Ohbijou “Balikbayan”
I worked a rather hectic 10 hour day today. The long-awaited arrival of rain here in the Bay Area turned my normal 40 minute commute into an hour and a half commute. Oddly enough, I was in peace. The traffic and the long day didn’t really bother me too much. This song in particular helped put me at ease.
Metal Meets is an album that I’ve listened to several times in the past week. For some reason, I never payed attention to the lyrics of this particular song, or any song on this album as I was more mesmerized by the instruments and the amazing vocals on this album, until I was sitting in traffic tonight. I thought I heard the Filipino word “balikbayan” but wasn’t sure I heard that correctly. Sure enough, it was.
For those unfamiliar with Filipinos and/or the language, the word “balikbayan” means to “return home”.
When Filipino immigrants return to the Philippines, they usually stuff a whole slew of goods to bring back to their usually underprivileged families, friends and relatives. The goods can range from candy to clothes, canned meats (see: SPAM and corned beef) to toiletries, and many other things that a typical American would take for granted. These goods are most likely packed in “balikbayan boxes.” Packing these boxes is a time consuming and well-thought out task. Not only do you have space restrictions, but you’ve also got weight restrictions due to airline regulations. Mental notes are taken to designate what things go to who. The whole process of acquiring the goods and packing them into a box can sometimes take a whole day.
Being a son of Filipino immigrants, I’ve seen this many a times. I’ve also seen the opening of the boxes when they’ve finally arrived to the destination in the Philippines. For me, going to the Philippines is a humbling experience. Poverty constantly in your face. My mom comes from a rice farming family a five hour drive north-east of Manila. My dad comes from a section of Manila. Both families don’t exactly live in desirable conditions. Meals consist of 90% rice and 10% dish. I’ve seen clothes I dismissed as old and ragged on the bodies of my cousins, uncles and even my aunts. The one thing I distinctly remember that was packed in a balikbayan box was an old Simpsons towel that was hung up on a clothesline outside of my dad’s mom’s house. The colors had been well faded and you could barely see Bart smiling at you on the towel, but the towel was still being used.
They get by with what they need, not with what they want. That’s a concept that’s not widely accepted in the land of plenty.
This tugged at my heartstrings.
