinos, then being Filipino is more than just a gastronomical attachment. Food culture is a convenient way to reflect on one’s own “Filipino-ness.”

As Filipino-Canadians ourselves, there is value on the communality that we express whenever we sit down to share and eat our food. There is value in the meanings we infer and confer on the food we set on our tables. There is value on the cultural factors that shape our cuisine. And now that many of us are “Global Filipinos,” there is value on how we can constantly (de-/re-) construct our identities and make sense of the world based not only by the food we put into our mouths, but also its process and meaning.

Tito Jim and Tita Imelda (Jimel’s)

Tita Lourdes (Pampanga)                         Lola Linda (Gelyn’s)

Tito Julio (Myrna’s)

Monica with Tita Vivian (Juvian’s)

Inspiring Filipino-Canadian Oral History: Rap me a story

Hip hop is said to be an amalgamation of many artistic forms. Its roots lie within a subculture of celebrated marginalism in New York’s South Bronx and Harlem in the 1970s. It has since grown to an amazing network of barrios, barangays, and bantustans the world over. Hip hop is universal with or without a colour to whatever beat.

In Canada, it is no surprise then that Hip Hop would take root among today’s Filipino-Canadian communities to create a narrative and a sound all its own. The uniqueness of immigration, separation, regionalism, cultural confusion and economic struggle from the Filipino perspective is an honest and edgy offering of oral history neither a museum nor academic can portray.

In this blog post, I will introduce two Filipino-Canadian artists who employ hip hop as their medium: Han Han of Toronto and Nereo II of Winnipeg. Both offer much inspiration to our emerging generation.

Research from the Filipino Youth Transitions in Canada project from 2010-2014 reveals that Toronto and Winnipeg are two very different places when it comes to the makeup of Filipino-Canadian communities. Toronto has the larger Filipino-Canadian population in Canada. However, they are spread out throughout the vast Greater Toronto Area in separate community fiefdoms divided by socio-economic status and geography. In Winnipeg, the community is concentrated primarily  in the North West corner where cultural connections appear more congruent and accessible.

Toronto’s population stems from the growth of the Live-in Caregiver Program and the numbers of Filipina domestic workers who came to Canada through this initiative. Winnipeg’s Filipino-Canadian community is rooted in early immigration from the 1960s and beyond as medical professionals, garment workers, family sponsors, and Manitoba Provincial Nominee Program applicants. The study concludes that Winnipeg’s sense of pride in its Filipino-Community creates successful young people who will move beyond their parents’ own educational attainment and into higher level careers.

So, what does this study have to do with hip hop?

I would like to argue that the fabric of each city creates a differing narrative for each community. Dare I say, a differing sound as well.

Han Han is an immigrant nurse who uses her flawless Tagalog, English, and Cebuano to tell a tale of struggle towards a new life and a new identity and a renewed maturity of self-identity again. Her song, World Gong Crazy featuring Datu, is a fusion of funk and hip hop with the Philippine tribal kulintaw (a rhythm Winnipeg is likely to hear only at Folklorama time). There is a sounding desire to remain fused to the West, but authentic to the Southeast. I sense the separation but the community of the rhythms. I find this symbolic of her inflection and reflection from both the Filipino and Canadian worlds in her immigrant struggle.

Nereo II is an artist that inspires selfless self-expression. His TEDxYouth talk underlines his own personal revelation to be true to his talents as an artist. Although his talk is not overtly about being Filipino-Canadian, I can sense themes from his upbringing as a second-generation Canadian. His retrospective as a rebellious young man and his burning wish to depart from conforming, building wealth, and working in a secure, but unfulfilling career is a testament to our parents’ generation as pioneering immigrants. This rebellion would be incomprehensible to them because being accepted as Canadians with a financially secure position in society was perhaps but a dream to them as they arrived. The narrative is as Filipino as it is Canadian. This is how immersed both realities are with one another.

How else do you express such complex transitions between past generations to the next generation?

