Walking With Overseas Workers

By Beth Sabado

The author is a Columban lay missionary working at the Hope Workers’ Center in Chungli City,Taiwan.

Working in the migrant ministry, I get used to all the ‘hellos’and‘goodbyes’ from migrant workers coming and going. Before leaving, some share their excitement to be home with their family, their anticipation of playing with their children and handing over their mga pasalubong. Others share their worries and fears, what to do when their little savings will all be spent, how to relate to their children, concerned if the kids would still recognize them, how to deal with an unfaithful spouse, how to handle a sick family member. Others promise not to return. But after a while they’re back again.

(R-L) Beth and Fr Peter O’Neill with other social workers 
of the Hope Worker’s Center

Different nationalities, Thais, Vietnamese, Indonesians and Filipinos, gather in the center, especially on Sundays. I work with almost 200 Filipino volunteers, each having a different personality, attitudes, intensity of service and commitment and with varied experiences and struggles.

One of the center’s services is the Reintegration Program, designed by the Asian Migrant Center inHong Kong. As a lay missionary, I work in partnership with Columban Father Peter O’ Neill, the director of the center. We facilitate the formation of savings groups. We organize and give seminars for the workers, teaching them the value of saving money to accumulate capital for future investment. In one of the group sessions I facilitated, I asked the workers how they felt about sending their remittances home. Their answers surprised me: ‘I feel obligated . . . I feel abused . . . I feel pressured . . . I feel it’s my responsibility . . . I feel tired, but . . . I feel disappointed because . . . I feel glad, but . . . I feel scared every time I receive a text message from home because I know what it means . . . I just hold “my” money for a couple of hours when I’m heading to the bank, sigh . . . I feel sad that I don’t really own my money . . .’ and so on. As I listened to their sharing, I heard the men’s voices begin to break and saw the women’s eyes become moist. I felt my heart throbbing.

As I journey with the migrant workers, I hope and pray that they will have a strong sense of their worth and that their families truly appreciate their sacrifices.

You may email the author at bethsablm@yahoo.com or write her at St Columban’s, PO Box 328, HSINCHU30099, TAIWAN