Domestic workers, a godsend for Hong Kong women

If you go the Central (district) or Causeway Bay area of Hong Kong on weekends and public holidays, you will find masses of female (and some male) domestic workers gathering in parks, on designated pedestrian walkways, in the courtyards of huge commercial complexes and along the walkways of overhead pedestrian bridges. It is quite an amazing sight, and it forces you to realize the magnitude of Hong Kong’s foreign domestic workforce.

People grumble about all these spaces being occupied by immigrant workers because they, themselves, can no longer use them. Those who grumble have probably forgotten one very important fact: These domestic workers have freed the women of Hong Kong from the burden of being the main caregiver in their household.

The majority of domestic workers in Hong Kong are Filipinos, with an increasing proportion coming from Indonesia. Those from Indonesia are becoming more popular, as many of them can speak Cantonese, the local dialect, while those from the Philippines speak only English. A small proportion of the workers come from Thailand. While writing this , I learned from Wikipedia that foreign domestic workers make up approximately 3 percent of the local population. There were 284,901 of them in 2010.

We have been hiring domestic workers since the late 1970s. As I recall, they were initially hired to take care of babies and children in a family. In more recent years, many of them are being hired to look after seniors. Historically, women have been the main caregivers in society, and this is still the case. Women are expected to provide care to those in need within a family. For better or worse, domestic workers have set us free. For many, to support a family, both husband and wife need to work. Given the disappearance of large, extended families, the woman of the family often needs help if she is to work outside the home.

After having babies, Hong Kong women go back to work more frequently than women in Western countries. It is rather uncommon for local women to give up careers to stay home and raise their kids. The advantage may be more secure income for the family. The down side is that working parents sometimes over-compensate for lack of time spent with their children by spoiling them. Some of my friends and acquaintances may be highly educated, but they indulge their children just the same. To mitigate the guilty feelings they have for not spending enough time with their kids, they buy expensive toys and gifts, or allow poor choices of foods and games.

There may be many problems associated with having a domestic worker to help us run a home, but I still think that it is great for women in Hong Kong to have this option. A Hong Kong woman can live her life the way she wants. She can raise her kids at home but, if she chooses to have a career, she can hire a domestic worker.

Back to where I started—I think we shouldn’t grumble. We should be appreciative of foreign domester workers’ contribution to Hong Kong.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

I love TV!

Television, “human’s best friend”—from the movie “Son of the Mask”—is the symbol of idleness. A person who sits all day in front of the TV is a “couch potato,” lazy, sloppy and lacking in imagination and creativity.

But I do love TV. I love drama, and easily identify with the emotions of people portrayed in a dramatic series. Nowadays, when there is so much “reality TV” around, it is easy to get carried away and feel as if you have participated. There are many interesting stories in these shows: the rich guy who bravely takes to the streets and tries out life as a homeless person for a few days; a man or woman with a regular job in metropolitan London who briefly gives up all creature comforts and lives a tribal life in a remote part of the world. “The Deadliest Catch” helps me appreciate why king crabs are so expensive when they finally arrive on our plates.

I don’t necessarily agree with what these people do. For example, what right do these people from “civilization” have to intrude into the world of these tribes? But listening to the story of a young rich kid who became homeless made me more mindful of how I relate to and interact with homeless people.

TV provides free entertainment and, if you choose wisely, offers great entertainment. How else would I learn so much about the world of reptiles, wildlife rescues and the intelligence of the octopus, if not from “Animal Planet”? How else would we learn what to do in the “Worst Scenario” and what myths to debunk if not for the Discovery Channel?

TV is our connection to the world. I remember reading an article describing how some seniors who were not very mobile and had to stay indoors a lot had a kind of control center set up around them. They would sit in their most comfortable chair in the living room, with the TV in front of them and a remote control by their side. The telephone was also within arm’s reach. The way they were positioned, they could also see whatever was going on outside their living room window. I found this most interesting, and think maybe I will do the same when I am old.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Immediate versus delayed gratification

When I was small, new clothes or new toys were only for special occasions, such as the New Year. So whenever my mom or big sister bought us a new dress, it had to be saved until the New Year before we could wear it. We were so excited and anticipation mounted as the time drew near. We were on Cloud Nine when we finally put on our new clothes.

Not so now.

I watch my nephews. Whenever I buy a new T-shirt for them, if they love it, they wear it immediately. They are very much part of a here-and-now generation.

