Catherine “Cathy” Alvarado stood in the middle of a noisy production line in Hsinchu, Taiwan, her gloved hands moving swiftly as she sorted delicate semiconductor components. Around her, machines buzzed, conveyor belts rolled, and workers in blue uniforms focused on their tasks. For many, it was just another shift. For Cathy, it was survival.
Back home in Iloilo, Cathy had once dreamed of becoming a teacher. She finished two years of college but dropped out when her father suffered a stroke. Her mother, a vendor of banana cue, couldn’t sustain the family’s needs. Cathy, the eldest of four, had no choice. She applied as a factory worker abroad.
Getting to Taiwan wasn’t easy. The paperwork, medical exams, and placement fees drained what little money they had left. But Cathy pushed forward, fueled by the thought of her siblings continuing their education. She arrived in Taiwan at age 26, alone, nervous, but determined.
Her first few weeks at the factory were overwhelming. The work was fast paced, the rules were strict, and her supervisor was blunt and often impatient. Cathy didn’t speak Mandarin, and though she was trained in basic safety and operation procedures, the cultural barrier made everything feel harder. She cried silently in the dormitory more than once, staring at the ceiling, missing home cooked meals and the laughter of her younger siblings.
But Cathy was no stranger to hard work. Slowly, she learned. She picked up Mandarin phrases by watching TV dramas and listening to her Taiwanese coworkers. She joined a local Filipino church community, where she found friends who became her second family. With them, she learned how to budget, cook using local ingredients, and cope with the emotional toll of homesickness.
Two years passed. Cathy was no longer the shy girl who struggled with the machines. She became one of the most efficient workers on the line, earning the trust of her supervisor and even helping train new Filipino hires. She sent money home every month enough to fix their broken roof, pay off their debts, and send her siblings to school. Her youngest sister, Joan, graduated with honors in criminology, something Cathy always shares proudly.
During one video call, her mother said, “Anak, kung hindi dahil sayo, hindi kami aabot dito. Cathy smiled through tears. It was the kind of validation that no paycheck could give.
One day, her supervisor called her in. Cathy was being promoted to line leader a rare opportunity for a foreign worker. The raise wasn’t much, but the respect and recognition meant everything. It reminded her that even in a foreign land, she was capable, resilient, and worthy.
After four years, Cathy returned to Iloilo for a short vacation. She stood outside their newly painted home, now sturdier and brighter than she remembered. Inside, her siblings welcomed her with hugs, home cooked adobo, and stories she had only heard over the phone.
She knew she would return to Taiwan for a few more years, but now, she walked with her head held high. Her hands, once shaking from anxiety, were steady because they had built something real, something lasting.
And though the machines never stopped in Taiwan, neither did her hope.
