Maria in Manila is like thousands of other migrants who must leave their families and countries to find jobs.
By Amy Woolam-Echeverria

Columban Father Enrique Escobar and I walked through the urban squatter area known as Malate in Manila, the capital of the Philippines, where he lives and ministers to the people.

There were people everywhere: they sat in front of their homes talking, cooking, washing clothes, children playing nearby. Sounds like normal city life.

This scene is typical in the Malate squatter area in Manila where families live in tightly packed homes with a walkway used for commerce, socializing and household chores.

The glaring difference, of course, was the extreme poverty. The narrow alleys required walking single file. Electrical wires dangled precariously overhead. Running water was a luxury for a few. High unemployment was evidenced by the many men talking among themselves rather than working.

I'm not sure of the exact numbers, but easily this squatter area was home to close to 10,000 people, a small city onto itself. In sprawling, massive Metro Manila (home to more than 15 million people) there are countless squatter areas just like this one.

As Fr. Enrique and I walked the alleys during my 2005 visit, we were greeted spiritedly by many people who recognized the priest. But one woman's story stayed with me the most. I'll call her Maria.

Maria stopped us and asked for a blessing. She explained that at midnight that very day, she was to depart for the Middle East for three years. She hoped to be employed as a domestic worker. She said that this was her fourth time looking for work abroad. She had already been to Hong Kong twice and Taiwan once-about 12 years away from her family.

As Maria spoke, I noticed the small children who played by her feet. Were they her children or maybe even grandchildren? Perhaps they were nieces and nephews. Or even her neighbor's children. It really doesn't matter. Clearly there was a shared love and affection.

I wondered if the children knew that in a few short hours their dear Maria would be gone, not to be seen again for three or four years.

After a short prayer and final well-wishes, we left Maria, the children and her family. But Maria stayed with me all that day. She stays with me today.

Assuming everything has gone as planned, Maria has been in the Middle East for close to two years.

I wonder if she found work and if she sent money home to her family as she had hoped. I wonder if the sacrifice she made was worth the separation. Can we imagine a world in which Maria isn't forced with such a painful decision?

Sadly, Maria's reality is shared by millions of people in all parts of the world. International migration is at an all-time high because companies need workers and the workers need these jobs. Usually, debates about migration often focus on the migrants themselves and their countries of destination. Little attention is paid to the families and communities left behind by the migrant.

Yet we know that, like Maria, for every migrant that makes the journey abroad, there are a family and community that await the migrant's return.

Evolving Family Dynamics
Family and social dynamics change when migrants are separated from families. Gender roles are a chief example. In countries where most migrants are men, women have increasingly taken on the role of primary income earners and heads of household. They assume greater leadership responsibilities in their communities. For many men, this shift can threaten their masculinity, creating tensions and, often, divorce.

On the other hand, women in ever-greater numbers are leaving their families and communities to find economic opportunity to provide for their families. This often means leaving small children or elderly parents at home.

In male-dominant cultures, the men who stay behind often are unprepared or unwilling to assume the women's care-taking roles. In these cases, the extended family and community play a greater role. Often, older children are forced to leave school to work or care for their younger siblings.

It is easy to imagine how the breakdown in the fabric of a community can result from extended periods of migration.

I wonder how Maria is doing and when she will come home. But most importantly, I wonder when Maria and countless others must no longer decide to migrate for work while leaving behind family or staying home but with no financial security.

I am reminded of the Biblical passage Matthew 8:20 when Jesus says, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay His head."

Does not Maria deserve a place to lay her head in peace?

Amy Woolam-Echeverria is the Columban Society's Justice, Peace and Integrity of Creation (JPIC) Office coordinator in Washington D.C. The JPIC website is www.columban.org/jpic.