The midday sun in Doha was relentless, but Rodel Manalo barely noticed anymore. Standing on a steel platform several meters above the ground, helmet strapped tight, gloves worn thin, he worked with a focus only years of determination could forge. For Rodel, scaffolding wasn’t just about steel poles and bolts it was about building bridges, not just for skyscrapers, but between dreams and reality.
Rodel grew up in Tarlac, in a small barangay where most men worked in construction or farming. His father had been a carpenter, his mother a seamstress. Money was always tight, and after high school, college was a dream too far from reach. At 19, he started working in local construction sites, learning to climb, measure, and secure structures under the hot Philippine sun.
But local work meant unstable pay, sometimes delayed, sometimes not coming at all. His two younger brothers were still in school, and his parents health was beginning to falter. The opportunity to work in Qatar as a scaffolder came like an unexpected sunrise. It meant a stable income, though it also meant leaving his family for the first time.
The first months abroad were the hardest. Language barriers, unfamiliar food, strict work schedules, and a dormitory packed with men from different countries it was overwhelming. But Rodel adapted quickly. He learned bits of Arabic to communicate with his Qatari supervisors, shared home-cooked adobo with Indian and Nepali coworkers, and discovered the quiet comfort of phone calls back home, even if they lasted only a few minutes.
Work as a scaffolder in Qatar was not for the faint-hearted. The job demanded physical strength, precision, and unwavering attention to safety. One wrong move could mean injury or worse. Rodel took the role seriously, checking every joint, securing every plank, and never cutting corners. His discipline earned him the trust of his foreman, and soon he was assigned to supervise small teams for high-rise projects.
Despite the heat and long hours, Rodel found pride in seeing the skeletons of buildings slowly turn into landmarks. He would take photos from the top of scaffolds not of himself, but of the horizon and send them to his family with the caption: “Para sa inyo ito (This is for you).
His sacrifices bore fruit. Back in Tarlac, his brothers finished school one became a mechanic, the other a nurse. He sent money to renovate their small nipa house into a concrete home, sturdy enough to withstand storms. He even managed to buy a small piece of farmland for his parents to tend to in their retirement.
After nearly eight years abroad, Rodel returned home for good. The skills he gained overseas helped him start a local construction service, hiring out scaffolding teams for projects in nearby towns. Many of his workers were young men who once thought the only option was to leave the country until Rodel showed them that sometimes, you can build your future right where you stand.
Looking back, Rodel realized that while his hands built structures in Qatar, his heart was always building something far more important in the Philippines: stability, hope, and a future for the people he loved most.