The answer I have to say is the relevance of the messenger and his/her interaction with the medium. Today, our messengers make sense of hip hop to relay a message we need to understand.

Sources:

Robert Bolton. “Filipina-Canadian Nurse Raps Her Immigrant Experience” Huffington Post Music The Blog. 9/3/2014 http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/robert-bolton/filipina-rap_b_5756090.html (cited 6/9/2014)

Filipino Youth Transitions in Canada Project http://ycar.apps01.yorku.ca/research/programmes-projects/filipino-youth-transitions-in-canada/

TEDxYouth Fort Garry <http://www.ted.com/tedx/events/5719> (cited 9/6/2014)

Revisit M2M before it closes this week!

A preview of M2M Revisited at the United Way Building (580 Main Street)

Stories from the ethnic food aisle

When white bread just isn’t white bread – it’s Pinoy Tasty!

I’m not really a cook, but I’ve been known to dabble. Like any novice Filipino-Canadian cook trying to satisfy a craving for home cooking, I know my staples. I can cook rice (measured the Filipino way with the finger and not with a measuring cup). I can cook sinigang, adobo, kare-kare, and various forms of nilaga. In the morning, I know my silogs and my tsamporado. Whether it’s anything tasty or authentic I leave that for you to judge. All my life, shopping at the ethnic food aisle and the ethnic food store has been a regular part of my weekends since childhood. It’s dawning on me now how rich these places are for an oral history intervention.

Two of the artifacts coming out of Pananaw were groupings of Filipino candy (Choc nut, Cloud 9, and Maxx) and Filipino snacks (Boy Bawang, Chippy). While the former include the rich, chalky chocolate taste and sweetness of lemon drops, the latter explore all the goodness garlicky, salt and MSG can offer. In the oral history exercise, the group to receive the Filipino candy artifacts described their connection with the candy as part of their childhood memories. The student, a very recent arrival to Canada, explained how her grandparents used to “bribe” her with them. She told the story with a smile and we listened equally with the same grin. The Filipino snack group chose not to personalize their artifacts and instead described them in general terms. They noted the ingredients and that the artifact was manufactured in the Philippines. Perhaps, as 1.5 generation Filipino-Canadians, this group’s childhood memories of the Philippines were too distant to recall. It could have been merely a Filpino-Canadian snack to them and that was all they had to relate to. They perceived the snacks with the same ambivalence as any other passer-by in the store would. I guess the point worth making is that we connect to things in varying ways. I would like to argue that the ethnic food aisle is a rich place to understand how different these ways can be.

Over the years, working with immigrants and having hosted a few in my own home, I have become keenly aware of their discerning taste buds. Choosing the right ingredients, the most authentic ones, is what brings them back to what they know. I’ve learned this because I’ve substituted ingredients in my cooking to an array of comments, some good and some bad. Japanese Kikoman soy sauce instead of Pina Filipino soy sauce in adobo and apples instead of raisins in afritadacan raise a few Filipino eyebrows (Don’t even get me started on substituting white rice with brown rice!). There are certain things that Filipinos hold dear before they can consider themselves Filipino-Canadian, the taste of home is just one of them. Yet for my mom, a master cook and a queen in ingredient substitution, I have to say she always maintains the right taste. Everyone I know revels at her beef empanada, lomi pansit, nilugaw, to name a few. Despite the fact that over the years she’s added her touches (to reap the health benefits no less) of cinnamon, apple cider vinegar, and garlic, I swear her food is still deliciously Filipino.  The funny thing is she tells me she never learned to cook until she arrived in Canada over 30 years ago. So, her connection with the ethnic food aisle is something entirely Canadian (I dare say).

Next time you venture down the ethnic food aisle, stop and take in the reaction of its patrons. Do they get excited at the sight of an item? Do they marvel that some snack or ingredient is actually here in Winnipeg? Or, do they look through the aisle with suspicion? Maybe, they’re there searching in the aisle because of someone’s suggestion? Whatever they may be doing, think of it as a connection to a “thing” and their life beyond the kitchen table.

