My Nanay is not important

My mother knows she is not important.  Growing up in a large patriarchal family where his two male brothers, especially his eldest Manong, get the most attention and resource allocation, my mother learned early on that whatever she thought she needed, can wait. 

She had to stop her studies because her elder siblings’ education required the money that must be spent on hers.  And when she finally got the chance to go to college, she had to make do with a few blouses and a pair of underwear which she alternately used.

She did not have the luxury of an extra penny, let alone money to buy her a decent meal.  All the allowances go to his Manong, whom she also served like a dutiful servant.  Despite her situation, my Nanay persevered and graduated with a degree in Mathematics; by then she was already ahead in years of her batchmates.

My Nanay gravitated to a job that put others first before herself.  She became a teacher.  Though she was earning a little money, it was not for her because her whims were not important.  Her younger sister, Amanda, was still in school and she wanted to help her with her schooling needs until she finished nursing.

By the time my mother found the time for herself, she was already in her 30s.  That was when she met my Tatay, a soldier.  So she started a family and another chapter of being unimportant.

Nanay and Tatay begot six children, all boys.  Raising six boys is no joke and Nanay certainly wasn’t laughing.  It did not help that Tatay, though a loyal husband and a loving father, was an alcoholic who spent a large part of his pay check on booze.

I don’t recall ever seeing my Nanay treating herself to a new dress; whatever she wore she sewn.  She was not important enough to buy something from the store.  But we always stayed in school, yes with the smallest of allowances and the barest of things, but we were in school – that was important for her.

I did not grow up in a family that was comfortable with showing emotions.  My Nanay considered it was not important that she show her vulnerable side.  She needed to be strong for us and not show any sign that she was ready to give up on our future.  She complained a lot about how tired she was but she always woke up earliest every morning to prepare breakfast and our meager packed lunch – this even if Tatay arrived at 3 in the morning, mad drunk.

She did not rest even during summer breaks.  She did not want to recharge her energy for the next school year.  She was much too unimportant for that.  My elder brothers were going one after the other to college and she needed the summer break to make money to send us all to school.  So she taught summer classes, on top of moonlighting as a surveyor for a research group and tutoring weak students after class.

When money was not enough, which was always the case, Nanay would swallow her pride and go to her friends to borrow some with the promise that she would return it on a particular date, which she always kept.

One by one, my elder brothers finished college and found work but Nanay refused to stop working.  She did not dream to see three children finish school, but it was her mission to see six.

When at last Nanay fulfilled her covenant to her children, you would think that she would have reason to celebrate herself.  She did not.  There was always something more important than her, and they were coming out one after the other – grandchildren.

You discover people’s values by the things that they hold dear, and the things that make them happy.  Nanay showed that it is neither the self nor anything material that would make her truly happy.  It is me.  It is my brothers.  It is her family.

 For showing me what selfless love is, my Nanay is the most important woman in my life.