One of the biggest tragedies to befall a Philippine household is the loss of a maid. So noted Mariel Francisco in my all-time favorite book about the Philippines, “The History of the Burgis”.

The History of the Burgis. Or how the elite made it to the top of the pile. (1987)

No truer statement has ever been made. Worlds unravel, lives fall apart, relationships crumble.

It must be a generational thing because most of my friends and I shared the same problem in that out mothers could never keep a maid for very long. I think it had something to do with their being born and raised during the war, when times were tough and resources scarce.

I just know that my mother wasn’t the easiest person to live with. While old age has mellowed her, she can still be an exacting perfectionist. She’s incredibly smart, highly organized and efficient and she expects everyone to be like her. Failing that, at the very least, she expects everyone to do exactly as they’re told.

Which, to put it mildly, can be a bit annoying.

Being the only daughter in a family of six, whenever my mother sent another maid packing, that meant that most of the chores fell on me. I found housework mind-numbingly repetitive and horrifically thankless. Later on, in university, I learned that Karl Marx had a term that so aptly described it: “the alienation of labor”.

And that’s why I’ve always been thankful for household help. It cannot be easy, getting up every morning, going through the same, never-ending routine of serving a family that is of no relation to you.

It’s a strange relationship – the relationships one forms with one’s maids. One of my friends relates that when she was a kid, someone asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up and she replied, “A maid.” While this may sound funny, the truth is that the children of my generation were left so often with our “yayas” (nannies) that they became our parental figures and we were closer to them and identified with them more than we did with our own parents.

And when a maid stays with you for so long, the lines that divide blur. Having witnessed and helped the family through their various ups and downs, they themselves become family.

We had some French guests at the resort once. They were in the Philippines because their son’s nanny, whom they called Nina because she was also their son’s godmother (- the Tagalog word for “godmother” is “ninang”), had been found to be illegally staying in France. Their son was old enough not to need a nanny but they still insisted that Nina belonged with them. Because she was family. They were so desperate to get her back that one option they were considering was for the husband to marry her since he and his wife weren’t officially married. I never did find out how that story ended but I’m pretty sure that Nina is now back in France with her French family.