When I was small, senior members in the family often told us to work hard, and said that hard work would earn us future opportunities. I watch the news. Young people nowadays do not really believe that. While in the past we grabbed hold of any job opportunity that came along if we needed a job, the younger generations in Hong Kong will only work if they can find the job they want. I can understand the sentiment. Unfortunately, the right job does not always come along that easily in life.

When we were kids, our parents told us to spend money wisely and keep our savings in the bank. We were often preparing for harder times, because we never knew what was coming next. Nowadays, the banks are pushing for a larger market share in credit-card business among college students. Some college students have acquired the habit of spending over their credit limit, accumulating large credit-card loans even before they graduate.

Some of my students think it is more important to spend money on the latest iPhone model than to buy textbooks. In fact, they can borrow a textbook from our school for the meager sum of HK $50 (US $6.40) a year, but not many do so.

Today, everyone in the world wants immediate gratification. Everything is about me, I, now.

You may think I am unsympathetic to the younger generation. Not so. This is the world we created for them. If we don’t like the way they are behaving, it is likely we are to blame, at least in part.

As a teacher, I am privileged to be able to mix with some really caring and conscientious young people. I know quite a number of them well, as they work for me as student assistants in my projects. Sometimes, when I look at them, I am happy knowing that, despite what we see and hear in the news, we do have a fine younger generation coming along.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Life is bearable because there is hope

A friend of mine died of leukemia a few months ago. He retired about three years ago and then was suddenly taken ill. Two weeks ago, I went with a colleague to visit his widow. She treated us at a restaurant to dim sum, a customary meal of local Chinese people.

Sundays are family days, and many families go for morning dim sum together. If your friends are visiting, they will be treated, as well. The widow’s son, daughter-in-law and 1-year-old granddaughter were all there. She seemed to be coping well, and we chatted away merrily. Soon, it was time to leave, and she came with us to the minibus stop to see us off. Suddenly, she told us, “I still miss him terribly,” and then burst into tears.

Life must be unbearable for her, because they were married for almost four decades and were very close. My colleague tried to comfort her by asking her to be brave, and to think of her current responsibilities of looking after the rest of her family and her granddaughter. We were in a public place and didn’t really have the chance to talk in depth. She stopped sobbing, and then we parted.

After I got home, I kept thinking of her—her grief and her loss. I wrote her a card. I wish I had had more time and been in a quieter place with her, so that she could cry her heart out. I wish I had had the courage to stop my colleague from talking. The woman needed a chance to express her true feelings.

As a nurse, I am expected to know how to therapeutically communicate with people in need. But, sometimes, I find myself tongue-tied, especially when I am with friends. I do not pretend to know how other people feel, because I don’t. I can’t. I can only imagine. But every individual’s experience is private and special. Nobody else can experience something in the exact same manner. Often, it is good enough simply to be there and listen. Let the person’s grief flow out. It is only in companionship that we feel supported. It is only in telling that we start to heal.

I often tell my students it is unnecessary to fill every moment with sounds when you are with a patient. The ability to tolerate needed silence in a conversation says much about a person’s skills in communication.

Although I am concerned about my friend’s wife, who is now a widow, I think time will be her best friend. The family is close, and she finds immense joy in playing an important part in her granddaughter’s life. In a young life, one can see joy and hope. We can find pure joy in simple matters in a child. Looking at him or her, we see hope for a happier, better future.

Life becomes bearable because there is hope.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Honor

I read this piece of news in the papers. A father sold his home and then worked very hard every day with his wife, making fishing nets to pay off his deceased sons’ debt. Three of his four sons died in a super storm four years ago, owing huge sums of money. The couple is expected to work for years to come, in order to finish paying their sons’ debt. The father said he would do this for his sons. He is honoring his sons by paying their debt. It is not just the love of a father or a strong sense of responsibility that compels the man to do this. I call it honor. He is an honorable man. He is now 82 years old.

I see honorable seniors every day in Hong Kong. They may be old, and some may be a little messy. They are those ordinary people to whom you may not give a second glance when you meet them in the street. Some can be rather peculiar in their behavior, but they are all honorable people to me, just the same. They are respecting life by doing the best they can.

I see many seniors selling all sorts of stuff on the streets. I don’t think they are trying to make money. I doubt they can make good money out of the items they sell—pediclips, hairclips, buttons, rubber bands, candies and so on, which are usually worth no more than a few dollars. What I see is that they are trying to spend their time doing something useful.

An older woman listening to a Walkman and selling goods in a bag; an older man scrubbing the outer shell of an electric fan to remove the rust; a barber cutting hair on a pedestrian walkway under a bridge; a group marking their place every morning outside the train station to collect used free newspapers from passersby for recycling: All these sights tell me about seniors’ ingenuity in finding meaningful occupations for themselves. I find it an admirable virtue.

