A Global Nanny's Story Sampang, author of 'Maid in Singapore' The Philippines exports caregivers, stripping its own families of mothers. Crisanta Sampang knows the cost. ByDeborah Campbell Published: March 28, 2006 print email share digg del.ico.us facebook stumbleupon reddit TheTyee.ca "It's a small world...but not if you have to clean it."

Artist Barbara Kruger appended this pithy caption to a photo of a 1950's housewife wielding a magnifying glass. Well, goodbye to all that. Yesterday's (truly) desperate housewife, suffocating under a mountain of laundry and suburban ennui, is today's manic working mother, striving to balance home and family obligations without falling off the corporate ladder. Yet, to turn the magnifying glass on millions of homes in prosperous nations is to discover something rather more unsettling than expanding colonies of dust bunnies or rings around the toilet bowl. The world has indeed become smaller, but the ones cleaning up after it are, increasingly, millions of poor women who have left behind their homes and families in far-off lands to care for ours.

What prompted me to look more closely at a phenomenon so vast and unprecedented that it now strikes me as shocking never to have seen it addressed in any editorial on globalization was a slim, new book by Vancouver-based writer Crisanta Sampang. Sampang was born in the Philippines and worked as a nanny/housekeeper in Singapore from 1984-88, before immigrating to Canada to take a similar job. In Maid in Singapore, she writes that hers "is a story not of one person, but of countless others like me, who had left both hearth and home in the hope of finding a better life abroad." Like a million Filipinos a year, 70 percent of them women, she saw migrant work as her ticket out of poverty. What she left behind remained a secret for more than twenty years.

'Love' for hire

On a recent sunny afternoon, I join Sampang at a Filipino restaurant on the west side of Vancouver. It's the weekend and the direct-to-the-Philippines courier service across the street is crammed with women sending home the remittances that sustain their families. With more than eight million citizens working abroad, some ten percent of the population, foreign remittances are the Philippines' largest source of income, bringing in upwards of US$8 billion a year. Through nannies, housekeepers, nurses and home support workers, the country's primary export is something rarely identified as a global commodity: care.

In Global Woman: Nannies, Maids and Sex Workers in the New Economy, co-editors Barbara Ehrenreich and Arlie Russell Hochschild sum up the "feminization of migration" in startling terms. "The lifestyles of the First World are made possible by a global transfer of the services associated with a wife's traditional role-child care, homemaking and sex-from poor countries to rich ones...Today, while still relying on Third World countries for agricultural and industrial labor, the wealthy countries also seek to extract something harder to measure and quantify, something that can look very much like love."

They offer a theory on the way modern life-workaholic, narcissistic, cut off from the obligations and supports of community-is affecting the emotional landscape. "It's as if the wealthy parts of the world are running short on precious emotional and sexual resources and have had to turn to poorer regions for fresh supplies."

ADVERTISEMENT The restaurant where I meet Sampang is full of nannies and former nannies, but she may be the first of their lot to publish a memoir. "It's a niche subject and no real domestic worker has written on it except The Nanny Diaries," says the very petite Sampang. She suspects the nanny diarists were fakes. They write in "this gossipy American way," she says, "looking down on their employers. I didn't look up to my employers, but I didn't think I was better, either."

On the rare occasion that magazines like Vogue write about the hidden world of domestic workers, it is inevitably from the employers' point of view: the secret jealousies of an ambitious Gucci-clad mother confronted by a nanny who bonds more closely to the children than either of the parents do (and, even more galling, may be younger and thinner than she). Or it's in the form of deliciously scandalous novels like the bestselling Diaries, wherein the caretaker (a graduate student on her way up and out, since no one would stay in such a job) exposes the comically dysfunctional lives of Manhattan's über-rich. Sampang's memoir is about as far from that perspective as Vancouver is from her rural farming village.

Her story begins with the suicide of Imelda, a desperate 23-year-old Filipina domestic who had lost her job. Imelda's parents had borrowed money to pay an agency to bring her to Singapore; if she was unsuccessful they could lose their farm. Imelda's suicide-later echoed by the suicide of a Filipina domestic working in Canada-is the most extreme response to a situation characterized, Sampang writes, by "isolation and lack of emotional support."

A long held secret

Though it begins on a tragic note, Sampang's account of the profession is largely positive, even light-hearted. She describes the employers who warmly welcomed her into their family and didn't object when she began writing about them in features for the Straits Times, her first foray into writing. She chronicles the way other domestics found love in the arms of migrant construction workers (or in one another's), touching briefly on the consequences for marriages back home.

