Lourdes “Lorie” Ramos never imagined she would one day be working in the Middle East. At 41, she had spent most of her life in a quiet town in Quezon Province, raising her two children while her husband worked as a tricycle driver. But when her husband’s income could no longer cover the growing needs of their teenagers school fees, allowances, and medical bills for her aging father she made the painful decision to work abroad.
Through a recruitment agency, she was deployed to Riyadh as a housekeeper for the Al-Hassan Family. The house was nothing like the small nipa she left behind it was a sprawling villa with marble floors, tall gates, and countless rooms that needed constant upkeep. Lorie felt intimated at first, not just by the size of the house but also by the cultural differences she was about to face.
Her daily routine started before sunrise. She swept and mopped the floors, polished the wooden furniture, washed clothes, and helped in the kitchen. The family employed a cook, but Lorie assisted with preparation and cleaned afterward. She also took care of the younger children ensuring they were bathed, dressed, and ready for school. The work was demanding, and by the end of each day her body ached, but she endured.
The strict household rules took some time to adjust to. She had to wear modest clothing at all times, avoid using her phone during working hours, and follow a set schedule. Though the family treated her fairly, there were moments when loneliness crept in. She missed the sound of her children’s laughter, her husband’s jokes, and the warm chaos of home. The call to prayer from the nearby mosque reminded her that she was thousands of kilometers away from everything familiar.
Despite the isolation, there were bright moments. The children, especially the youngest daughter, Layla, grew fond of her. Lorie often braided her hair and told her Filipino folk tales, which the little girl loved. One evening, when Layla hugged her tightly and said, “You are like family,” Lorie’s eyes welled with tears. For a moment, the heavy burden of homesickness lightened.
Every month, Lorie sent almost her entire salary back home. Her remittances went to her children’s schooling and her father’s medicines. She kept little for herself, sometimes only enough to buy simple toiletries or a small treat at the grocery. The thought of her children finishing school kept her motivated.
On her rest days, which were rare, she sometimes joined other Filipino workers at the nearby church compound. There, she felt a sense of belonging again, sharing stories, singing hymns, and comforting one another about the struggles they faced. Those gatherings reminded her that she was not alone in her sacrifices.
After two years, Lorie renewed her contract. It wasn’t an easy choice, but ty then, her eldest child was preparing for college. The dream of seeing her children wear graduation gowns gave her strength to continue.
One night, as she folded laundry in the quiet villa, Lorie whispered to herself: This is not forever. Someday, I will go home for good. She knew that her time abroad wasn’t just about keeping someone else’s house spotless it was about building a foundation for her own family’s future.
