A

21ST CENTURY LITERATURE

 RON DARVIN’S

“ WAITING “
 WRITTEN AS A SPRINGBOARD FOR DISCUSSION OF HOW LONG-TERM SEPARATION
IMPACTS THE LIVES OF MIGRANT FAMILIES, THIS SHORT PLAY WAS FIRST PERFORMED AT
THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA IN VANCOUVER, CANADA IN NOVEMBER 2014. NO
SET IS REQUIRED TO STAGE THIS PLAY. THE TWO CHARACTERS – ISABEL, A FILIPINO
WOMAN IN HER EARLY 40s AND MIGUEL, HER 15 – YEAR OLD SON – FACE THE AUDIENCE
AS THEY RECITE THEIR MONOLOGUES.
Isabel: Mabuhay! My name is Isabel and I’m from the archipelago of 7,107 islands, high tide-7,108 low
tide- The Philippines! I’m 31. Ay I’m just kidding! I’m 41. I just wanted to see if you’ll believe me.
Because you know, my friends, they ask me “Isabel, what’s your secret for looking so young?” and I tell
them, “Hay naku Inday, it’s all about moisturizing! That’s why I use Dove. You know? Because you’re
more beautiful than what you think!”
There are many Doves, but my favorite is Dove Pomegranate. Ay it smells so good! You know in
Manila. I didn’t even know what a pomegranate was. The first time I saw one here in Canada, I
said, Oh my! All those seeds! So hard to eat! That’s why I just put it on my face.
So I’ve been living here for eight year s now. First two years as live-in caregiver for the Choi family. After
staying with the Chois, I got an open work permit so I opened the door of my life. I told myself, “This is
it Isabel! This is your chance to find opportunities!” And you know when I was young, I always said, “ I
want to be on a Broadway!” So I got a job here at Tim Horton’s near the train station…. On Broadway!
 After another two years, I got my permanent residence, and of course I tried to get my family here right
away. But that took another two years. So much paper work! And plane tickets aren’t cheap you know. I
haven’t gone home to Manila for six years… Ay but who cares about that city? They don’t film movies
there like Fifty Shades of Grey – unless you’re talking about pollution! Anyway, last year, my son Miguel…
Miguel moved here to be with me. He’s 15 now. He was barely seven when I left Manila but now he’s
here. My son is here. And after all these years of waiting, this, this is all that matters.
 Miguel: Hey. Sup. Miguel here. Been in Vancouver for over a year. What’s that? Oh yeah,
Vancouver is ok, I guess. Pretty different…. Well, very different. Stuff here is crazy expensive, like a
hundred times more than in Manila. We stay in this basement suite on 43rd and Fraser. Actually, I
don’t know why they call it a ‘suite’ when there’s nothing ‘sweet’ about it. Freezing during winter,
and I can’t play my music because Mr. Rajagopal upstairs complains it’s too loud. It’s nothing like
the place we had in Manila, where we had real windows that overlooked the street. Now the
street overlooks us.
Basta next year, I’m turning 16, and I can’t wait to get a job. I’m gonna get one at Timmies, earn a
shitload of money, and get out of this dump. Yeah, that’s all that matters.
Isabel: Sometimes I wake up in the morning, when it’s still dark outside. I look at the white beams
of the ceiling, and I say to myself, “Where am I? How did I get here?’’ I feel like I’m in that movie
of Leonardo di Caprio. Uhm, what is that? The one where you’re in a dream of a dream?... Ay
alam ko na! I know, I know, Inception!
Then I realize, OMG! The dream is real. I have to get ready for work! So I make breakfast for Miguel and
me. Spam, fried eggs, garlic rice, and lots of banana ketchup. I’m sure you didn’t know you can make
ketchup out of bananas, no? Only in the Philippines! Because you know all the bananas in the world
come from us.
 FYI, banana ketchup is not yellow. It’s red. We make it look like tomato ketchup so that you don’t
think we’re weird. You know in Manila, Spam is not cheap. We only eat it on Sunday, before going
to church. Now I tell my friends back home: You know what, Inday? In Canada, we eat Spam every
day!
After cooking, I shower quickly, and by six, I’m out of the house to get to work. Miguel doesn’t wake
up till eight. Hay naku, actually I don’t know what time that boy goes to bed. I have a second job at a
grocery on Broadway, and I’m there until 10 pm. By the time I get home, Miguel’s in his bedroom
with his headphones on. He always says he’s doing his homework, but I think he’s just watching
videos. But what can I do? Teenagers these days.
 Miguel: I got home after school yesterday, and I was starving. Opened the fridge. Bagels and tuna
salad. And leftover Spam. Ugh, I hate tuna salad. I’m sick of bagels. I want rice. And sinigang. Or