Smart, attractive and confident, Sampang flourished in Singapore and Canada. She was not among the abused, the runaways, or the victims of sexual assault-fates that prey upon the particular vulnerabilities of workers in private homes. "I was living in a bubble with good employers, good people," she says. "And I didn't have much experience with abused nannies. But I heard things."

What she heard ran the gamut from those who didn't get time off to those that didn't get enough to eat. "I heard stories that their dogs were better fed than the domestic." In Canada, where many Filipinas who arrive under the federal Live-In Caregiver Program and have university degrees, there are reports of 16-hour works days, withheld pay, the subcontracting of their services, physical and sexual abuse, even forced captivity. Many keep silent for fear of losing their jobs.

At the table next to us, a Filipina toddler in a pink jumpsuit samples from her mother's plate. Watching the little girl, I am reminded of Sampang's secret. By the time she left the Philippines in 1984, she had separated from her alcoholic husband and was struggling to support three daughters; aged seven, five, and two. Desperate to find work abroad, she did not declare her children. Later, when the opportunity arose to go to Canada-where the Live-In Caregiver Program allows domestic workers to apply for citizenship after two years-she did the same. After all, a domestic worker in Canada makes about the same per month that the average Filipino earns in a year-roughly $1000 US.

It was not until her book was published in Singapore last fall-hitting the Singapore Times bestseller list within two weeks-that her partner of ten years, writer Daniel Wood, read it and learned of the children. "He was blindsided," she says. But he understood her reasons. "It has made us closer. It was a great relief because now I can talk about my children."

This, then, is the hidden cost of the global trade in mothering-a cost that has become, in the words of Berkeley sociologist Arlie Russell Hochschild, a "dark child's burden." An estimated 30 percent of Filipino children, some 8 million, live in households where at least one parent works abroad. In three Asian countries-the Philippines, Indonesia and Sri Lanka-women are the majority of migrant workers and most are mothers.

'Working for everyone'

"My children 'understand,'" says Sampang, curling her fingers into quotation marks, "but it's still not good enough. I thought they would be better off growing up with my mother, but apparently not." The middle daughter dropped out of college at eighteen to marry a merchant marine after becoming pregnant. "I asked her why she got married so young," says Sampang. "She cried and said there was a hole in her life that cannot be filled. Now she is married and has a family to fill the hole."

The effect of migration on families is a "two-edged sword," Sampang says. Working abroad enabled her to buy her mother a house and property and send one of each of her brothers' children to college with the understanding that they will help their siblings. "A Filipino nanny is not working for herself only, she's working for everyone, first and foremost her children, then other family members."

But children who grow up with absentee parents show higher delinquency rates and often experience "reunification issues" after years of living apart. A cultural upheaval has taken place as parents compensate for their absence with money and gifts. "In the Philippines, every teenager has a cell phone, an iPod," says Sampang. "Everyone wants the latest fashion. It's become a western culture of materialism, as if the local is not good enough."

She sees an ingrained "colonial mentality" extending back to the Spanish and American occupations of the Philippines; a mentality that says "white skin is better," in which "everyone wants to leave." It is as if centuries of dependence on wealthier nations have created a crisis of faith in their own culture and country. A survey of children of Filipino migrant workers found that 60 percent want to leave. "They leave because they think life is better outside-and life is better," says Sampang. "There is so much poverty."

Sampang has made a good life for herself, working in television and film, exploring options that would have been unthinkable back home. Like most female migrant workers, she has settled abroad, visiting the Philippines for several weeks a year. Her, and the millions like her, epitomize the adaptable workforce praised by free market economists. They have made tough decisions that may just be their best options in the global economy.

Migrant work, dictators' debt

But why are these women forced to make such wrenching decisions, essentially abandoning their families in order to save them? What creates the conditions that compel them to leave?

The disturbing answer is that entire countries have become dependent on the incomes of migrant workers in order to service the foreign debts owed to international lenders like the International Monetary Fund and World Bank. These loans have, to a remarkable degree, been handed to corrupt leaders with few or no controls. It would almost appear that the lenders crave the kind of power these massive debts afford them, from lucrative interest payments to the ability to dictate economic and social policy.

The term "crony capitalism" was first coined to describe Philippines dictator Ferdinand Marcos, who counted among his personal friends Ronald Reagan and George Bush Sr. In 1972, Marcos pronounced martial law; two years later he enacted the first government policies in support of overseas migrant work. Such policies have since evolved from a stop-gap measure to a permanent economic survival strategy.

Between 1980 and 1999, the Philippines received nine structural adjustment loans from the World Bank. By the time Marcos went into exile in Hawaii following a people's revolution in 1986, half of the government's annual budget was earmarked to service foreign debt. And what did these debts accomplish?

