Bienvenida came to England at the age of 18 to be a nurse and enjoyed her career in Norfolk.
I left school around the age of 18 years old. I worked in a small clinic where the doctor is a family friend. Once while I was there this doctor said, ‘You can get Filipino girls through nursing.’ So we were told to do our training here in England. I asked my dad, ‘Dad,’ I said, ‘There’s a doctor in the hospital who says they need some nursing students in England to train.’ My Dad said, ‘How long will you stay there?’ I said, ‘I suppose five years.’ ‘I’ll let you stay five years, after five you come back.’ I always remember my Dad saying, ‘If you’re in trouble girl, don’t let me know!’ (Laughter) ‘No Dad,’ I say, ‘After five years I’ll come back.’ I did, I went back.
I travelled with three friends. And I remember the airline was Qantas and we travelled from Manila to Heathrow Airport. The driver picked us up because the Matron said, ‘There are some Filipinos coming from Philippines, can you pick them up in Thorpe and then take them to the nurses’ home in Drayton?’ I left the Philippines August 27th 1967 and I was 27.
They took us to this nurses’ home in Drayton but it was ever so dark! ‘Oh, my gosh!’ we said. It was wooden and old fashioned, and we realised that at night-time they used to lock us up – 12 o’clock.
We spoke proper English, but the Norfolk accent was difficult to understand. We didn’t do any cooking at all; we were looked after by housekeepers, five of them. It was ever so cold; we used to have a wood burner. There was a big television in the main room, and a big fireplace and a sitting room and a gramophone. All in all there were ten of us, and the majority they are French and Spanish. We stayed for five months, just to sort of acclimatise ourselves, and then we started school.
I was in Hellesdon Hospital for three years and that was quite depressing really: I suppose at the time we didn’t know what we’re going to expect. I remember we used to earn £18 a month. There was our clothes, our uniform, everything; they clean our room, they cook our food. At the time we used to go into the city to buy things. On top of that I used to send money home to pay my air fare, because I came here ‘fly now, pay later’.
Some of the English girls, they were ever so kind; they used to take us into the city – £5 is big money then. Holidays, summertime, we did fruit picking. We used to go to Saxlingham, pick strawberries to earn some money for going to Samson [Samson and Hercules nightclub].
You know at the time you can trust men, you can trust people. I suppose they see us going to Samson – we never go to Samson two or three, always four, five like. We always go out in a group. And people then, men, they were ever so kind. It was the only place we go – Samson, nurses’ home, Samson, nurses’ home.
The nurses then used to have a lot of parties, and every Independence Day we used to celebrate in the nurses’ home, because in St. Andrew’s Hospital you get loads of Filipinos in there as well. They go to Hellesdon Dance and then Hellesdon will go St. Andrews. And at the staff ball dance I met my future husband, through friends. I didn’t want to go back [to the Philippines], but I did. And of course my boyfriend kept writing me. I got lots of letters – I’ve got my letters upstairs. I always remember my Dad cried. My Dad said, ‘If this English man wants to marry you, you had better go back to England.’ My husband then wants to go to the Philippines to meet my parents, but at the time we were under martial law. And so my Dad said, ‘Not to let your boyfriend come here because I can’t take responsibility if something happened.’ Martial law was terrible, you’re more restricted, and then you’re under curfew. After 8 o’clock I think you stay home.
I got married 1975. My mother-in-law organised the wedding. I saved, bought a cheap engagement ring; I bought a cheap wedding ring, a sort of glass wedding ring. Just my friends and Angie who also used to be my Ward Sister came, and some of the girls from the nurses’ home. When I enter the church and read the marriage, I thought about my Dad. I kept in mind his words, ‘If you’re in trouble don’t let me know.’ ‘My God,’ I said to myself, ‘If I be in trouble I’ll be by myself.’ I said to myself, ‘I won’t tell my Dad, I won’t tell my Dad!’
I went home before I got married, and of course I told my Dad. And then I’ve only been home twice since then.
I did day duty for a while and then I came on night duty, and I did night duty until I retired at 63. I didn’t like the system at all – it was all paperwork. No more time for the patients. When I first started my nursing, our patients’ ward had 40 patients, the caring was there. The only one in the office was the ward sister or the charge nurse. But now, towards the end of my career there was more paperwork; the new system. You lost touch with the patient; you were sitting in the office. Even when I was on night duty, you write reports in the office half the night. Prior to that, you were with the patient, attending, looking after the patient.
I worked in a mental hospital, so you’re dealing with manic depressives, schizophrenics, mental illness. At the time it was more young people; then towards the end of my nursing they got older so they’re more classified as, you know, dementia. But during my early nursing you were dealing with young people with schizophrenia in Hellesdon Hospital – that’s where you get the schizophrenic, the manic depressives. Funnily enough, I never felt frightened.
We used to lock in the mental patients at night. I got my own ward so you know your patients. I then got two side rooms, but I did have a part-time nurse until midnight, then after midnight they leave. But my nursing officer said, ‘If you’re in trouble just give us a buzz.’ At that time patients were all locked in, but nowadays, you’re not allowed to. Towards the end of my career I was in one ward by myself on night duty – the ward was sedated. They sleep all night.
In the end I made my life here. I think I led a busy life, especially when I got married. I had a very good husband, also my duty. Sometimes we’d just meet on the road and say hello!
Bienvenida (1940-2024) talking to WISEArchive on 14th August 2009 in Mulbarton.
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