The Hong Kong-born Filipino sisters who 'didn't exist' for 30 years
Dawn, 30, has a laughter that fills the room. Kaye, 29, looks attentively at her older sister in admiration - just like when they were children and she would follow her everywhere.
At first sight, there seems to be nothing unusual about these two sisters. But, behind their smiles, lie almost three decades of frustration.
Both Dawn and Kaye were born at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Yau Ma Tei, Hong Kong, but growing up they did not attend school, never saw a doctor, and never held an identity card or a passport. Officially, these two sisters did not exist.
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Their mother, a former domestic worker from the Philippines, struggled to register them in the city and eventually gave up. "I tried to do their documents by myself... and I asked [their father] to do it for them, but he always changed his mind and I did not want to force him."
Shortly after she had the two girls, Feli's boyfriend - with whom she had been together for about five years - disappeared and never offered any support to their daughters.
By then, Feli had stopped working and felt she had no option but to go underground. "I was already overstaying [my visa] so I was afraid," she recalled.
The following years were spent in friends' homes - about seven in total - in Jordan, Yau Ma Tei, Hung Hom and Mong Kok. In return, Feli would help with the housework and look after her friends' children, while raising her own. "I was not able to send my daughters to school, but I tried to teach them," she said.
"When [Dawn] was like 11 or 12 a friend lent her a library card and she would bring five books at once. And then her sister would copy her," Feli recalled. Despite never having attended formal classes, the two girls are now fluent in English and Tagalog.
Kaye, Feli and Dawn are now planning to fly to the Philippines. Photo: Winson Wong alt=Kaye, Feli and Dawn are now planning to fly to the Philippines. Photo: Winson Wong
"At the time, I thought of going back to the Philippines. But because of the poverty there, I thought that it would be easier to raise the two here," said Feli, 58. In hindsight, "I regret not going back and sending them to school."
Dawn was fully aware of their circumstances by the age of 10. Her mother had avoided the issue, but she learnt about it from other adults. "When there were visitors, they would talk when my mum was not around and say things like maybe they could adopt us," she said. "Someone told me we could get checked and my mum could be arrested ... It was sad and scary."
The two girls would mostly stay at home watching television and playing video games, and would go out only with their mother. "We wanted to protect her," Dawn said. Their weekends were spent at a Catholic Church, where they were able to join social activities and hang out with friends.
Kaye did not learn of their unique circumstances until she was about 16. "My sister told me carefully. I was scared and felt hopeless," she recalled. "Before that I was curious, but I would not ask questions."
Kaye, who developed an eye for photography, thought of becoming an architect but she gave up on that dream because of her legal status.
As they approached adulthood, doubts and fears began to materialise. "It was sad that we could not do what our friends were doing. We could not finish school and get a good job," Dawn said. "I had always imagined myself teaching younger kids."
Dawn's frustration grew when she started dating because she knew that without documents marriage and leaving the city would be impossible.
But, about five years ago, some tragic news brought a glimpse of hope. The case of a 15-year-old girl who plunged to her death in 2015 in Repulse Bay, having been born and raised in the city without documents, prompted the siblings to look into what they could do about their own situation.
"I wished I had known that girl. It really made me so sad," Dawn said. "I started reading about it and found an article where a PathFinders' spokesperson said that there were many such cases and she said that there were people out there who could help."
Dawn spent hours browsing the website of the non-profit group, which is focused on supporting migrant mothers and their children. The family was weary because they had previously sought help from a lawyer who asked for more than HK$20,000 and offered no guarantees of success. But Dawn insisted their mother call PathFinders and in September last year, she did.
"My mum was calm and teary. Everyone was teary when we got an appointment for the next day," the older sister recalled.
At the time, all they had were immunisation reports and Feli's expired Hong Kong identity card.
With the help of the non-profit group and two lawyers, they took a DNA test to confirm the mother-daughter relationship before trying to get birth certificates. Then they looked for witnesses and photographs that showed they had spent their entire lives in Hong Kong and drafted biographies. They eventually surrendered at the Immigration Department offices in Kowloon Bay, where they spent 12 hours being interviewed.
The two sisters received their birth certificates on October 22 [this year] and then requested travel documents from the Philippines consulate.
'A GREAT LOOPHOLE'
Even for PathFinders, this case was far from easy to navigate. "We had clients who had overstayed and remained underground for several years, but not to that extent," said Hina Ali, a case manager with the charity.
"Hong Kong has a law that says that children must be registered within 42 days, but what happens if it goes beyond? Is the hospital going to get involved? This is a great loophole that I discovered," she said. "It should not be just the mother's responsibility. Definitely not the children's responsibility. But, also, as a society I feel like people could have intervened sooner."
Catherine Gurtin, CEO of PathFinders, said there was a need to address misconceptions within the community, while providing education about domestic workers' maternity rights and informing them before departing to Hong Kong.
The family of three is now planning to leave the city.
"We decided to go to the Philippines for a new beginning and to meet grandma," Dawn said. She intends to fly to the United States, where her fiance is, marry him and get a job there. "I want to help others and prevent this from happening," she said.
Kaye plans to go to school and then take a college degree in photography and digital arts.
Their mother wants to help her younger daughter to pursue her studies, while she herself is keen to embrace a quieter life, raising goats and chickens as well as growing vegetables at a farm in her home country.
"For those who have a situation like us, don't be scared. Fear is part of it, but you also have to believe that there are things out there for you," Dawn said. "There are people who can help you."
Although they are ready to move on, Hong Kong will always be part of them.
"Hong Kong is my home," she said. "Even if we were not supposed to be here."
* Full identities have been withheld at the interviewees' request
This article originally appeared on the South China Morning Post (SCMP).
Copyright (c) 2020. South China Morning Post Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved.
