The Philippines is an interesting place: centred around a strong indigenous set of cultures that managed to fight off the tripartite colonizations of Spain, Japan and America. Though heavily known for Manila, the provinces were all quite incredible to visit.
It was into one of these provinces – Bohol – that Kayo stepped. He took in the lush greenery and humidity that reminded him of Kerala. Though here on work, Kayo was looking forward to going to Davao in a week to see his partner. Despite the hankering fear of sugar being in all the food, he got ready to enjoy the laid-back yet party-loving culture of the archipelago.
“So your partner is Davaoinian,” the college professor was saying to him as she walked him into the restaurant.
“Yes,” Kayo began but stopped as he felt a large shadow on his back.
Kayo looked behind him and then had to look further up – a very white, tall, gangly man stood there, holding a motorcycle helmet.
“Oh, this is Jerry, my husband,” the professor said.
There was a clear foot and a half difference between the couple, but Kayo took it in a stride since he had met many trans people in his life and gotten used to overcoming shock quickly.
He said hello and began chatting with Jerry about motorcycling, which turned out to be a bit of a love-hate relationship for the latter in the sense that he had had many motorcycle accidents – specifically on his foot.
Over Chinese food Jerry regaled Kayo about 4 accidents that he had had, and also showed him pictures of his foot bones protruding from flesh from the last such mishap.
“So how did you and the Prof meet?” Kayo asked, trying to concentrate on his food and not the yellowish tinge around the bones in the photo.
“Oh we met during university, but the real problems began when it was time to meet the family.”
Kayo nodded in acquiescence.
“They don’t like white people,” Jerry elaborated. The family, seated around the table, all nodded.
“We could not stand him,” agreed Jerry’s mother-in-law, who was also Vice President of the college in Bohol.
Kayo felt that in any other circumstance, the conversation he was in would be rather uncomfortable. However in Philippino culture, it seemed as natural as talking about the weather. He continued eating his orange chicken and Hakka noodles.
It was only later that Kayo’s boss told him how unusual it was that Jerry was sitting at the outside of the table, while everyone else sat towards the other side and inside.
Even during dinner later that day, Jerry was relegated to the far corner of the rectangular table, talking about the two bicycle shops the family gave him to run.
“They thought I was a gold-digger,” Jerry explained about the family’s hostility towards him.
Jerry then took Kayo to the bar the family had given him to run.
“I’m trying to teach Philippinos to appreciate cocktails,” Jerry explained. “They really like drinking alcohol straight here.”
Kayo nodded and sipped his cocktail that Jerry thought he had invented, but was just basically a lychee liqueur martini.
“You know I want to take my wife and kids for holiday in Japan,” Jerry explained after he was done telling one of the staff to use less booze in the drink, “But I’ve invested all my funds into the college resort.”
The investment it turned out was about 15,000USD and this was from his wage, which was paid to him by the family.
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“DM man you have to understand,” Kayo said in the car on the way to shisha in Dubai a few weeks later, “The college president wouldn’t let me walk 6 steps to the car; instead he made Jerry move the car forward before I got in. They treated the man like he was the family’s bitch.”
“Ah man,” DM said, trying to gauge the left turn, “By what it sounds like – the driving you around, 2 stupid cycle shops and the way they make him sit to the side and shut up – he basically is their bitch.”
Rainbow Kandura 