I Am Buraot

February 28, 2001. That was eight years ago. The 16 hour flight from Manila was uneventful. I was traveling with my brother, my sister and her son.

They were all excited, eager to see what the land of milk and honey could bring. Hopeful and quite optimistic for a new and better life in America.

They all were ecstatic. I wasn’t.

Ever since we had the news that our immigration papers were approved, contrary to what everybody felt, I was shattered. It was as if my life ended. Suspended was the more appropriate term. Yes I was waiting for this to come, but that was when I still don’t have kids.

Life in the Philippines was getting harder everyday. So an opportunity like this one is definitely hard to resist. And it was even harder for me. My kids are growing up, they needed more, I needed to provide more, and I needed to secure their future. A better opportunity is now at hand, at least for my kids, so I needed to go. That was the simple economic truth. Continue Reading…

I was so relieved when the plane landed.

After more than sixteen hours on the plane and a six-hour layover in Seoul, I was very much ready for a bed. Without much legroom to find on economy class, I think my arthritis had gotten worse.

I wondered if somehow I could fly first class next time. Yeah right, I said to myself.

The plane was still moving but the passengers were already off their feet, scrambling for the overhead cabins to retrieve their carry-ons, they couldn’t wait to get off. I would like to join the ruckus myself, if only for the other passenger next to me who was blocking my way. He was still dozing off. I don’t want to be rude and wake him up just yet. He was sleeping the whole time I guess he was so tired and didn’t know sleep ‘til he found this flight.

For sure he wouldn’t know the difference if ever our pilot decided to land on Mars. Continue Reading…