Liza Manalo grew up in a small barangay in Batangas where life revolved around the coconut fields and the sea. Her family lived modestly, relying on her father’s occasional fishing trips and her mother’s sari-sari store. Being the eldest of four, Liza carried a quiet sense of responsibility. When two of her siblings reached college age, she realized her parents income would never be enough to cover tuition fees. With a heavy but determined heart, she decided to work abroad as a domestic helper in Hong Kong.
Leaving her family was the hardest part. On the morning of her departure, her youngest sister clung to her, crying, Ate, don’t leave us. Liza hugged her tightly and whispered, I’ll come back soon. This is for all of us. She boarded the plane with her heart torn, yet filled with hope.
Her first months in Hong Kong were a mixture of challenges and adjustments. She was tasked with cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, and caring for two young children in a household that was strict but fair. The language barrier was intimidating at first her employer spoke in quick Cantonese, and Liza could only catch fragments of meaning. She often relied on gestures and smiles, but she studied hard, memorizing words each night after her chores.
Despite the struggles, Liza found small joys. The children she cared for grew fond of her, calling her Ayi, which meant auntie. Slowly, she became more than just an employee; she became a part of their daily lives. She taught them Tagalog songs, and in return, they taught her simple Cantonese phrases.
Back home, Liza’s remittances allowed her siblings to continue their studies. Her brother took up engineering, while her sister pursued nursing. Every payday, she would line up at the remittances center, her tired body soothed by the thought that her family’s future was becoming brighter.
Still, loneliness often crept in. During Christmas, she would scroll through photos her family sent, showing them celebrating together while she was miles away. Sometimes she cried quietly in her small room, holding on to the rosary her mother gave her. But she never allowed despair to consume her; instead, she left it fuel her resolve to keep going.
One of her proudest moments came when her sister graduated as a nurse. During the video call, her family held up a tarpaulin with the words Congratulations, thanks to Ate Liza! She wept with joy, knowing her sacrifices were paying off.
After several years, Liza returned home for a short vacation. The sari-sari store had grown into a small grocery business, her siblings had steady jobs, and her parents looked healthier. The house, once made of bamboo walls, now stood sturdier with concrete, thanks to her hard earned savings.
Her neighbors often told her, Liza, you are the pride of our community. But she would simply smile. She knew her story wasn’t about pride it was about love, sacrifices, and the quiet strength of someone willing to endure hardships for the people who mattered most.
In the end, Liza realized she wasn’t just a domestic helper in Hong Kong. She was a builder of dreams, a silent strength that carried her family forward, and a reminder that true success often comes from sacrifices, humility, and love.
