Inspired by the post: History Repeating Itself?
Back then, 1981, October 4th
Fryer Danch stuck his head into my office one day asking; “Do we look for new staff?”
“Not in particular, unless you can find me a man who can wash those damn stairs in city”, I quickly replied.
“Might got you a man for that”, Fryer answered.
Nah, I’m joking. We really can’t afford more staff right now since some staff are not fully booked and still get paid full salary. I know this response was not what Fryer wanted, but really, money was so tight it was not worth mentioning.
“Okay, but let me know when we can, because until then I have a man extra who’s eating his way through my kitchen”, was all Fryer said before leaving.
Looking back for those scared minutes of conversation, me sitting at my desk, Fryer standing in the doorway, I get goosebumps starting from my neck, down my back, all over my arms.
I’m NOT going to tell you (members) some scenes from a scary movie, nor either a tale of horror, but just few lines of events and words from the life of Mig.
It’s said that Philippine men after the birth of a child, go outside the house and name the child after what comes into his mind at that moment.
The Russians had in 1950 started to use the mighty MIG-15 in the Korean war. The Americans were taking by surprise by this new fighter and the world changed after that plane hit the skies.
Your father worked near the Clark Air Base as an Attendance on a Petrol Station where many US Military staff came by to buy beers and hang out. So often have you told me that your father was so impressed by the stories he heard of the MIG-15, so here you got your name.
Yes, I know you would love to tell me more about your father now, but let’s go on a bit more about what life you were born into and how you, despite the times, ended up here in Europe.
It’s pretty fair to say you were born into a shitty life.
I’m nor far off by saying, that if abortion were allowed back in January 1951, you haven’t been here today. Being the 11th child in a family living from day-to-day, never having either food, cloth nor means to sustain a decent life.
Okay, let’s get these fact up on the table first; 1/ although already the 11th child, your mother would still give birth to a son and 2 sisters more, before she died in 1958, only 41 years young. 2/ Being a single provider for 14 children spanning 5 moth old Mary Grace and you big brother Aki at 24, your father worked around the clock to feed you all. 3/ schools were for the rich and we count your family out here until your first proper class in 1961. 4/ Your daily life was up at 03.15 to walk the 4 kilometers to your uncle’s rice fields, where you day in and out worked until 11:30am every day of the week, but Sunday until till 8am only, because aunt Maribel would pick you up on her way to the church and Sunday School. 5/ You told me that already by 1963 you family only consisted of 4 brothers and 6 sister due the death of the other 4 by bad health (don’t tell Mig that I know they died of malnutrition and lack of medical care)
The above will be the beginning of A Life To Be Told.
Since I’m not a writer, you might find minor spelling mistakes along the way, wrong grammar ever so often (Mig were actually MY reason to learn English).
It will be to hard for both me and Mig to write all down today, so bear with partly Mig, partly me, that this account of life will be both shaved down, but also spilt up in 3 sections.
Now we supplied you with the circumstances of birth, some early childhood, in fact; just the raspy beginning.
I do hope the Moderators of this site – on a later day – will allow this account to be re-posted so they follow each other as 1,2, & 3.