When Vivian Estrada was growing up in the Philippines, she and her extended family picnicked on Saturdays down by the river near their town.
"It was a nice river," says Vivian, stroking the air in curves, "clear and flowing. Lots of shade." While the men rested and the children played, her mother and aunties cleaned laundry in the river.
Now Vivian works at the Queen Anne Laundry Room among gleaming white machines. The setting and method are different, but the activity is pretty much the same.
Vivian was born in 1957 in the municipality of Mabini, province of Pangasinan, north of Manila. She is the sixth of nine children in the Estrada family. The eldest were twin girls, one of whom died of asthma as an adult. Vivian's father was Mabini's postmaster, and her mother was a laundress in a nursing home, another foreshadowing Vivian's present job.
Vivian studied banking and finance at the University of Pangasinan, where she met fellow student Marcelino Abarra. The two fell in love and got engaged. Then Marcelino moved to Manila to take a job as a sanitation engineer for the Metro Manila Development Authority (MMDA), and for two years they continued a long-distance romance. Finally Vivian decided there were more opportunities for her, too, in Manila, and moved there without finishing college. She got a job as a filing clerk.
After a five-year engagement, Vivian and Marcelino wed in 1981. Eventually they bought a house in Manila and had three sons: Gerald, Jason and Jonathan.
While Marcelino worked at the MMDA (eventually putting in 28 years), Vivian ran a mini-mart out of a room in their home. It not only supplemented the family's income, but served as a gathering place for people from the neighborhood. "Neighbors know each other in the Philippines," says Vivian. "Not like here."
Over the years, Vivian's aunties moved to America-specifically, to Seattle-and when her parents retired, they also relocated to the Northwest. Soon the lot of them were asking the Abarras to move here as well. Vivian and Marcelino applied for visas in 1988-and waited 14 years for them to be granted.
"Wait[ing] is shorter if you are single," says Vivian. Having offspring further complicates matters. Once a dependent turns 21, their immigration category changes.
Just days before Gerald's 21st birthday, the Abarras were granted their visas. "We rush to get ready!" says Vivian. On Aug. 28, 2002, she flew to Seattle with Gerald and Jason, via Tokyo and Hawaii. On Aug. 30, Gerald celebrated his birthday with some of his aunties, his grandparents and many great-aunties.
Marcelino was delayed because the authorities misspelled his name on his visa; it took several months to correct the error. Jonathan stayed behind with his brother, and the two came over in November.
By that time Vivian was employed. Two weeks after her arrival, she heard about a job opening at the Laundromat on Queen Anne, run by the Maytag company at the time. The person who interviewed her was longtime manager Mely Estocapio, also from the Philippines. Mely immediately became Vivian's advocate, urging the owners to hire her, which they did.
Mely recently returned to the Philippines; Vivian is now the manager, and the Laundromat has new owners. "[The] new owners are good bosses," Vivian says with a smile.
At work Vivian's tasks don't vary much, but the public she deals with can be unpredictable. She sometimes finds condoms in people's pockets, and once a "crazy man" stripped naked to wash the clothes he was wearing. When Vivian asked him to cover himself, he became violent. "I had to call 911," she says, laughing at the memory.
On paydays she goes to the Foulee Market near her home on Beacon Hill and stocks up on Filipino groceries. She cooks dishes from her native cuisine such as adobo (meat or seafood and vegetables cooked in vinegar and spices), kare-kare (a thick oxtail stew) and sinigang (stew in a sour broth). Her family eats outdoors whenever possible. It is not as hot here as in the Philippines, but the weather accommodates picnics often enough for her. "We eat in our back yard, or go to my aunties'," says Vivian.
All three of the Abarra sons still live with Vivian and Marcelino. "It is the way of our culture," she says. For entertainment, the family holds karaoke sessions with the microphone they own. "We like to sing oldies," says Vivian, "like Tom Jones, Bee Gees, Bread."
For her part, Vivian plays the guitar; she used to accompany her church choir back in the Philippines. She is Roman Catholic, as are more than 80 percent of Filipinos.
Also like many Filipinos, Vivian is multilingual. She speaks Tagalog and the regional dialect Pangasinanse, and she understands Ilocano, the dialect spoken in Marcelino's native region. She also practices her English every day.
Whether they become United States citizens, Vivian and Marcelino plan to retire in the Philippines. (Marcelino works as a maintenance technician at Bayview Manor.) The couple has been back once since emigrating, for three weeks last year. They visited relatives (Vivian still has three sisters there) as well as their house, which they are renting out. "We miss our house," says Vivian. "We have a dog there, all our furniture. Life is simple back home."
But their sons will stay in the United States "Their future," says Vivian, "that's why we are here." Gerald, now 24, works at a PCC Natural Market. Ironically, having already graduated with a degree in nautical engineering in the Philippines, he was offered a good job there but, alas, he had to turn it down.
Jason, 21, not discouraged by his brother's experience, studies civil engineering at North Seattle Community College. Jonathan, 18, just graduated from Rainier Beach High School.
With her large but intimate extended family spread across the globe, Vivian has said many farewells. "But my mother and aunties teach me to be strong!" she says, punching the air with both fists like a pugilist. That strength, she says, has helped her adjust to a new culture as well.
Vivian says she thinks her adopted culture is clean-not a surprising observation from someone who does laundry for a living.
Teru Lundsten is a freelance writer and a regular contributor to the Queen Anne News, an associate publication.[[In-content Ad]]
