A MAN'S GOT TO DO
ROMEL CHITO MACARIO and his friends stand out in the crowd of migrant workers gathered outside the Legco building, the only men in a sea of women. But like their female counterparts, many are far from home and family - and earning their wages by taking care of the homes and families of others.
The men came together last Sunday for Cordillera Day, an annual event to raise awareness about their home - the Cordillera Administrative Region, a mountainous area in northern Luzon. The Cordillera contingent is unique among Filipino migrant workers because a large number are men. So many, in fact, that they have a Cordillera Men's Club. 'It's to have someone to turn to,' says Macario, 49, president of the organisation. 'It's good to have support.'
According to the Immigration Department's latest statistics, there are more than 119,000 Filipino and 97,000 Indonesian foreign domestic helpers in Hong Kong. Including Thais and other nationalities, they make up 225,310 workers. The majority are women, who have left behind brothers, fathers, boyfriends and husbands. But some men also find their way to Hong Kong, where they become part of a minority within a minority - men in a community of females.
'The women often try to get their husbands to come over,' says male domestic worker Eman Villanueva, who is secretary general of the United Filipinos in Hong Kong. 'Often the men can only manage to stay for short periods because of visa restrictions. But sometimes they're lucky and find a reasonable employer who will provide both with work.'
Few couples manage this set-up. Villanueva and others in the community estimate men make up only 2-3 per cent of the Filipino population here. For Indonesians, that number is even lower. Some men work in construction, but those jobs aren't easy to get. Others become cleaners, cooks, landscapers and drivers.
The Cordillera Club serves as a network for some of these men. 'When people have troubles or problems, we try to help,' says Mario Ekid, 51, one of the club's founders and a driver for a Hong Kong family. 'It is an old custom in our tribe that if someone needs help, we've got to do something.' Sometimes the help is monetary. Sometimes it's legal. Often it's finding someone a place to stay if they've lost their job.
But the support is also social. On Sundays, while many of their female counterparts head to public squares and malls to meet friends, the men often gather for basketball games or to down a few pints of their home country's brew, San Miguel. It's a chance to 'relax and talk about any problems or issues', says Ekid. He says this weekend they'll get together for a swim at Repulse Bay.
Sundays and public holidays are also a time for couples to see each other. Although many men move to Hong Kong to be with their wives or girlfriends, sometimes being employed in different parts of the city means they rarely see their partners. 'It's funny,' says Villanueva, a bachelor. 'You move all the way here and then only meet Sundays.'
Ekid, who has been in Hong Kong 14 years, says he's lucky because he and his wife live together at her employer's house. Their sacrifice is having to leave their children in the Philippines. As with their fellow workers, the couple visit family in the Philippines only once or twice a year. But they send money home every month, just like most of their friends.
Last year, Filipino workers abroad sent home US$10.7 billion, or 12 per cent of the country's gross domestic product. Indonesians sent home US$2.93 billion. Those numbers are even more impressive given they must support themselves in foreign countries on low salaries. In Hong Kong, Filipinos on average send 30 per cent of their monthly salary home. The rest goes to living costs, loan payments and fees for job placement agents, says Aaron Ceradoy, a researcher with the Asia Pacific Mission for Migrants.
For some men, there's a huge adjustment to being a housekeeper. 'It took time,' says Alberto Laconsay, 46, who was a domestic helper for an elderly man for almost 11 years. 'I wasn't used to spending 10-12 hours a day inside. At first, it felt like prison.'
Many women have the same difficulties when starting work as domestic helpers. But Laconsay hadn't done much cooking or housekeeping in the often macho-world of the Philippines, where his job as a sign maker often kept him outdoors, travelling around Manila. But wages were miniscule and he had two children to support. So in 1992, when his mother and two sisters, who were working in Hong Kong, said they could get him work in Hong Kong, he took the chance. 'It will be better than no work at all,' he recalls thinking.
For the first six months, Laconsay was afraid he wouldn't cope. He felt isolated, and had to learn to cook and cater to his aged employer. Although he met other Filipinos on weekends, Laconsay is a non-drinker, so socialising with other men in similar situations was often limited. Over time, however, he adjusted and began to enjoy the challenge. 'It's important to like your work,' he says.
Furthermore, his employer was kind and paid him slightly above the minimum wage, now set at $3,320 a month. When his employer died, Laconsay felt the loss deeply. 'He died holding my hand.'
Meanwhile, Laconsay has built a new life in Hong Kong. Now a gardener and utility man on a large housing estate, he says he likes being outside and working with other people. And despite being unable to secure a divorce from his wife, he has found another partner and became a leader in the Filipino Migrant Workers' Union. Politically active when he lived in the Philippines, Laconsay now spends his Sundays trying to recruit members.
He has considered moving back to the Philippines, but the savings he expected haven't materialised. 'I'm the victim of big dreams,' Laconsay says. 'I had come to save a lot of money and return to buy a house or start a business, but things are expensive. Between sending money home to my kids and life here, I didn't save what I had hoped for.'
He isn't only staying because of the money, though. Laconsay says he's committed to his union work. Unlike some organisations that only protest, the union aims to provide legal support for migrant workers who have been mistreated or underpaid. Although the membership isn't as high as Laconsay would like, he says the organisation is gaining support among migrant workers.
Villanueva, whose United Filipinos often collaborates with the union, agrees. The activist remembers marches in 1998 drawing just over 1,000 people. Today, they can mobilise more than 10,000. 'Things are still difficult for migrant workers, but people are getting more and more involved politically,' he says.
Meanwhile, the Cordillera Men's Club will keep organising social activities such as basketball games on Lockhart Road and the annual Cordillera Day. Although it's not all fun and games, Macario reckons the men have things pretty good compared to most migrant workers.
'I haven't had problems with my employer,' Macario says. 'I've heard lots of bad stories from women, about their employers treating them badly. In general, we have fewer problems than women.'
Like Ekid, Macario has his wife with him in Hong Kong, with their children left in the care of relatives in the Philippines. Although it's been difficult 'giving advice by phone' to the kids, Macario doesn't regret his choices.
'It's tough; you miss the kids,' he says. 'But otherwise you'd be back home without a good job, unable to provide.'
