Angel Ram: the sultry chanteuse spills her plaintive woes

Joan “Angel” Dacayana Ramchand, more popularly known in the entertainment field as Angel Ram, stands vulnerably incapable despite being equipped with communication gadgets that couldn’t be used to communicate with her loved ones back home. Her bitter past, haunting and deplorable, forbids her to neither look back nor correspond with them.
Behind her seemingly carefree facade was a traumatic past that keeps lingering on her mind and even haunts her at night. It was an emotionally harrowing phase of her life that she wishes to expunge if only she could find a way. Getting everything off her chest wasn’t easy. It took this writer tons of convincing power to make her open up and give light to why she was forbidden to either write or talk to her children.
With reddening eyes in the verge of tears after remaining hushed and soundless, Angel cast a distant glance…drew out a deep breath as she repositioned her left hand (which was supported by a sling due to an accidental fall when she slipped on a snow-cover concrete pavement last weekend after a gig), and stanchly looked straight at me.
“As much as possible I want to keep my private life… confidentially private,” she said, starting to sound cautious that induced a hint of something really serious. I responded with a nod assuring her of my broadest understanding. “Nobody knows the personal adversities that I’ve been through. I may look fulfilled and contented but in actuality, I’m being haunted by a disturbing nightmare,” she added.
Silence prevailed. I remained motionless…as if to persuade her to go on. It took another couple of seconds before she mustered enough audacity to resume.
“I got married at an early age on April 19, 2003 and became a mother when I was about 19. We met while I was at the Ateneo de Zamboanga while he attended an equally prestigious school, Claret de Zamboanga. A scion of one of the well-off families in the city, my husband was with good looks and filthy rich but wealth was never an issue. It was just that he was very dependent on his parents to the point that we literally survived under and existed from what my in-laws provided us, including a fully furnished residential property with maids and nannies for our children. I should say, my husband was without a backbone and couldn’t personally support his own family,” she declared.
“I graduated with a Nursing degree but unfortunately, I didn’t find time to review and take the Nursing Board Exam for my license. Our family was growing every three years… finally having two girls and a boy. By now they must have grown up… my girls should be 12 and 10 while my youngest, the boy, is 7.”
“There were a lot that I sacrificed and gave up for my family. Aside from not pursuing my Nursing career I even totally abandoned my only passion—which was singing.”
“By the way, when did you start singing,” I asked. “Who influenced you to enter this field?”
“I could still vividly recall, I was 4 years old when first sung in public… but I was already 9 when I first sang professionally via Donna Cruz’s version of a Boy Mondragon original, Rain. Actually, my parents were both performers: my Dad was a former band drummer while my Mom was the band’s vocalist. Aside from me, my brother is currently a drummer and my other sisters also sing.”
“I was all out with my life as a housewife until one fateful day when my husband’s father sent me to a clandestine meeting with his paramour… a well-kept secret which, by coincidence, I happened to personally knew the other woman. That supposedly critical rendezvous unfortunately came to the knowledge of my mother-in-law and my husband that made them flare up in anger. My consistent denunciation proved weak and what was even worst was the culprit’s steady contradiction and well-orchestrated denial.”
“I was the one left in the bad light. That incident gave way for the binding thread to run loose and tainted our slowly paling conjugal relation. My in-laws would constantly try to win custody of my children especially when times I was out of the house. I pity my children for having had to experience  multiple adjustment to such upsetting situations enduring the ‘punishment’ not of their own doing.”
“There existed a bizarrely deafening silence between my husband and me. We never talk despite living under one roof… as if neither of us exists nor ever known each other.We acted more than complete strangers to say the least.”
“One day, while I was in the hospital for my kidney treatment, I suddenly remembered my daughter’s birthday and decided to go home. Through persistent plea and eager requests, my doctor consented to my forced release after signing a document.”
“Rushing inside in excitement to greet my little girl held me dumb-founded… all the rooms were empty. All the kids were taken again by my husband to his parents with only a nanny left to look after the house. I felt exceedingly hurt and jilted while simultaneously suffering from the throbbing pains of my kidney operation. While seated on our bed helpless and tormented, my husband bolted into the room hissing in raging anger. Without premeditation or option he started hurting me…roughly manhandled and pushed me to the floor, kicked me and twisted my arms, punched and knocked me. The nanny’s intervention and plea fell on deaf ears. He pushed the nanny out and closed the door…and resumed beating me mercilessly while from outside I could hear the nanny’s pleading and pounding on the door.”