adobo. Or kaldereta. But Inay can only cook these dishes on Sunday, her day off. She’d make a whole
pot, and we’d eat it the whole week. But today is Thursday, and there’s none left. That’s what the tuna
salad is for.
Isabel: Yesterday, I had a really bad episode at work. I had very little sleep the night before because I
did the laundry and there was just so much to wash. Anyways, there was this woman who ordered a
dozen donuts, and I mixed up her order and gave her scones instead. If you ask me, I was doing her a
favor by not giving her those donuts! Really.
Miguel: Couldn’t sleep fast night. It’s exactly a year today since I last saw Itay, my father. I wonder how
he is. If he thinks of me, sometimes. When I was living with my lola, and Inay was here in Canada, my
father worked in Cavite, and 40 kilometers away from my lola’s place. He had a sales job there, and
because traffic is really bad, he rented a room in Cavite, and left me with my lola. He would go see me
on Saturday, and sometimes he’d stay till Sunday.
Isabel: Roberto? I can’t wait for time when my blood doesn’t boil every time I think of that son of a
bitch… Oh I’m sorry! Am I allowed to say that here? But yes, I guess there’s no better way to refer to
him or wait, maybe… uhm
Miguel: I know I really should do my homework, but who cares about that. Even if you don’t get as, you’re
still a winner here in Canada di ba? University is just for rich people anyway.
Isabel: You know, in Shao-ne-ssy, when I was working for the Chois, I got paid 8 dollars and hour. They took out
325 each month for room and board, and that left me with around 900. I would keep 150 to pay for my phone,
my shampoo, and of course, my Dove Pomegranate, and some money for going out on my days off. The rest I
would send home for Miguel’s school and his living expenses.
Miguel: When my mom finally got the family visa for us to come over, we had to wait another year to get
the money ready for our tickets and stuff. Things were kinda ok the couple of months we were here.
Everything was so new and different. Snow. Poutine. Japadog.
Isabel: The moment I saw them at the airport, I ran and I hugged Miguel so tight I think he couldn’t
breathe! I was afraid people would call 911 and report me for child abuse
 Miguel: Things change so much here. The weather, the seasons. One day you’re at your lola’s where it’s
always sunny and you have so much fun, next thing you’re in a city, trapped in a basement, and I just
keeps raining. Your voice changes, your body changes and you feel just like a pancake at IHOP. Your whole
world, flipped upside down.
 Isabel: So of course I took them downtown, and I showed them Gas Town, Yaletown, and my
personal favorite, Metrotown. Everything was new and exciting at first. But then things changed
when Roberto, no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t find a job. He didn’t want to do something like
Tim Hortons. He thought it was beneath him. I’d tell him “But this is how it works here. You need
Canadian experience. “Nakakahiya,” he’d say, we’d always end up fighting.
Miguel: It’s all her fault! Why Itay left. She’s always “Roberto, you have to do this. Roberto, why don’t you
do that. “She’s the same way with me, and she drives me nuts! Miguel, study hard. Do the dishes. Just eat
your tuna salad and stop complaining! In Manila, I never had to do the dishes. Lola would always take me
to school.
 Isabel: Sakripisyo. Sacrifice. This is what it’s all about right? Blessed are the poor for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven. That’s what Father Dela Cruz used to keep on telling us at our parish in Malabon
when I was growing up. I had this image of heaven in my head. Everything was gold – the walls, the
curtains. And there would be food everywhere – and snow! The angels would be flying around, and
we’d all be dressed in white.
Miguel: Sometimes I feel this is when I started remembering things so clearly. That morning Inay left.
Isabel: Soon, anak, soon. I promise you. Life will be better. For you. For both of us. Soon.
Miguel: That time my mother left, when I was seven, “soon” became days, weeks, months. At seven, I
realized a very painful truth: my mother had abandoned me. And as the years went by, and her image
began to fade. I could no longer remember what it was like. The way she touched my cheeks. The feel
of her hands.
Isabel: [ Faces Miguel ] Just wait anak. Soon everything will be all right.
Miguel: [ Faces Isabel ] Inay, all these years I’ve been waiting. Tell me, please tell me, when does soon
begin.