On Monday, the 23rd of January, my mother, Inay, will celebrate her 70th birthday. She will have a big party with dancing and feasting. Unfortunately, I will not be there. With this post, I wish to greet her a happy birthday.
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My mother, Ka Belen, as she is popularly known in our place, is an accomplished dressmaker, an artisan in her trade. People came to her for their clothing needs - dresses, pants, Barong Tagalog, uniforms, wedding gowns. Later, she expanded her services to include curtains, sofa covers and upholstery, bed covers, car seat covers, even.
She made clothes for my sister and me. Sometimes, I did not want to wear the things she sewed because I thought that the ready-made ones from the department stores were better. Besides, most of my classmates wore store-bought clothes. So, I wanted to have store bought clothes as well. I was that kind of daughter.
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She was a multi-tasker. To allow her to care for us when we were babies and still work, she attached a long string to the
cradle so that she could pull at it and rock the cradle as she worked. She worked day in and day out except on Sundays. On Sundays, her working table was clean.
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Inay did not get a college degree. Being the oldest daughter of a poor family, she was sent to a vocational school after high school so that she could learn a trade and help her family as quickly as possible. When I entered high school, Inay decoded to pursue further education. She enrolled in a distance learning course and received her modules regularly. But this daughter, me, did not like it. I was embarrassed that my mother was learning the same things that I was learning in school. I do not know if any of my siblings remember this time. Now, I feel sad and sorry about how I reacted. I wonder how her life and our lives would have been different if Inay got the education she desired.
When I was in junior high school, Inay left for Kuwait to work as a seamstress in a department store owned by one of Kuwait's nobilities. She worked there for most of my teen years until my late twenties, with only short vacations at home in between, so that she could help better in meeting our rising education costs, among other things.
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She was in Kuwait when the First Gulf War broke. She became a refugee in one of the evacuation centers. I prayed for her homecoming. One day, I was surprised when I came home from school. There was a strange looking lady sitting on my chair. It was my mother. She looked haggard from the trip but she was alright. Somehow, she and her companions were able to secure a transportation out of Kuwait and board a plane to Manila. I wish now that I wrote down her escape story so that I can remember it better.
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When I was about to get married, Inay applied for a visa so that she could attend my wedding. The US Embassy in Manila denied her application because she was perceived to be a terrorist threat. Her passport showed that she lived in Kuwait. Fortunately, the Canadian Embassy was not as scared of her. It gave her a visa to visit my brother and his family who are in Quebec. We visited her in Canada when she came over for an extended stay.
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Now that I am middle aged myself, I am starting to look more and more like my mother. I wonder what she will say about that.
Happy birthday, Inay.
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Have a great day and best regards,
Imelda