#Pananaw 2014: Oral History for the next generation

Yesterday, I had the privilege of being part of ANAK’s Pananaw 2014 Youth Forum. In conjunction with the United Way, the forum consisted of 17 high school students from Daniel McIntyre and Sisler High School. The participants ranged in grade level from 9 to 12, but all shared in a common heritage as Filipino-Canadians. 15 students were born in the Philippines with the vast majority of them arriving before the age of 13. 2 students were born in Canada. The forum was conducted in both Tagalog and English. The purpose of the workshop was for ANAK to gather direction for future programming and develop policy papers with this new generation in mind. The workshops included discussions in education, employment, immigration, politics (civic engagement), family, and oral history. I was excited to have the opportunity to introduce and (in a very, abbreviated way) train young people in oral history. This blog post will elaborate on this experience.

For the last few years, the Manila to Manitoba exhibit has gained new life as a published book (so far, one volume of five) and the revisited exhibit presently at the United Way building. It was exciting to bring this forward to the young people at yesterday’s forum. The workshop began with the questions: What is “oral history”? What is “history”? What is the difference? The students (as witty as they were) concluded that “oral history” is based on tradition and is passed on through stories. “History” they argued is formalized and written. So, I asked, what is the Manila to Manitoba Exhibit – oral history or history? It is based on interviews or the oral tradition, but it is written and formalized in a museum. Does this make the exhibit “oral history” or “history”? They were stumped.

I asked the students to ponder who exactly writes the history we learn. After extensive discussions on the community and (multicultural) education in earlier workshops, the students concluded that oral history was the best way to gather the history of Winnipeg’s Filipino-Canadians given that the community’s history is recent and “we” are the real scholars and subjects of the topic. This was the perfect introduction for them to understand why it is important to preserve our present history.

In pairs, I had the students interview each other based on a number of “Filipino-Canadian” artifacts they were to choose from. Not quite sure how to grasp the task, the students were then advised that they were writing for an audience in the future, 100 years from now. How would they describe Filipino-Canadians today? The artifacts included a Globe SIM card instruction booklet, Original Pilipino Music VHS Karaoke, papaya skin whitening soap, Filipino candies, Filipino snacks, a 35mm film camera, an airmail envelope, facebook/twitter/BBM icons, Pilipino Express news magazine, and Canada Olympic mittens.

What resulted from the interviews was a range of answers. Many took the literal route and took the time to describe the item in varying detail. I could feel my age show when I had to describe what a “VHS tape” was to students. I try to forget that this group of young people never owned a VHS or tape player in their lifetime.  Some students analyzed the items’ social context. The Papaya skin whitening soap for example was described as something Filipinos use because of an admiration for “white people.” On the other hand, one student described the Filipino candies on a personal level as something that sparks memories of their grandparents when they were growing up in the Philippines. To wrap up the workshop, I had each group present their “museum” to some guests from the “future”. It was a humorous way to see how their descriptions could be used or scrutinized by later generations.

All in all, my greatest joy came from hearing that the students that history is something they can “do”. They look forward to exploring their own personal histories more.  Yay!

Cigars, Poker, and 12,000 Manila Jews



President Quezon and US High Commissioner Paul V. McNutt light up (Source jweekly.com)

Today is Remembrance Day in Canada. It’s the last day of the long weekend. It’s also a day of somber commemoration. Each year, I hear comments from the media about the struggle to keep this day relevant to Canadians. Our world war veterans are now aging. Each year there are fewer veterans alive to share in their experiences. Violence also appears to be an integral part of our pop culture in the shows we watch and the sports we follow. Moreover, Canada has become increasingly culturally diverse that the wars of some do not necessarily reflect the past of others.

