Sugar Plantation Origins

Recently, I had the "mind-tickles" of looking up my ancestry. Although I'm pretty sure, for years, that there won't be anything much new to find out from the oral history I've had from my grandparents. I gave Ancestry.com a try because of their 14-day trial, smugly telling myself they'll come to a dead-end before the non-paying period is over. In an hour, I got records indicating my paternal grandfather's journey from the Philippines to the islands of Hawaii.

My ancestor is a sugar plantation laborer who boarded SS Lincoln on December 1, 1928, from the port of Manila and set foot on the Hawaiin shores on December 21 of the same year. According to the passenger manifest, my grandfather was 18 years old, single, and presumably meeting his older brothers who are laborers themselves in Mauna Kea Sugar Company.

Eventually, my grandfather would go on to marry my grandma, and they will have five children. In time, my grandfather will bring his wife and all of his children, but one son, to Hawaii to live there and have families. His son, who stayed in the Philippines, will become an engineer and raise six children. To do that almost impossible feat, he will work in the Middle East for 20+ years, missing most birthdays, graduations, weddings, and other special occasions. 

I am the youngest of the six children of that one son of my sugar plantation laborer grandfather. 

I am proud of that sentence, which encompasses my lineage. I come from a family line of hard-workers, of explorers, of brave souls who did what they had to do to get by and make it through. For some reason, my father doesn't talk about why he stayed. I have lots of questions, but I do not dare to ask them yet. I was trained to ask only if I'm ready for the worst possible answer. I don't know if I ever will get to ask for clarifications. Nonetheless, I see the pattern- whether by design or coincidence. 

In my small inner circle of friends, those bloodline traits are in full display in my life. For those just outside that group, I look as if my life played out in an ideal way- of spontaneous circumstances, carefree living, and impulsive decision- making. Let me bring you in the borders of the circle now- it wasn't, and it isn't. But as what my father and grandfather before me did, I wouldn't talk about it in detail. Not yet.

I write this in recognition of the grit and perseverance of that 18-year-old boy aboard the ship to somewhere strange to start a new life. I write this in honor of the bravery and courage of that young man with six children to feed and educate boarding a plane to the Arabias, and knowingly giving up being an active participant in his children's lives. I write this in a humble offering of their sacrifices. 

PostScript: I also learned in a 1940 US Census Record that my grandfather had the educational attainment of 4th grade. I teach kids, as a profession, to read, write, count, and be good people. I hope I make him and my father proud. 

Notes from the COVID-19 Battlefield

I am infected with COVID-19.
No, I don't have the virus that physically attacks my body, but I suffer from its effects. I am scared, confused, and helpless to deal with the uncertainty.

I made the tough decision to make a compromise in my career, putting it on pause (yet again) because there is no viable system that would guarantee my young middle-schooler child's safety. I'm an early educator. Some call us daycare workers, but I'll fight till the end to be given that educator title. I have two degrees to back that up and more than two decades of experience to boot. But that's another war I'm waging and another story to tell. So, I am a teacher. Proud to be and worked many years to achieve what I have and to be where I'm at in this field. I rose to the ranks by pure effort.


But, as much as I'm dedicated to my profession. I am a mom. That's my ultimate job. I find it hypocritical to pursue taking care of others' children when I can't ensure the safety and well-being of my own. If he stays home alone on remote learning from 8 am to 5 pm while we work, how sure am I that there are no predators that might stalk and harm him, knowing he's vulnerable? Or that he will not feel like we've left him for our own pursuits? If the schools open up, how safe is he from the unseen enemy? Can he really feel like he makes stable connections without the usual interactions he's known with his friends and teachers? Will that make him feel more isolated and alone?

Of course, we've talked at length and often about these possible scenarios with our son and all the safety guidelines we can implement. He puts on a brave face and voice and tells us he will do his best on whatever plan we'll take. He frequently comes crawling into bed late at night with us, asks to be held, and says, "I'm scared, mommy"!

COVID has got me, like so many other families, infected with fear and uncertainty. We are at war, and all of us will come out of this with some form of trauma. In these times, there's only so much we can do. Set your priorities, bear down, and hold on to your faith and beliefs. Survive however way you can.

Good luck, and hold on!