What I didn’t realize until recently was that servants grew old, too, not just me! And that their aging cost a lot! You see, my husband died recently. He had been sick for eight years, which necessitated a lot of hands on deck. But suddenly I was by myself, and they were just too many.
There were two drivers—one on standby to rush him to Emergency, or to the endless hospital procedures he had to undergo. Also to hunt for hard-to-find, sometimes illusory things a fine old man desired—and deserved.
It was loyal and trusted Beni who helped me edit the ranks. She had been with Dad and me for the past 38 years—risen from cleaner and santol-tree climber, to weeder, to kids’ yaya, to cook, and finally Dad’s caregiver. She vowed to take care of me, too, until I died.
Of course she’d remain. So would Christine, with us only two years, the cleaner who was a techie and could text, manage the computer, type, e-mail and push my wheelchair in the mall.
I let go of the more recent driver. I kept Gilbert, Dad’s driver, who had been with us 18 years and wanted to stay. In a few months he turned 60, was able to collect his SSS pension and received full retirement pay from me. Soon, however, Gilbert had several bad attacks of gout. He asked to retire. I had to hire a new driver, quick!
A few months after the new driver had been trained, he had a long bout of flu. And then he resigned! My heart sank at the prospect of having to acquaint another new guy with the streets and the numerous places I went to.
As usual, I asked my retired driver, Gilbert, to recommend a new one. But he said, “Ako na lang ho! Babalik na lang ako!”
Again! But I was just so relieved and said yes, yes! He asked me for a raise. I made him swear on a stack of Bibles that he would not ask me for another retirement package when he retired again (!). He swore.
Too precious
As part of our hoary household, I also have a gardener-handyman who had been with Dad and me for about nine years. Aki could garden, do masonry, paint, clean the numerous window glass panes and do small household repairs. He was too precious to let go. Besides, I shared Aki’s salary with my neighbor-son in the compound.
Beni and Christine could easily divide the now-reduced work between them. That left Nelia, the washerwoman, out in the cold. Nelia had been with us 16 years. She was illiterate and forever fearful of a kapre whom she insisted lived in the big tree outside the sala. Nelia was as plump as a marshmallow and about as dumb. But she was sweet-tempered and gentle; we all loved her. It would be difficult to let her go.
“Why me?” asked Nelia, sobbing to my youngest son when he came to visit. “If Attorney were still alive today I wouldn’t be going home.” Precisely! But I still felt guilty.
I, too, had imagined myself on my deathbed surrounded, not just by family, but all the faithful help. Now it just seemed too extravagant a thought. In a gesture of gratitude, I had given three of them their full retirement pay even if they were still staying on. It was draining me. I couldn’t be dishing out more money with nothing coming in. Nor could I afford to run an old folks’ home.
In the past, my mother’s antique driver, Apron, had been bequeathed to me when mama died. He was an old bachelor, by then crippled, with no family to go home to, and so he stayed with Dad and me until he died.
Nelia has been gone about six months now. Within the first two months, all her retirement pay was wiped out. She had texted Beni, borrowing money. Her cousin, Beni, explained that Nelia’s husband was a fisherman and has no income anymore. Their daughter and her husband, who earns nothing either, lives with them. So does their son, also jobless, who is getting married. They used to rely on Nelia’s salary.
It’s the story of all the poor in our country. It breaks my heart. What will they eat on Christmas Day? So I sent Nelia a full Christmas bonus even though she no longer works for me.
You’ve been lucky, my friends tell me. Today it’s difficult to find help when you lose one. They’d rather have white collar jobs or try to get employed abroad.
Lucky? Maybe I am. If I weren’t so old, if they weren’t so old, hmmm… Let me think about it.
