Confessions of a Suki

dunkin-donuts
“The coffee will be ready in five minutes,” said the young woman behind the counter. I suppose there’s nothing too surprising about a Dunkin Donuts cashier making such a statement. What may surprise you is the fact that I had not ordered anything when she gave me the status of the coffee. From the moment she saw me walk in, she was pretty sure that I would order the “two doughnuts and a coffee” combo.

This kind of thing happens to me all the time at SM Manila (the mall located close to my apartment) and other places. I still remember a humorous question asked by one of my volunteer missionaries last year: “Do people always know what you want before you say anything?” This particular question came when I walked into a campus administration office and they automatically led me to the person I needed to talk with. I guess it did seem that people often knew what (or who) I wanted as soon as I entered the room.

This would be a good time to introduce my foreign readers to a new Tagalog word: suki. This word means “loyal customer,” which is exactly what I’ve become at many places here. I guess being a foreigner makes it that much easier for folks to remember me and my preferences. Perhaps I also get extra “suki points” for making small talk with the cashiers and servers.

Being a suki does have advantages that I’ve exploited from time to time. A few weeks ago I kept running into long lines at places where I regularly order food. Each time my order went ahead of some of the other customers–I assume they had not yet reached suki status. No one complained as far as I know–maybe the Filipinos intuitively knew what was going on.

A Man with Two Homes

I have previously mentioned my status as a walking contradiction. Below is a journal entry that I wrote back in 2005 during a Christmas vacation to the States. I think about these types of things every time I visit here in the States:

Living in the Philippines has changed me—as if I am no longer fully American, but not Filipino either. I feel completely at ease in both places, but completely at home in neither. When I’m in the States I think about the relationships I have left on the other side of the globe. The same is true for my time spent in the Philippines. My emotional ties stretch across the globe, stretching me in the process.

I laugh at Filipinos when they use the word “cold,” and laugh at Americans when they use the word “traffic.”

I enjoy the ease at which I can drive down the country roads of my home town. I enjoy the ease at which I can make new friends in my beloved Philippines.

I do not understand how some Filipinos can buy a tiny packet of shampoo that has only one or two day’s use. I do not understand some Americans’ obsession with acquiring excess material wealth.

I am admirer, lover, and critic of both cultures. I am a man with two homes. It is both a blessing and a predicament.