Grand Prize:A different kind of love
MANILA, Philippines - There is a hovel, right smack on the outskirts of Paris, France. It is the tiniest house you ever did see. There are two regular occupants in the house: Nanay and her daughter Janet.
They are Pinoys — Nanay and her husband, now dead, came to this most romantic city to work as OFWs two decades ago. They started as cleaners at public toilets, doing the humblest of occupations just to make ends meet. Their pay envelopes always landed in Pampanga, where their children resided. Little by little, somehow, somewhere, they were able to bring all their children to Paris.
On their arrival at the City of Lights, their children only duplicated jobs their parents did. Fortunately, through the years the clan progressed, getting better jobs while learning the ropes of Paris living. They all still speak only a smattering of French, using sign language most of the time.
By this time, they got to know more fellow Pinoys who, like them, had chosen to reside in Paris. That is how their hovel became a refuge for Filipinos who could not find jobs, who had to seek shelter because they had run out of money, or because they were sick. This is how Jose Francisco Sarte had come to be a part of Nanay’s family. Popoy (his nickname) had arrived in Paris as scholar at the prestigious Sorbonne University. In two years, he had garnered all the honors at his graduation. By this time he was loving it in Paris and decided to stay on.
He sought refuge in Nanay’s hovel, sharing their home while looking for odd jobs here and there. In the process, he learned to clean toilets, do the most menial tasks he never knew he would have to do in his lifetime. He almost forgot about being a scholar in Sorbonne, once upon a time.
Throughout this, he started to feel pains in his body; and by the time he went to the hospital, it had escalated into a complicated stage of cancer. He was now too weak to go back home, but by some streak of luck the hospital was looking for a guinea pig for their experiment on a new medical procedure. Popoy offered to be The Guinea Pig with no second thought. It was the best thing for him under the circumstances.
As he went through endless treatments, Nanay embraced him with love and much care while the rest of the family took to journey with him in his illness. Not one member of the clan complained about his being a burden, they accepted his cancer and knew it would be a long plight for all of them who were committed to helping Popoy. It was perhaps the ambience of the people that surrounded Popoy with their unending compassion and love that Popoy recovered completely. Today, Popoy works at the ticketing office of Cathay Pacific Airlines.
Though Popoy does not live with Nanay anymore, he continues to be a part of their family. This hovel of a home, a transient place for Pinoys, has never closed its doors to anyone that needs the family’s help. It is not only a home for everyone, but a place that is brimming with kindness for anyone that needs a room in their hearth. Hearing stories about Nanay and her compassion for her fellowman, makes me wonder if truly they are real people or are a family of angels sent from above to help Pinoys lost and lonely in that far away land?
In my dreams, I would like to make a last hurrah trip to Paris someday. I love Paris. To me it is my enchanted land, and I dream each day that I will once again walk on its avenues, spill out to Aix-en-Provence and look for gastronomical places. But in my dreams of Paris now, I am more eager to see this hovel of a blessed place, meet the Pinoys that have excelled in the art of sharing. Only then will I know if they are truly real people or a band of God’s angels in disguise.
