THE ROAD IS NOT SMOOTH, BUT IT IS MINE
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." ~James 1:2–4
Back in May, I made a bold decision to remain here in the
UAE after much difficult reflection, sacrificing the dreams I had envisioned
back home. Perhaps those dreams are only postponed, if God still wills them to
come to reality in the days ahead. Though I don’t particularly like being here,
and the choice to stay wasn’t easy, I must say it has brought joy to my family.
Seeing them happy about it has given me peace, like I’ve achieved something
meaningful by living out a selfless principle—to share joy, not hoard it. Of
course, it’s not always going to be a smooth, happy story, there will be bumps
along the way. After all, driving on a perfectly paved road rarely leaves you
with any sense that a real journey took place.
Since it took me a while to decide to stay, it also took me some time to start my life here in the UAE. Unlike back home where I could survive with almost nothing if I were willing to live like a hermit, life in a foreign land is a different story. If you want to make progress, you have to embrace both what you love and what you despise, the things you're proud of and even those you’re embarrassed by. It’s a real-life version of Charles Darwin’s survival of the fittest. Sure, struggles exist back home too, but the difference between the two worlds is vast. I came to know it even in just a short time because it’s something that strongly radiates from the people I’ve met, the places I’ve been, and the unique culture of this land. As I’ve often said (and I don’t know how much longer I’ll keep saying it) I don’t like this place but I have to be here. My entire existence is anchored to what I believe is the purpose of my life. But even a ship with its anchor dropped doesn’t stay perfectly still—it drifts with the current, and that, best reflects my current situation.
Anyway, that’s enough for the drama.
Right now, I’m in my fourth month of training to become a
Medical Coder. I’d say it’s neither easy nor hard—it’s somewhere in between.
But as the saying goes, “not choosing between two options is choosing the
worst,” so I’ll admit it’s hard, at least for me. What I find most challenging
isn’t the coding guidelines, but the medical terminologies. They’re all so new
to me that I feel like I’ve figured out how to navigate the system, but maybe I
underestimated the weight of what I’m carrying. It’s like learning to drive a
10-wheeler truck, I might know how to steer it but I didn’t anticipate how
tough it would be once it’s fully loaded with deliveries I’m responsible for.
To add to that, I struggle to understand my professor because of the language
barrier. While most of my co-trainees, both Filipinos and foreigners, seem to
follow her well enough, I often find myself in the corner, wishing for subtitles
would magically appear whenever she speaks. It’s different from previous
trainings I’ve been where we were almost treated like preschoolers, this one
feels like a leaf drifting quickly down a river—you catch a glimpse of it, and
it’s gone, khalas! I don't mean to sound ungrateful—after all, I’m a foreigner in this land, and it’s my responsibility to adapt. So between the unfamiliar medical terms, the difficulty in
comprehension, and the fast-paced teaching style, the struggle is oh so real.
Even when I replay the recorded sessions made my keyboard’s back arrow starting
to wear out. But to be clear, none of this discourages me. In fact, it pushes
me even further, and I welcome it. I’ve given my full consent to this struggle
because I know it’s for my own good and for the good of others. This my way of
surviving in this foreign land and I got to do it by hook or by crook!
Another struggle that I—well, my entire family have had to
face, which even affected my new found friends, is the legality of my stay here
in the UAE. I can’t legally remain without a valid working visa, and such a
visa isn’t simply handed out by the government; it comes with fees,
restrictions, and rules.
A friend of my sister’s—let’s call her Choi—offered to help
me get a partner’s visa that would allow me to stay legally for two years. The
process was initiated, and a new visa was issued, so we believed everything was
settled, I could stay and move freely in public. But what we thought was okay
turned out not to be. After going through the entire process and with my sister
Apol paying the fees in full, we later found out that two essential components
were still missing to make the visa fully legal—those are Medical Insurance and
the Emirates ID, which every expat must have. I frequently reminded Choi about
these requirements, and each time she assured me everything was under control until
the day I was fined for overstaying. This brought anger and frustration to our
family at a time when we were already dealing with other pressing challenges.
It wasn’t just me she betrayed, but also the friendship she had with my sister
and the trust of our whole family. Believe me, we have tried reaching out to
her to resolve this, but she’s been elusive and insists that everything was
done properly. When I first raised the issue back in June, she seemed surprised
the process wasn’t complete, giving me hope she would fix it. But now, faced
with the truth, she’s had no choice but to indirectly admit she didn’t finalize
it despite being fully paid.
Right now, I’m stuck at home, afraid to go out because I
don’t want to risk legal consequences that I never wished to fall upon me.
Thankfully, I have friends ready to take up arms not just for me, but for my
entire family. Hopefully, by God’s will, everything will be resolved—whether or
not it turns out as we hoped, as long as it’s alright, that will be good
enough.
UPDATE: August 1, 2025—I started writing this blog yesterday while waiting for my friend, Sis. Faye, who had accompanied me to the Typing Center to help sort out my visa issues. They initially managed to work around the problem, but there was only a slim chance of getting it resolved. We were advised to closely monitor the status of the application which I did throughout the night. When I saw no updates, I eventually drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Sis. Faye kept calling me. I had a feeling it was about the application. I woke up late, having stayed late the night before, and though I hadn’t checked the status yet, I sensed she probably had. Still, whether it was approved or not, I knew I had to accept the outcome with peace. After all, there wasn’t much I could do in the first place. Sis. Faye had even covered all the expenses of the transactions. Then, with a calm and somber voice, she began, “Tito...” followed by a brief pause, “it’s approved.” I hurriedly thanked God, both for the approval and for using Sis. Faye as an instrument of His grace.
Now, it's clearer to me that I’m meant to be here in the UAE not simply because I chose to, but because God has a far better plan than mine. After all, I am His servant. Let it be done to me according to His will.
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| "Forgotten Village" by Arkhip Kuindzhi |