“The grievous scenario was only pacified when my elder sister came on time after the nanny called her. That was the last time I saw his face as I swore to high heavens that it would also be my final sight of the home I thought was a promised haven for my children”.
That was the final stitch of Angel’s sacrifice but not her colorful journey. With no reason to stay and nothing left but her sanity, Angel decided to leave behind that harsh chapter of her life and went to the US to start anew.
But the long string of misfortune seemed still attached to her name. She was held for extensive interrogation at the San Francisco Airport. Unperturbed with guts and wit, Angel brandished a wad of dollars in her purse to guarantee custom officers she’s capable of staying in New York and only released a sigh of relief when she was allowed to board just in time. With a sarcastic smile she rearranged the contents of her purse for the bulk had only four 20 dollars on top and more than two thousand pesos underneath. She felt victorious that time after a series of downfalls.
On August 18, 2013, her flight landed her in Newark Airport where she took the bus to Times Square. She dragged her belongings to a nearby Starbucks Café to avail of a free wi-fi but failed since her phone had non-roaming capacity.  She tried her luck on calling some referred names when a kind-hearted barista offered his phone where she just left messages after getting no response.
With no place to stay Angel, stoic and disoriented, chose to pass the night in the subway sans a single nap to closely guard her suitcases. There were guys that offered either assistance or room but her smart reply that she’s waiting for a friend was convincing enough to leave her alone.
“That was one long sleepless night…scary and in a foreign land at that,” she said.
The first light of day saw Angel back in the coffee shop and luckily got a reply from the barista’s phone.Somebody from Jamaica, Queens offered a space for her to stay.
“I kept on asking for directions, which transportation to take and what landmarks to lead me…until I finally found the place,” Angel vividly recounted, seemingly exhibiting that feeling of exhaustion. “But the house was full and the only space left possible was under the kitchen table. I couldn’t be choosy…it was way safer than sleeping in the streets.”
Angel transiently stayed for 3 days and voluntarily helped in the household chores to compensate for her host’s Samaritan act.
On the 3rd day, when she was scheduled to leave, a newfound housemate offered her a caregiving job for $120 a day.
“Imagine how excited I was. I had only less than $60 left after my fare …good that the owner of the house changed my pesos to dollars, at least I have something to start with.”
Hard-working, skilled, and driven, Angel was finally given a whole lot of opportunity to prove her worth since the first day she worked with the company until this day where she’s considered one of its best assets.
This diminutive lady singer who has had tremendously journeyed across the Pacific from far-off Zamboanga City, miserably armed with just a strapping fortitude and measly a hundred dollars in her pocket, is currently enjoying her NY destination with much gusto.
And as if given an extra bonus, her passion for singing was rediscovered and re-launched on January 2014 at Perlas Restaurant as the female vocalist of the Placid Band and later a regular soloist of the NU7 Band. Lady Luck finally knocked at Angel’s door where the latter welcomed her in with open arms.
Through posting videos of her gigs and performances on You Tube and Facebook, Angel fortuitously discovered how her eldest daughter could access awareness of what she does in NY. Angel knows it with the numerous likes and views her videos been getting from the same person.
Just before bedtime that evening after a heartening interview with Angel, I received this message from her: “Thank you for listening to me. I hardly open up about my life to anyone…and it wasn’t the whole thing yet. There were still so much that I wanted to say but the pain of reminiscing everything cuts off my breath.”
“That wasn’t even half of what I’ve been through. I’m doing everything for my children…and if this “confession” helps I’ll forever be grateful. I don’t mean to say anything bad to anyone who mistreated me, even my ex-husband. All I want is for my children to know how much I love and miss them every single day. If singing would be that instrument to reach out to them, then I would sing tirelessly every day of my life.”
Catch Angel Ram in her up-coming shows and gigs and gauge her performance if the pain and heartaches within her still show.
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