An open letter to our yaya’s

My mom asked me to do the laundry earlier. I thought it would be just a small load but when I checked, it was a pile of bedsheets, pillow cases, and towels. For those who have no idea how to do the laundry, those are really hard to wash since they get really heavy once they get wet. Not knowing this, I started laundry late— at around 4:00PM. Sadly enough, I usually cook dinner for us at around 5:00PM. So I had to go back and forth the back door to do the laundry and to cook dinner simultaneously.

Addition to doing a heavy load of laundry and cooking dinner, I had to feed our dog and keep him from going out the house since I kept opening and closing the back door (because he fits under our gate and sometimes he runs off alone; and if something was to happen to our pug because of me, I think I’ll have to move out). While I was doing all of this, I initially thought that being yayas (or maids, nannies, caretakers— whatever you want to call them) isn’t an easy job.

We stopped hiring nannies roughly five years ago, mainly because my sister went off to college and the household chores became manageable to do on our own.

I thought: all this for a mere 2, 000 to 5, 000 pesos a month. I don’t mean to sound like a spoiled brat or anything alike, but I don’t know how people can manage with that kind of salary— especially if they have mouths to feed. I computed our expenses, and when I was still in college, every month would cost my parents at least 45,000 pesos including only our tuition fees (if paid in installments), dormitories, and allowances.

Doing the laundry, doing the dishes, cooking, sweeping, mopping, cleaning the cars, cutting grass, taking care of children— all these may sound really petty work for you, but it’s never easy; and to do all these every day for 2,000 to 5,000 per month? I don’t even know it’s considered worth it.

Nevertheless, yayas do it. They do it for the money, for their own loved ones, or sometimes simply because they fell in love with the family they’ve worked with.

I remember one of the yayas we had played the guitar. We had a spare guitar and we gave it to her. She was so happy. She played it every time she had the time. She was really nice. She was a bit older than the usual nannies we had, but she wasn’t grumpy at all. She was very calm and kind. I remember when she was newly hired, she didn’t want to eat with us at first. She said she wasn’t used to eating together with her amo-s, or with the people she worked for. My mom said that in our house that rule doesn’t apply. Her name was Ate Ligaya. She was with us for two years, I think.

Of course, I also remember the longest yaya we had who was with us for at least four years. After her, no one really stayed as long. She had to start a family of her own, which I now understand. But I remember going hysterical when I found out that she was leaving—I literally messed up the house: I took off the bedsheets from the beds, the couch-sheets from the couch, turning everything I can carry upside down without breaking them.

Ate Anna, her name, was there when I learned how to ride a bike. She was there when I was learning how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide. She was there to pick the bones out of the chickens and fishes we had for meals—or in Tagalog, paghihimay. She was there when we ran around and got scratches, bruises and cuts. She was there to greet us once we got home from school. She prepared our packed lunches and snacks for school. She would wait for us to fall asleep before going down to her room. If memory serves me right, she was the one who taught us to watch Tagalog channels and shows—specifically Meteor Garden. She did a lot of things for us.

Most of all, (and frankly this is a topic I dread of telling people I barely even know) she was there when my parents were going through a very hard and rough separation. My parents started to fight when I was every young. They would trap me and my sister in our rooms while they settled their problems anywhere else in house. I remember Ate Anna watching television with us in our room— making us ignore the fights. She tried explaining why they were fighting. She tried to put the volume up so we wouldn’t hear anything. She was there through one of the bumpiest times in our home.

I respect the decision my parents made for their marriage, bute they did not raise us to believe that they left us with the yayas—to make it clear: my parents raised us. But they also raised us to treat them with the utmost respect, and appreciation we can offer.

We had a lot of yayas after Ate Anna. One walked the dog during the night with high heels and make up on. One was broken hearted for a long time because of a cheating boyfriend. My mom told me when I was in pre-school, one couldn’t leave me alone at all because I would start to cry if she did. Others were single who needed to pay for the bills back home for their siblings, nephews, nieces, parents, others had families of their own, and others were single parents.

We had all kinds of yayas.

So to the alaga-s and the parents, give your yayas the appreciation they deserve. In some way, they are the same with overseas Filipino workers—they leave their own families to make a living. They do these sometimes-so-called petty things for us, and sometimes they get dragged along our own problems without deserving any of these. If you’re not good with verbal communication like me, do little things for them. Buy them a cake on their birthdays, or give them days off. Sometimes even be the one to cook for them, or clean for them. Always understand, especially when you are angry with them, that some things are hard for them to do alone or to comprehend—that they have problems of their own, and they’re not perfect. Say sorry when you hurt them. Say thank you for every little or big thing they do. Most of all, never treat them any less than human beings.

To all the yayas we had, I was a very stubborn child. I’m sorry to cause you headaches. But I think I never got the chance to personally thank you. I’m not very good with keeping in touch with anyone, so through this, I hope you know that I thank you. Thank you for the time, love, and effort you gave us.

To all the yayas, maids, nannies, babysitters, caretakers, or even the family drivers, I know sometimes your amo-s can get really stubborn or scary, but they’re just tired from school or work—I hope you understand. I hope you give time for yourself. I thank you for everything you’ve done and sacrificed, or simply for taking care of us. I hope you are doing well; and most of all, I hope you never think or feel that you are lesser beings than anyone else.