I wanted to write something that could connect Filipino-Canadians to this local holiday. I pondered to discuss the stories of oppression from Japanese Imperial forces, the bravery of local guerilla groups, or the presence of American soldiers in the Philippines. Instead, I came across an unexpected story from a humble Jewish refugee, Frank Ephraim. In this blog, I want to bring to light the less known story of Manila’s Jews during the Second World War.

Manila has been home to a small number of Jews since the late 15th century. It was then that Spanish Jews (marranos) escaped the Spanish Inquisition. By the 1800s, the community grew to include a number of French Jewish merchants. Later, it became home to Russian Jewish refugees fleeing the Great War (1914-1918). By the 1930s, there were approximately 500 Jews in Manila.

It was Manila’s early Jewish community (and most notably its influential business leaders) that brought the plight of European Jewish refugees to the attention of Philippine President Manuel Quezon. Quezon’s poker buddies happened to be among those influential business leaders. American Jews and wealthy cigar manufacturers Alex Freider and his brother encouraged their friend to open the Philippines’ borders to Europe’s Jews. News of kristallnacht and the frequent pogroms in Germany had urged them to take action.

Together with US High Commissioner Paul V. McNutt, Quezon worked to expedite visas to Jews fleeing Europe in the 1940s. Approximately 12,000 Jews from Europe arrived in Manila. Today, a monument stands in Tel Aviv, Israel to symbolize this wartime friendship between Filipinos and Jews.

The relationship between these two peoples is recorded from the perspective of one Manila Jew. Frank Ephraim fled Germany with his parents in 1939. He arrived in Manila as a young boy and his narratives can  be found in his book, Escape to Manila: From Nazi Tyranny to Japanese Terror. He notes how refugees knew little about this far away place called Manila and the thought of refuge there (unlike Canada, the UK, or the US) was uncertain. He notes the land and its people, the tropical heat as well as the poverty. He shares:

Our first impression of the Filipinos, a people of Malay descent with a rich heritage of many cultures, was their friendliness but also their poverty which was hard to comprehend in a land rich in resources. We found them to be hospitable yet caught up in an unyielding economic and political structure that favored a select group of landed families. All this was, however, beyond our immediate grasp on arrival (p.10). 

The Jewish refugees were paid when they found work – ‘a refugee salary’ which, while higher than the wretched wages paid to the average Filipino worker, was far less than what the established foreign, mostly white, employers were receiving. Yet the newcomers spoke little English and had not yet adapted to the local culture, so they were thankful for whatever they received (p.6).

These passages struck me. Although I appreciate this narrative was written by an elderly man reflecting upon his youth, I also gather a sense of empathy between the newcomers and locals. There was perhaps an intuitive need to place himself socially to where he belonged. Maybe he unwillingly sensed that he was above the average Filipino, but was altogether below the rich and wealthy foreigners. I don’t find an overwhelming sense of gratitude in these passages, but a continued sense of caution towards the inescapable presence of discrimination – Filipino or Jew. Fascinating.

I hope that this little tidbit in history can serve to remind us of how interconnected we are. Today is Remembrance Day and sadly we have yet to reach a time to know only peace and equality.

Sources:

Dan Pine. 4/4/13 “Poker pals in Philippines took gamble, saved 1,200 Jews” Resource jweekly.com (cited 11/11/13)

FilipiKnow. 2013. “Pinoy ‘Schindler’s List’: How President Quezon saved 1,200 Holocaust Jews.” filipiknow.net (cited 11/11/13) 

Frank Ephraim. Escape to Manila: From Nazi Tyranny to Japanese Terror. US: University of Illinois Press. 2003.

