Back amid the dereliction of Talisay.
I had become acquainted with a street-food vending family down the street – the mother, the father, the two younger brothers and sister – then one day, I was introduced to the eldest daughter.
First impression, she was a goddess, but still young; maybe too young.
Turned out she was 20 making me, at 39, basically twice her age. While I was initially hesitant with the arrangement no one else appeared troubled by the age disparity and, intellectually, we connected immediately; she was brilliant – intelligent, wise, mature, funny – we chatted for six hours the first afternoon into evening, just talking, laughing, learning about each other.
Fair to say, by the end of that first day, I would have done anything for street-food daughter.
Every morning now, mid-November 2022, following breakfast at the 7/11 just down from my hotel, I would excitedly head further down the street and hang out at my street-food joint, waiting for the young Criminology student to make her appearance.
Two weeks later, ‘besotted’ is an understatement. My departure date is nearing and, well, I have spent enough time in this world to understand that one should never turn their back on an opportunity such as this; problem is, I already have employment lined up in Vietnam for 2023 but now, damn it, I want to be in Philippines – want to be with street-food daughter. Hm. Additionally problematic is the fact that I don’t like Philippines. I like one woman in Philippines but, as a country, I could very easily go the rest of my life without Philippines. So insanely captivated I am by this woman in Philippines, however, I presently find myself searching for jobs in Philippines; even applied for two of them – one at a Call Center and one at an English Academy I’d never heard of. (Compared with Vietnam, in the latter field, I was aware the pay was lower but, I didn’t care, I just wanted to be with street-food daughter.)
Next day, I receive an invitation for a job interview with Cebu International Academy (CIA); two days later, I had the job.
Caption: ‘Foolish White man, heart on his sleeve impetuously trying to make a life in Philippines, and the Dictators of Fate do appear to be on his side.’
The sceptic in me, though, the investigative journalist said it was too good; too easy.
Oddly, nobody at my street-food joint seemed terribly enthusiastic about my newest ‘act of commitment’; therefore, speaking about it with the object of my affections, street-food daughter, I was told, bizarrely, “My mother still doesn’t think you serious about me…”
Five Stages of Filipino Courtship – Attraction, Reality, Commitment, Intimacy, Engagement.
‘Attraction’ is obvious. ‘Reality’ is the act of processing your emotions to the extent of differentiating fantasy from reality; I felt I had achieved that. ‘Commitment’ is where I was lacking, apparently; here was me, making significant changes to my hitherto scrupulously planned life-plan yet, it was seemingly insufficient to prove to the mother that I was ‘committed’ to her daughter. Thus, I paid for a semester’s Criminology tuition (Philippines, money talks louder than anything). Still unsure though if my ‘commitment’ is being properly appreciated, and with my departure looming, I took control of the situation and bought an engagement ring; seemed to me, that was always the plan anyway, so why not do it now, as a further display of ‘commitment’?
Made sense at the time, anyway.
When I proposed, I made clear that I did not expect to be wedding her anytime soon, this was just to ‘solidify’ the relationship – now she knew I was coming back for her, hundred percent, and I knew that she would be waiting for me. She seemed overjoyed; we chatted about our future and set the date for May 2025.
‘Commitment’, done. ‘Intimacy’, missed but we could make up for that later, and now ‘Engagement’ also done, I thought. Nice one. ‘Nailed it’, I thought.
Early December, I returned to New Zealand for Christmas with my biological family.
Late December, having already organised accommodation for ‘my fiancé and me’ within walking distance of my place of employment in Mactan, I returned to Philippines.
Early January, I signed my contract with CIA and started work as a full-time ‘Native English, Main Teacher’.
Late January, street-food daughter moved into our house with me.
Her phone had broken, so I gave her some cash for a new one.
Then she was stressed because she didn’t have enough money to pay for the upcoming Criminology semester…
Apparently, the money I had paid was backpay which had covered the last semester, and now she needed more money to fund the coming semester. Controlling myself, I told her that she was full of shit, adding, “There is no university in the world that allows students to enrol for one semester on the proviso that they will pay their fees, like good little students, next semester.” That pissed me off. Later though, the story changed; now her mother had used 6,000 Pesos of the tuition fund to buy her brother a new phone, so now she just needed the cost of a new phone, again.
…I knew I was being lied to, and it crushed me like no other lie had. Street-food daughter, during November ’22, had shown me that she was an upstanding, honourable young woman; then during December ’22, something had changed, she had somehow become corrupted.
January ‘23, the woman I loved repulsed me. Compounding this, my engagement ring had mysteriously disappeared from her finger – “My mom pawned it to pay for something ‘cause she needed money real bad…” – once a woman I trusted wholeheartedly, someone for whom I would have done, would have given, anything and now, I didn’t believe a word she said.
Not all Filipino women, but most, many.
Article by Tim Walker
Edited by Syd Story
Photography by Philip Pens