The largest single debt of the Philippines is the Bataan nuclear power station. Constructed for more than $2 billion (all amounts in US dollars) on a fault line at the foot of an active volcano, it was completed in the mid-'80s but never opened due to safety concerns. The plant was built by US multinational Westinghouse, which allegedly paid $80 million in kickbacks to the Marcos government (and which built a similar plant in South Korea for a third the cost). Though Westinghouse eventually paid the Philippines government $100 million to drop charges of fraud, Filipino taxpayers still pay $155,000 a day in interest on the plant. The debt will not be repaid until 2018.

"We are not asking for debt forgiveness; we are asking for justice. We are asking the creditors to repent and debt cancellation would be a symbol of that repentance," said Archbishop Alberto Ramento of the Philippine Independent Church, in an interview in 1998. The IMF and World Bank, he said, had given loans to the Marcos regime despite knowledge of its corruption. "We are paying for the shoes of Imelda Marcos," he said.

A 'war' for dignity

Structural readjustment loans have required governments like the Philippines to cut funding to education, health and social services, exacerbating poverty and perpetuating the export of labour. Yet, the influx of foreign capital has not been used for development that might create the kind of society where women like Crisanta Sampang and her daughters can achieve their potential. Education has become focused on exportable skills, with doctors studying to be nurses in order to emigrate. Debt payments now account for nearly 70 percent of the Philippines' government expenditures. Spending on social services shrank from 35 percent of the budget in 2000 to 23 percent in 2004, sowing the seeds for greater social instability and extremism-and, of course, more migration.

The same factors lurk behind the growth of sex tourism-another form of "women's work," one with a long history linked to the American military presence in the Philippines. A friend who worked for an American high-tech company located at Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines described the peeler bars and brothels that have sprung up around it to service US troops. One of his colleagues, an overweight middle-manager in his fifties, had found several Filipina "girlfriends" there, some as young as fourteen.

"Developing countries are fighting a war," said Archbishop Ramento. "We are fighting to live with dignity and we cannot win this war because we do not have the power to win it on the streets of Manila alone. But it can be won in the streets of London and Washington by those who have the power."

The kitchens and cradles of suburbia can seem a long way from the slums and brothels of the Third World, but they are linked by economic policies with far-reaching consequences. Somebody's mother, so attentive to the needs of her employers, listens to the voices of her children through the crackle of a long-distance connection. She notes how they have grown and changed, how they have become, through years of separation, almost strangers. Then she hangs up the phone as another voice, someone else's child or parent, calls her name.

Vancouver writer Deborah Campbell is the author of This Heated Place.

Join Crisanta Sampang and hear her story at the Canadian launch of Maid in Singapore on Thursday, March 30, 2006, at Fireside Books, 2652 Arbutus Street in Vancouver, from 7 to 9 PM.

It just doesn't seem worth it, unless you're in it for pure entertainment.

As newspapers and media outlets continue to report on the Ruby Dhalla and the Oliphant Inquiry, it becomes more and more apparent that public inquiries and investigations are often times nothing more than long drawn out comedies or verbal wrestling matches that sees no one win and the tax payer come out as the lone loser. They are entertaining, certainly, and while Mulroney might very well be guilty of some shady business dealings, boy did he have it right when he told reporters last week that in the end all the inquiry will do is cost the tax payers of Canada big time. No truth will be gained and money will be lost.

The basic facts of the two cases are simple enough. What faces Ruby Dhalla, the Liberal MP from Brampton, are charges that she employed illegal immigrant caregivers and that these former employees were demeaned in numerous way such as having to sit on the floor while in the same room as the Dhalla family and having to shovel snow and shine shoes, something they said they didn't sign up for. Throughout the Oliphant Commission, former Prime Minister Brain Mulroney's credibility continues to hang in the balance as more information is revealed about his business dealing with German businessman Karlenheiz Schreiber.

Canadians whose perception of Mulroney as an opportunistic Prime Minister will find little that redeems the former Prime Minister..

On the other hand, supporters of Mulroney will argue how well he stood up to cross-examination; he hardly flinched and this they say attests to his credibility.

Opponents of Ruby Dally are surely salivating at her demise, while her supporters claim it is just a smear campaign.

But has all of this- the testimony, the news articles or the commentary- really provided Canadians with anything substantial to walk away with? Has it led them closer to the truth?

The media's decade and half long investigation on Mulroney has concluded little more than that the media doesn't fancy the former prime-minister. Despite what some might believe is hard evidence, no charges have been filed against Dhalla. In both the Dhalla affair and Oliphant Commision, Canadians have been subjected to the constant 'he said she said' scenarios. In the absence of being the flies on the wall, it is next to impossible to see who is telling the truth.

