This piece is one of the 10 winners of our 2022 profile contest. You can find more here† Yueyang Gethe author, is 16 and goes to UWC Southeast AsiaDover Campus, in Singapore.
Fighting the wind
By Yueyang Ge
Ynnel Villarias left her hometown on the day her youngest daughter turned six.
“I had to explain to her over and over that this is for her future. Our future. Mama’s going away to earn money so we can pay for our school and build our own little house,” she said. “We are going to plant so many orchids in front of the house. As much as we want.”
Seven years later, Mrs. Villarias would remember this dream, which she painted for her three daughters as much as for herself. She would remember the night she landed in Singapore and became a migrant housekeeper. Remember, you squeezed and scrubbed every last bit of toothpaste for seven years. The transfers she sent. Brick by brick, the photos of her dream house become reality.
Ms. Villarias remembered all this when Typhoon Rai hit her birthplace in the Philippines and wiped everything out. This interview has been edited and abridged.
What was your first reaction when you heard about the typhoon situation in your hometown?
On December 16 at about 9 pm I received a text message from my oldest daughter: “Mom, the typhoon has hit our city. We leave for shelter in our uncle’s house.”
Immediately I was struck by flashbacks of the night I first experienced a Category 3 typhoon. My younger sister and I were walking to my aunt’s house for shelter when a tall mango tree fell to the ground just behind us—less than five steps away. I felt the water splash on my back. We could have died.
I was only 13 at the time. So was my youngest daughter. What if the same happens to her? To my other two daughters? Would they be fast enough to dodge a falling tree if the electricity goes out and their surroundings are pitch dark?
But no one could tell me what happened. The next 48 hours, the signals were completely cut off.
What emotional challenges did you face when you lost touch with your family?
I have never felt more anxious. At night I stayed awake and prayed, God, please protect us. Every time I turned on my phone, I said to myself, “Maybe this time.” Maybe, for once, one of my daughters would be online. “Please, let me talk to them.” But no. 48 hours nothing.
How did you deal with it?
I knew I had to keep working – fighting. Although I was stuck in Singapore due to Covid, it was all I could do for my family. It’s hard for me as a mom because when my kids needed me the most, I took care of others’ kids. I prepared breakfast for my employer’s children, cleaned their bedrooms and sent them to school…
My friends (including migrant housekeepers in Singapore) also helped me deal with my anxiety. Every once in a while they would message me and ask, “Are you okay?” I always replied, ‘Yes, I’m fine. Still fighting.” One of my friends said to me, “You take it positively. You fight. I’m here as your sister to help you.”
How did this typhoon affect your family and other people in your city?
When my oldest daughter woke up on December 18, she saw that every house in our town had been razed to the ground. Fishing boats were wrecked and corpses of pigs and cows were everywhere – the livelihood of my town was destroyed. There was nothing left of my house. My sister’s shop was gone. But I really thank God that everyone in my family is safe. The house can be rebuilt, but if my loved ones were gone, they would never come back. I felt lost because it was a lot of money I spent building the house, but I can start again.
What’s next for you? Any lessons to pass on?
I will continue to work in Singapore until all my daughters go to university and our house is rebuilt. All the trials of life are like a typhoon – a violent storm that uproots everything you have. But you never let the wind destroy you. You fight and fight it until you get strong. I’m still fighting.