Philippine Embassy in Israel. 2010. “History of Jews in the Philippines”  philippine-embassy.org (cited 11/11/13)

Skin Deep

http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/bk9Xdfzcjs0&source=uds

An American take on Filipinos and Miss Universe

(Source Youtube.com)

As you read, think of this metaphor, “Beauty is only skin deep.” I think it’s an appropriate way to start because we’re going to talk about two things: beauty and skin. So far, we’ve examined the makings of the mestizo in the Philippines during Spanish colonial times (1521 to 1898). We’ve also explored ideas of privilege and race as it relates to immigration. Now, I feel it’s time to talk about these topics as it pertains to identity. Who shapes the identity and, subsequently, the confidence of second-generation Filipino-Canadians? Finally, how much of that confidence relates to ideas of beauty?

Looking back at the oral history interviews we collected for the Manila to Manitoba exhibit in 2010, the narratives of second-generation Filipino-Canadians are especially telling. This generation does not simply consider themselves Filipino because their parents are Filipino. Being Filipino to them is a matter of choice – they can choose to accept or deny this. For one informant, Marisolle, her bi-racial heritage as Filipino and Ethiopian urged her to “prove” she was more Filipino. She states:

“.. Are you East Indian? Are you black? Are you Spanish? I get everything, except Filipino; of course I don’t look anything like it. And I think, I kinda just want to show that you know, the only reason it was so important for me to prove that I am Filipino is because that’s what I know right? That’s my family.”(ANAK, 7 January 2010)

Her narrative urges us to assume two things: (1) she feels Filipino; and (2) she feels she doesn’t look Filipino. Her personal identity and confidence has been shaped by her tight knit Filipino family. Her bi-racial physical appearance however causes others to question what she believes. So, does this mean that the darker the skin the less Filipino one appears to be? Well, not so fast.

I must say that I can relate to Marisolle’s experience. Although both my parents are Filipino, I grew up taller, bigger, and fairer skinned than the majority of Filipino-Canadians I knew. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask if my father was either white or Chinese. “Nope,” I’d say. “My dad’s a very dark skinned Filipino.” So, it was a bit of a shock for me to discover that the hyphenates of my heritage extend beyond Filipino and Canadian, but also Spanish, Irish, Mexican, and Chinese. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if this distant past was anything to feel excited about. I always felt different. So, does this mean the taller, the bigger, and the fairer skinned appear less Filipino?

What is the Filipino “look” for those who have never been raised in the Philippines?

 I’m afraid there isn’t any easy answer.

If we were to take a look back at the time of our parents’ emigration to Canada from the Philippines in the late 1960s and 1970s, we would see a world only beginning to broaden racially. Canada’s immigration laws now ran under a “point system” that allowed immigrants from outside of Europe. “Multiculturalism,” was Canada’s new banner as colored workers and their families began to enter the country’s borders. Later, in the 1980s, multiculturalism grew some teeth to become a new movement called “anti-racism.”

In the Philippines, there was another experience developing. It was the time of Martial Law. President Marcos had taken control of all aspects of free speech. Everything was under government control from the morning paper to the late night curfews. It was a time of either simmering protest or growing apathy. Filipinos were living either angry or ambivalent. Many took to the local cinema to live out their frustrations. It was at this time a new Filipina heroine arrived. Her name is Nora Aunor – the Philippines’ own “Black Beauty.” Scholar Behn Cervantes describes her fame this way:

The ascendancy of Aunor, the dark and underprivileged Filipina, coincided with the rise of rabid nationalism during the late 1960s and early 1970s. Her struggle against the mestizas was emotionally supported by the anti-imperialist, pro-masa [pro-masses] sentiment brewed by activism. Furthermore, her story was cinematic in proportion, being a genuine Cinderella who rose from rags to riches. She was the Dark Pinay [Filipina] who toppled the White Tisay [Spanish- Filipino mestiza]! The Filipino audience was ripe for Nora Aunor. Domestic helpers, atsays [housemaids], cigarette vendors, store clerks, and everyone else who identified with the diminutive beauty realized that with the price of a movie ticket they could make a difference. They were heard and noticed through Nora. Her smooth brown complexion and dark brown eyes legitimized their own skin and eyes. They became fanatically loyal. (Lim, p.66)

Philippine society and pop culture were now being turned on its head. The status quo of the wealthy and fair skinned mestizo elite were being brought into question by the growing numbers of poor and morena (dark skinned). What ideas did our parents hold onto as they left the epicentre of this nationalist movement? Did these ideas stick around when they raised us?