The fact of the matter remains; regardless of how in touch a person thinks they are with those who walk in the corridors of power, truth in Ottawa is only known by those who play the game, and at the same time, this game is something the public will never let those who play it walk away from. Ruby Dhalla is getting her first taste of the big leagues. Twenty-six years after the man took control of the country, journalist, report on him, columnist rip in to him and we the taxpayers pay to watch. For them: a game. For us: a form of entertainment..

It would, however, be nice to be that fly on the wall.

Ruby Dhalla Claims She's Innocent And Being Targeted By An Organized Attack On Her Family Friday May 8, 2009 CityNews.ca Staff They're "false" and "unsubstantiated."Ruby Dhalla not only denies the charges being leveled against her, she wants to prove it to you, as well. The beleaguered Liberal MP who has been under fire for an alleged scandal involving the exploitation of three domestic workers, has asked the Ethics Commissioner to probe the ever expanding allegations against her. That was the gist of the Brampton politician's long awaited response to charges she forced a trio of immigrants caring for her mother to work for little money and toil for long hours doing menial chores with no real reward.

But Dhalla insists she won't take the claims lying down, with her lawyer saying outright that someone is out to target her and her family. "The allegations that have been brought forward against myself have come as a big shock," she maintains. "And have been devastating to both myself and my family, friends, and supporters. As a Member of Parliament, I am accountable to my constituents and to Canadians. It is in that spirit that I personally requested a third party review of the facts for these matters to take place by the Ethics Commissioner." Dhalla says the charges leveled at her are especially hurtful, given her past. "I amthe daughter of a loving, caring and single mother, an immigrant herself... I, myself, have dedicated a great part of my own personal life to working on these issues and championing issues that are important to immigrants, to women, and to families." Her lawyer contends he welcomes the idea of a full probe that will subject her accusers to the laws of perjury.

Howard Levittcalls her "punctilious" in her affairs, noting she has documents that disprove all the allegations against her. And he hopes the coming investigationwill remove all doubt. "It's easy to make allegations. It's easy to repeat allegations," he states. "But the allegations are absolute nonsense." Three women from the Philippines say they were exploited by the Liberal MP, who has already had to resign as the opposition multiculturalism critic over the affair. Among the allegations: that she made them clean her brother's chiropractic office, shovel the snow on her mother's driveway, scrub the floors, wash the cars andpolish her shoes during days that lasted 12-14 hours for almost no pay. And in what may be the most serious accusation, one of the women maintains Dhalla took her passport, an act that's against the law. But Levitt insists he has receipts, copies of airport tickets and records that disprove all the charges, adding that it was other family members who took care of that sort of thing and that Dhalla wasn't even in the province on many of the occasions when they were supposed to have happened.

He pointed to the snow clearing story as an example. "I obtained this witness statement yesterday from the person who actually did and has been doing it for five years and he says for the past five years he [has been] ... shovelling, [using] the snow blower, and he has never at any time in those five years seen any indication that anyone else shoveled snow prior to his arrival." As for the passport seizure? Levitt held up what he said was a statement from one of the nannies, showing she willingly handed over the document to Dhalla's brother. "I gave my passport to Dr. Neil Dhalla to apply for sponsorship, with my wishes," he claims it reads.

He wonders why it took 15 months for such a serious allegation to surface. Levitt also attacked the press for reporting the MP as the employer, when she wasn't in that position at all. "I know for your purposes, it's a lot more fun, a lot more of a rush, and a lot more of a news story to name her as the employer, when you know it's not true. It's totally unfair." There are also questions being asked about whether the women had the proper permits to actually work in Ontario.

But despite intense questioning from reporters andgiving specifics on all the other details of this case, Levitt repeatedly failed to address the issue. So who would want to target Dhalla and her family? The lawyer, who did most of the talking at the press conference held at his client's Brampton office, contends that's the key question. "Why people would want to undermine and ultimately damage the career of somebody who is bright, done good work, and becoming, responsible, impeccably reputationed up till now? I can only speculate as you can. I don't have an answer." See the entire unedited press conference below. For now, Dhalla is asking that the public not to make up its mind until all the facts are in.

"Please hold judgment and give my familyprivacy, as we go through this due process, as the facts and the truth come to light." She claims she's received thousands of calls of support from around the country and thinks most Canadians are solidly behind her. She concludes the last four days have been difficult for her family, and that they're all in a "state of shock" over the charges.

"When the facts and the truth comes out, [it]will ensure that I ... had no involvement in this issue." Mixed reaction greets Dhalla's defence Previous Ruby Dhalla controversies