Senior cleaning rusty fan.

Fan repair king.

Selling phones and other electronic devices.

Seniors collect and recycle newspapers.

Senior retailer interacts with customer.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

On uselessness and being

I saw a couple in my Health and Cognitive Assessment Clinic one day. It was the husband who needed to come, upon the urging of his daughter. However, it was clear that the wife needed help, too.

Her physical health was greatly compromised 15 years ago as a result of complications from spinal surgery. She had been through great pain. She told us that, if it hadn’t been for her husband and her children, she would have been dead a long time ago. As we talked more, she became sad. She said she was coping well, because she didn’t talk about something that had happened to her. Whenever she would talk about this experience with someone, she would cry.

She didn’t go out, except for grocery shopping, and pretty much restricted her social activity to her small family circle. She told me how great her children were, supporting her both emotionally and financially. Her husband, in spite of minor memory problems, took good care of her. She pretty much couldn’t do anything for herself now, except take responsibility for her own hygiene. Her husband did the cooking and all the rest of the household chores. She was sad, feeling totally useless.

She didn’t know that her worth was in her being.

I wish all seniors knew that their worth is in their being. Just being there is good enough. Just being there and allowing their loved ones to serve them is a good and useful existence. Imagine the children’s loss and feeling of emptiness and loneliness at not having a mother, or a husband at having lost his wife—it is unbearable. Think of the joy and satisfaction of the children when they are able to take care of their beloved parents.

I sometimes think of one day losing my mother, who is now in her 80s. My father passed away a long time ago; when my mother dies, there will be no vertical lineage that I can claim. I will be all by myself, even though I have siblings. I will be someone without a mother. The mere thought makes me feel disconnected in this world.

Imagine the peace of mind and sense of completeness of a child at having a parent for whom he or she loves to care. Worthiness of existence is not counted by what we can or cannot do, but simply by who we are.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.

Love of a mother

While I was recuperating from radiotherapy, my mother came to stay with me for a few months. Because she has memory problems, she could not remember that I was suffering from cancer. My brother and sister told her, but it didn’t register. Every now and then, my brother and sister and I would talk about my illness, such as taking my traditional Chinese medicine or going for follow-ups, etc. On these occasions, my mother would be reminded of my illness and then remember that she must thank the gods for me. Most Chinese people in Hong Kong have no particular religion, except worshipping their ancestors. My mother is this way.

One day, she asked us to buy a cooked chicken, fruits and Chinese rice wine, in order for her to thank the gods for having mercy on me. I bought a whole chicken, as is the traditional Chinese custom when you want to worship or show your gratitude to the gods.

It was a bright and sunny afternoon. We got the table ready, with the dim sum, fruits, teas and wines all properly arranged, just as Chinese people do when they make offerings to the gods. We even got some incense sticks burning.

My mother kowtowed to the gods for me. While on her knees, she softly mumbled her prayers, asking our ancestors to continue to bestow mercy on me. It had been a long while since I had seen my mother kneeling down praying to the gods. Nowadays, we are her “representatives” to go sweep the graves during the Ching Ming Festival. She is somewhat wobbly on her feet.

We were to go to my older brother’s home for dinner that evening. After appeasing the gods, the next thing to do was to cut the chicken. We wanted to share it with him. Western people use a knife or kitchen scissors to cut, but we use a chopper. As a child, I saw my mother chop up a whole chicken on a chopping board many times. I am aware that my mother is growing older and frailer, but I didn’t realize how weakened she has become.

I have vivid memories of my mother chopping up an entire chicken and then putting the pieces back together again in the shape of a whole chicken. She now struggled with the chopper and did not have the strength to cut the chicken into halves. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, I took out my scissors, and then Mom used it to cut the chicken into pieces. I offered to help, but she said that I wouldn’t know how to do it. She forgot that I am a grown woman. My heart ached to see that my mother could no longer do things that she was good at. I was not cognizant of the full picture of what my mother has lost to aging. The gulf between the images from back when I was small and the image I saw at that moment made me mourn my mother’s loss.

All these years that my mother has slowly been growing old, we have gradually been doing more and more things for her. My mother no longer takes care of us. We take care of her. She is used to not doing anything in particular and keeps calling herself “lazy.” But she actively took charge when she wanted to please the gods for her daughter.

This will probably be the last thing that my mother will do for me.

For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.