I’m told that when people ask “what” I am it’s because they are driven by curiosity not malice. But, when we live our life trying to figure out exactly what being both Canadian and Filipino means, these kinds of questions set us back. To be made to feel that you don’t belong (even when your confidence begs you to believe what you feel is right) hurts. When you are set apart, beauty might be the last thing you think you resemble. Too black. Too white. Says who?

The people asking us these questions likely lived a generation before us. They came to know “multiculturalism” as a way of celebrating difference. So, to ask and be curious, may mean acknowledging differences rather than accepting commonalities. Moreover, it could mean that those who ask recall a time of repression and protest in the Philippines, but can’t move beyond the 300 years of colonialism that first defined race with privilege. White is beautiful because history’s conquerors said so. Black is beautiful because Philippine nationalism said it was time for a change. Filipinos have a lot of ideas of who we are and who we should be. It goes to show that with all the regional and ethno-linguistic differences found there, the added layer of being Canadian here only adds to this diversity. Confidence is knowing that beauty is, in this case, the same black, white, and brown kind.

Sources:

ANAK Oral History Project. Interview with Marisolle N. (7 January 2010)

Lim, B. C. “Cult Fiction,” Spectator 24.2 (Fall 2004): 61-72.

Honouring A Pioneer

Oral history book features Dr. Jose Belmonte

REVIEW
Published in Pilipino Express (September 1-15, 2012)

WINNIPEG – When Dr. Jose Belmonte came to Canada in November 1956 the Filipino immigrant population was so small that the government had no record of their number. He started his new life as a young medical intern in Sudbury, Ontario but he would later settle in Winnipeg where he took a job as an anaesthesiologist at Victoria Hospital in 1962. Fifty years later, Dr. Belmonte’s experience as one of the earliest Filipino-Canadians is featured in the new book entitled From Manila to Manitoba: Filipino-Canadian Oral History Series Volume 1, Winnipeg’s Health Professionals (c.1950-1970) by Darlyne Bautista.

Three years in the making, the book is the first in a series of five to come from the oral history project of the youth group Aksyon Ng Ating Kabataan (ANAK), which began documenting the experiences of ordinary Filipino-Canadians in 2009 through recorded interviews. Twenty-five of those interviews were featured in the exhibit From Manila to Manitoba at the Manitoba Museum in 2010.

Not just a biography

While first-generation Filipino-Canadians will certainly enjoy reading about Dr. Belmonte’s memories in the book, it is no “mere biography,” as stated in the introduction. There is also plenty of background information to aid all readers in understanding the circumstances that converged – both in the Philippines and in Canada – to bring Dr. Belmonte and so many other Filipinos to this country.

 

“I wanted to show how comprehensive oral histories can be – as opposed to the popular understanding of oral history as biography, Bautista told Pilipino Express.”

 

To that end, Belmonte’s selected anecdotes and comments serve as introductions to deeper examinations of such varied topics as the history of the elite class in the Philippines, the padrino culture of patrons and clients in Philippine society and politics, and even the birth of Canada’s public health care system.

Bautista’s approach not only provides a series of brief history lessons but it also helps to clarify Belmonte’s story for readers who did not grow up in the Philippines. For instance, one could easily miss the full import of Belmonte’s comment, “but my dad never got involved in politics,” but to most Filipinos, the meaning is clear: being a “non-political” professional in the Philippines is a career killer and therefore emigration is an attractive option. The comment thus becomes the starting point for a chapter on politics and opportunity in post-war Philippines. This combination of reminiscences and historical research makes From Manila to Manitoba a valuable work that scholars will consult for decades to come.

Four more volumes in the series will be published but a definite timeline for their release has not yet been set. “I want to be sure I honour all of the informants properly,” said Bautista.

