Mail Order Bride, a True Story

I. Growing Up

Welcome to my Mail Order Bride story. This is the same story that I will be publishing in my book, "The Story of a Philippine M.O.B.". There will also be excerpts in my blog, "Mail Order Brides".

I will blog about travels to Asia or wherever you may want to go to meet someone you would like to marry. I am a mail order bride myself. I came to the U.S. many years ago, from the Philippines. No, the marriage was not a scam. It was, actually, a marriage based on love. That was in 1980. I had lots of dreams. First and foremost, to bring everybody - my father, mother, all my sisters, all my sisters kids and their kids. I had to start something. I am always the one who starts something good for the family. I remember, I was the first one who went to college. After high school - I will tell you the story of my high school graduation - I worked with my godmother and godfather. They owned a tailoring shop in Guadalupe, Makati City, Philippines. After I saved a little money, I took some typing and bookkeeping courses - so that I can work in an office. I was a very popular student in a mostly guys technical school - Guzman Institute of Technology. I was surprised that when I took a scholarship exam, I topped it and received a scholarship for a technical degree . All my male classmates helped me with my projects and that is how I passed the technical course.

Anyway, I do not want to deal too much on the schooling. I was not a bad looking girl and many guys courted me. After I left the technical school, I worked for the broadcast company - the largest during that time - and almost every man that courted me wanted me. To be a wife. Some even made up stories that "something" happened between the man and I. "Something" meant that I had a pre-marital sex with them. Oh the stories. Not that it matters to me, I was a real liberated woman, but it mattered because the men that courted me were not really the type of husband I was looking for. Actually, I really did not know what "type" I was looking for. I knew then that I would not be marrying someone from my country. There are many reasons: No. 1 reason is I wanted to come to America. If I married there, I will be stuck with a husband and kids and there will be no more chance of coming to the U.S. Number 2 reason is I was afraid to be associated to a different family. You've heard of what some of the Filipinos do to dogs. I am very much opposed to that. There are people in the Philippines who eat dogs. I had some neighbors who took very good care of their dogs - only to eat them someday. I knew some Philippine guys who would go around the neighborhood carrying some kind of noose and some food bait for the dogs - usually sandwiches laced with VetSin (MSG). I have heard some stories about it. I mentioned that I worked for the biggest broadcasting company in Quezon City. The head of security there (some general in a branch of a Philippine military) would order his security officers to put the dog in the trunk of a car to be transported somewhere. One day, in front of my broadcast booth, I saw this dog, very disoriented. I tried to help. I called a veterinary doctor to help. When the vet arrived and looked for the dog, it has already been slaughtered. What to do when you see something like that in the Philippines in the place of employment right in front of you where violence and abuse against animals are being carried on? Nothing -- but swear that someday - one will not be there anymore to see, observe and experience this kind of treatment to men's best friend. All those time I wished that I was the one who is so powerful - like Imelda Marcos, who could just order to punish those men who kill dogs. But, I was no body. I came from a family - which according to my relatives were related to some popular and wealthy politicians - but I saw no trace of wealth when I was growing up. I remember some time when we would wake up, my sisters and I would roast some rice so that we would have coffee. There were times when we were lucky to have rice to cook. We would run to the corner store and buy cooking oil or peanut butter. That would be our viand for the day.

We were not always poor. When our family came back from Mindanao after we were threatened by the Moros in Southern Cotabato, I recall going back to a big house in a big property. We even had a pond that was an unfinished swimming pool. The property was in Guadalupe. We had a large- I mean - huge! bamboo plant on the left side north of the house, and a large bamboo on the right side south of the house. The bamboo is at least 100 ft tall. The house was made of wood and on posts. Around the house there were several fruit trees, gardenias, jasmine, double jasmine, pomegrate trees, guava trees, tamarind trees, star apple. You name it, we had it. This was a city lot, not outside Manila where the properties are usually cheaper. This is in a prime city of Manila where nowadays holds the honor of having the most expensive real estate in the Philippines. Our neighbors would come early in the morning and ask permission to pick some jasmine flowers. We never said no.

I was 4 years old when we left the house to my grandfather, Tiago, to homestead in Southern Cotabato. I do not remember the time when we left, but my first recollection of all these was when we were in Mindanao and I was attending school - or rather - was being baby sat by the one and only teacher - Mr. Escalada, who was also the Principal. This was at the Lun Padido, Southern Cotabato. I remember the grass-covered one room school house. It was actually large. The students of all ages, were all learning about the same subjects, reading the same books, doing the same experiments. That must be really cool. I remember that when I was not crying and throwing temper tantrums on the floor of the school room, I was reading my A-B-C's on the board. The instruction was in English. I remember I was reading A-Z at that early age of 4.

Tiago is actually a step-grandpa. According to my mother, he was the 3rd husband of my grandma, Sinforosa (Pusay). I remember some good things we did with my grandma Tiago. I remember when I used to sit on his shoulder when we were in the plaza of Guadalupe so that I could see the movie or the stage shows. I remember he was a very neatly-dressed guy. He was a barber - I was told, the first barber in Guadalupe after the war. My family had the "first" businesses in Guadalupe after the war. My uncles and aunts on my mother side - had the first printing press (Rotor Printing Press) outside Fort William McKinley (it now called Fort Bonifacio). My dad was the first master tailor. My godfather, Pat Oblea, who owned Oblea Tailoring Shop, told me that he was a very good master cutter. That is the reason why even when he had his own tailor shop (Laurel Tailoring), he would always go to different cities when called by other tailors. Some tailors do not know how to make patterns and are not master cutters. My father was. I remember all the large pieces of paper on a large diging table (doubled as a pattern-cutting table at some point). He would take measurements, lay out the pattern, cut the pattern, then, as we watched, assembled the suit parts, piece by piece. Now I am thinking, what a feat. I wished he had taught all of us how he did it. I have three other sisters, one sister who died at 8 months of age (Rosemarie), and a brother (Francisco), who died immediately after birth. It is just 2 years ago that I found out that his father, Jose Laurel, originally of Negros Occidental, was also a master cutter/haberdasher and he was the one who taught my father the craft.

Stay tuned for the next part of this Mail Order Bride true story).....

5/5/20092/20/20114/2/2011

How About Russian Mail Order Brides?

A Friend's Experience Marrying a Russian Mail-Order Bride
A good friend of mine - we'll call him Bob - culminated 18 months of a pen-pal relationship with a Russian mail-order bride, when he agreed to meet the girl somewhere on the Polish border and bring her back to Italy with him.
http://www.associatedcontent.comarticle/14154/a_friends_experience_marrying_a_russian.html