English Dillard 110 Section 20643 January 25, 2006 Mabuhay The plane touched down with a thunderous roar as we arrived in Manila, Philippines. The sky is gray and the ground is damp. We entered the Philippines during its rainy season. The moment had arrived; I was finally able to see and experience my background for the first times. Being that I was born and raised in Newport News, Virginia, all I had ever known was "the American way" and only bits and pieces of my Filipino heritage. I had always wanted to know about the Filipino in me. I could never say that I was a Filipino American because I did not know what a Filipino was except for their appearance. My mother and father pushed my brother, sister, and I out of our seats. There was a myriad of Filipinos on the plane trying to get off. Outside the airport a large sign said "Mabuhay." I asked my mother what that meant. She responded, "It means ,,Welcome." It smelt like a new world; there was a hint of spoiled fruit and gasoline. Each of us carried two carry-on bags with us; however, most of our bags did not contain personal belongings. They were comprised of medicine, household supplies, and new clothing for my relatives. I did not understand why we brought these supplies; not until I saw the standard of living my relatives endured. They lived in an area filled with poverty. Hospitals were cold, unsanitary, and always on high demand. The streets were only paved on main routes and in large cities. Along the sides of the roads was filth and blocked up sewers. As we arrived at my fathers parents home, two large white gates opened inviting us to continue down the driveway.
I felt incomplete when my friends would tell me that they visited their grandparents on a regular basis. I wished every weekend I could go to my grandmothers house and eat her home baked cookies. Finally, at eight years old, I was meeting her for the first time. husband Her had died years earlier, so I was only able to visit him at the cemetery. Initially, meeting my family was depressing, but I was proud of their strength to survive in such horrendous living conditions. I helped set up for our reunion that had been planned for several months. It was to take place in an outdoor recreation center of a mini beach resort. Dozens of people arrived, all of whom were part of my mothers family. I felt the unity in the large room; everyone knew everybody and their mother. I envied their knowledge of our distant relatives, for I did not even know the names of my second cousins. I still had to meet more of my relatives being that this reunion was only from my moms side. Later that same week my grandmother held a small get together for her family. My dads brothers were their along with several children around my age. Some of my new playmates spoke broken English in an attempt to communicate with my brother and me. It was enjoyable and educational because it forced me to learn the Philippine language, Tagalog, which I was never able to experience in America. My parents never taught me Tagalog, believing that it would affect my schooling in America. My parents did not know the American names for certain words and so I would attempt to learn the English terms for these words through translation with my schoolmates. My friends would be baffled by the words I was using until I made a gesture or pointed to what I was saying. Afterwards, I would always get the same
response, "Ohhh, you mean...!" Due to my aesthetical and linguistic differences, I was considered to be an unusual individual. After the reunion, I became more proud of my background and learned to embrace it. I was and still am eager to learn more about my heritage and to speak to my peers about my unique background. I am now comfortable knowing who I am and that there is so much more for me to learn.