 

A second-generation Filipina-Canadian, Darlyne Bautista holds a BA (Honours) in History and International Development from the University of Winnipeg and an MA in Southeast Asian Studies from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. She is also a school trustee in the Winnipeg School Division, Ward 3 and a founding member of ANAK.

 

From Manila to Manitoba Volume 1 featuring Dr. Jose Belmonte is available for order through the anakbooks.ca web site or by writing to info@anak.ca This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it . All purchases through anakbooks.ca help to support ANAK programming.

Lessons Learned

I just came back from the printer. Yes, the printer.
Volume One of the From Manila to Manitoba series is at the printer.

Looking back, after 3 years of countless hours combing through the archives and library, conducting interviews, writing (and re-writing), editing, designing (and re-designing), I want to share some of my experiences about the triumphs and trials of this process.

The project began, as you may already know, as a way of celebrating the 50 year anniversary of the Filipino-Canadian community in Winnipeg in 2009. A community concert was planned as well as various events throughout the city. A group of us Filipino-Canadian students and academics thought it would be more fitting to create something more substantive and lasting by gathering oral histories for future generations. It was a feat never done. It was also a huge dream; and a way for us ‘young’ people to give back.

Working on this project over the years, I’ve learned the REAL complexities of presenting and interpreting history. I can say I truly understand the sensitivities involved with gaining a special trust to not only learn of one’s life and experience, but also of handling one’s guarded memory of a time since gone. There is much context to be found between the interviewer and the informant. Somehow, in the intimacy of investigation, agendas and biases, jealousies and conflicts exert themselves into this relationship. As curator, it was my job to navigate this – something I’ve never done before with so much at stake and at such a large scale.

When embarking on an oral history project in an ethnic community as young and as large as the Filipino-Canadian one is in Winnipeg, I urge oral historians to consider:

TRUST

Why do you want to work with this community? Why do you feel you are worthy of being entrusted with their life narratives? Are you aware of how your work will affect their children and children’s children?

GOALS

What will you do with these oral histories? Who will it benefit? Who might it hurt?

PARTNERS

If this project requires needed partnerships, how will you communicate your goals with your stakeholders? Are you prepared to agree or disagree with them?

WHO

Who will you interview? How will you gather your informants?

CONTEXT

How will you interpret the oral histories gathered?

Will your informants agree with your interpretation? Does this matter to you?

 PUBLIC

How will you share what you’ve learned from them?

Each of these questions have entered my mind at certain stages of the project. I tried my absolute best to stay true to our objectives of honouring the community and the generations to follow with an honest and fair interpretation. It’s never been my goal to find the ‘truth’, but merely present what ‘truths’ are circulating about atop in an ivory tower or in the community at the grassroots. I guess I am searching for the middle. I feel it’s a responsibility I take very seriously.

To sum up, I need to borrow some words that have essentially become my motto as a scholar. They arrived from an Aboriginal Education conference I attended not too long ago. A First Nations’ scholar opened his talk on residential schools with the apt words:

“I’m not here to pimp out my family’s story.”

Short, kurt, and very true. I’ve learned that there is a public and a market that is in need of an experience to exploit (and dare I say, pity). I’ve lived as a Canadian all my life, but it’s the Filipino experience that has been arduous. I’ve grown in tandem with the then small community I will always be a part of. I share these stories so this journey will make a little more sense to all Canadians hoping to walk this journey together.

 

Review – Beyond greener pastures: exploring contexts surrounding Filipino nurse migration in Canada through oral history

Charlene Ronquillo,a Geertje Boschma, Sabrina T Wonga, and Linda Quiney, “Beyond greener pastures: exploring contexts surrounding Filipino nurse migration in Canada through oral history” Nursing Inquiry 2011; 18(3): 262–27.


