For as long as she could remember, Liza Bautista had been waking up to the sound of roosters and the rustle of palm leaves in her small town in Batangas. But that morning was different. Instead of the cool breeze of dawn, she was greeted by the dry, hot air of Dubai and the deep hum of the city’s traffic. It was her first day as a housekeeper in a country she had only seen in travel magazines.
Liza had left the Philippines for one reason: her three children’s education. Her husband’s earnings as a tricycle driver barely covered food and bills, and she wanted her kids to finish college without the crushing weight of debt. A recruitment agency had matched her with a wealthy Emirati family, the Al-Faris, who lived in a sprawling villa just outside the city center.
The villa was unlike anything she had seen marble floors that gleamed under the chandeliers, high ceilings, and gold-framed mirrors in every hallway. Her job was clear: keep the home spotless, help in the kitchen, and sometimes assists in setting up gatherings for guests.
The first weeks weeks were exhausting. Dubai’s heat was relentless, and the villa’s size meant hours of sweeping, mopping, and dusting. Every piece of furniture had to shine, every curtain had to be free of wrinkles, and every meal had to be served on time. She also had to adapt to cultural norms modesty in dress, no pork in meals, and respectful silence during prayer times.
One of her biggest challenges was the language barrier. While the family spoke some English, most instructions came in Arabic. Liza started keeping a small notebook where she wrote down words she learned each day: “ma” for water, “shukran” for thank you, “ta ali” for come. Slowly, she began to understand more, and the household staff mostly from other countries helped her along the way.
Her employers, though strict, were fair. Mrs. Al-Faris appreciated Liza’s attention to detail, especially during family gatherings when everything had to be prefect. On Fridays, Liza was allowed to rest for a few hours in the afternoon, and she often used the time to call her children. Hearing their voices, telling about school and friends, made every sore muscle worth it.
Over time, Liza became more than just a housekeeper she became a trusted member of the household. She helped prepare traditional Emirati dishes, learned how to iron the men’s kanduras and the women’s abayas to perfection, and even assisted Mrs. Al-Faris in arranging intricate table settings for Ramadan iftar meals.
Her proudest moment came during Eid, when the family surprised her with a small gold necklace and an envelope with extra money. For your family. Mrs. Al-Faris said simply. Liza cried that night, not from homesickness but from gratitude.
Years later, Liza would send her youngest to college using the savings she earned in Dubai. Her dream was to return home for good and open a small laundry shop, so she could still work but never have to be away from her children again.
As she looked out at the desert from her small room’s window one evening, she thought about how far she had come from the coconut-lined roads of Batangas to the golden sands of Dubai. Her hands might be tired, but her heart carried the strength of a mother who crossed oceans for love.