Scholarship on Filipino-Canadian history is overwhelmingly represented through the experiences of domestic workers (Live-In Caregivers), underemployed professionals and their children almost always through a Toronto-centric perspective. These authors are rarely ever of Filipino heritage, but quick to underline the economic motivators that urge Filipinos to choose a `better life` in Canada. Exploitation, victimization, deskilling and family separation are prominent themes that describe the Filipino experience in Canada. But, is there something more we’re not discussing? In `Beyond Greener Pastures`, a 2011 article from 3 BC scholars (one  is a Filipina-Canadian nurse), it appears there may be.

Through the oral histories of 9 Filipino nurses from BC and Alberta who migrated from 1974 to 2005, the article investigates non-economic factors that affected their decisions to migrate. Simply, ‘[it] argue[s] that the popularity of immigration for Filipino nurses is not driven solely by economic motives but is also fueled by cultural pressures, the desire for status and an internalized desire to migrate.’ (p.263). Implementing oral history methods, the authors describe how life histories expose the experiences of under-represented communities in Canada albeit through the researcher’s interpretation (and not that of the informant).

They arrive at their thesis by piecing together a range of mentioned motivations to migrate as ‘few interviewees were able to articulate specifically the motivations behind their desire to leave the country’ (p.266). Cultural norms such as ‘obedience and obligation to family’ they argue heavily outweigh ‘the sense of freedom and personal choice in determining career paths’. (p.266) The nursing profession provided informant’s families a sense of prestige, employment and opportunity in the Philippines. They are right to underline that an economic message still resonates in their life histories.

For myself, I feel that I have entered oral history research in the same manner the Filipino author has – in disbelief of the lack of Filipino-Canadian research. She notes that as the sole interviewer, she was able to create an instant connection with her informants. I concur with her goals to create this relationship in research. I am also thrilled that oral histories are being collected and shared among our community in the West. The greater number of stories told will help dispel simplified assumptions of Filipino-Canadian histories across Canada (ie. third-world dissidents, subservient). Instead, the diverse stories across Canada will be told, heard, and drawn into lessons (ie. workers, professionals, children, we are Canadian). The authors urge scholars to consider delving further into this realm of research. I, of course, wish to share in this message.

For students, who wish to reference this work, I would only caution against the article’s over-simplification of the nurse-migration experience from the Philippines. For the 9 informants, the range in time in migration (from 1974 to 2005) I find is too broad. Labour migration policies in the Philippines were hardly stagnant from the time of its inception in the mid 1970s. Its entrenchment into the ‘culture of migration’ (p.266) they mention has much to do with the efforts of several successive Philippine governments, international bodies, and recipient countries (like Canada and its provinces). The article mentions the celebration of nurses specifically as ‘national heroes’ for their efforts to remit funds and thereby replenish depleted coffers (p.267). The bagong bayani (new heroes) slogan actually began in the 1990s by President Fidel Ramos to celebrate all OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers) for their contributions to the economy. Nevertheless, we see how nurses and OFWs shift in public perception from being mere migrant workers to new heroes in a matter of decades.

The implications of understanding the ease and incessant ‘need’ to go abroad marks the differing factors informants might have chose to leave. Why family urge their children to study nursing and go abroad, I am sure was not an inherent and timeless cultural motivator, but one that evolved as the Filipino diaspora grew, remittances replenished family bank accounts, and advertisements and nursing schools multiplied (private schools especially) to the point that such desires were inescapable. I feel the authors lumped the experiences of their informants together by omitting any details of the social and political climate found in the differing times of their departure. Perhaps, if this information were made available we would be able to interpret the agency of the informants for ourselves. The choice to obey and support family may be rooted in more than culture.

When we consider future Filipino-Canadian research, I say let’s delve deeper than economic factors and Filipino filial piety too.

See also: 
Charlene Esteban Ronquillo. Immigrant Filipino Nurses in Western Canada: An Exploration of Motivations and Migration experiences through oral history. Thesis for Masters of Science in Nursing. BScN, McGill University, 2007