At the start of a new year, many Overseas Filipino Workers look at their remittance with a familiar mix of duty and pressure. Bills come first. Family needs follow. What’s left—if anything—often disappears quietly. But for some OFWs in Dubai, that leftover amount became the beginning of something else.
For Chancellor Engr. Li Hosalla Schonberg, the shift happened after years in senior corporate roles. Hired from Singapore and relocating to Dubai with her two children, she entered the UAE workforce at a high level, serving as Vice President for public relations and business affairs. On paper, it was stability. In reality, it was exhaustion.
“I got exhausted and thought of putting a business of my own,” she said. “I always wanted to come up with a business aligned with my passion in technology and education.”
Instead of treating her earnings solely as income to be spent or sent, Chancellor Engr. Schonberg began redirecting resources toward building an innovative education venture. Drawing from what she had seen in Singapore—models that did not yet exist in the UAE—she identified a gap she believed was worth investing in.
“There were a lot of businesses in Singapore that I didn’t see here,” she explained. “I saw the potential and opportunity to develop a business structure and monetize it.”
Her idea eventually evolved into a three-in-one education platform combining curriculum systems, robotics, and programs for children on the autism spectrum. The process, however, was far from smooth. Regulatory requirements, partnerships, and early pitching all posed challenges.
“Before I went to Denmark, I was already pitching this innovative education system—robotics for autism, learning portals, everything,” she recalled. “I made a PowerPoint and sent it to potential partners. When I came back, I found out they had started the same business I presented,” she said, laughing. “But it’s okay. At least I was able to help.”
For Chancellor Engr. Schonberg, reinvesting earnings meant accepting loss, repetition, and delay. “There is no guarantee that everything you put up will be a success,” she said. “You need to be ready to stumble—but also ready to stand up.”
Malou Q. Prado’s relationship with remittance began at the opposite end of the spectrum. She arrived in Dubai with little certainty, moving through various jobs just to survive. “Dumaan ako sa iba’t ibang trabaho—mula sa paglilinis hanggang sa service at sales—para lang makaraos,” she said.
Each paycheck went where it was needed most. Still, those experiences shaped how she later approached business. “Bawat trabaho may itinuro sa akin—disiplina, tiyaga, at respeto sa kahit anong uri ng hanapbuhay,” Prado said. “Doon ko natutunang huwag maliitin ang maliliit na simula.”
The idea of investing her earnings did not come all at once. It emerged gradually, as she noticed gaps in the travel and tourism industry—particularly services that truly understood OFWs.
“Kung may magagawa akong mas maayos at mas makakatulong sa kapwa OFW, bakit hindi ko subukan?” she said.
Capital was limited, and doubt was constant. “Pinakamahirap ang kawalan ng puhunan at tiwala—parehong sa sarili at mula sa iba,” Prado admitted. “May mga araw na nagdududa ako kung tama ba ang desisyon ko.”
What changed the trajectory was consistency. Instead of waiting for ideal conditions, she reinvested whatever she could, learning as she went. “Mas delikado ang hindi pagsubok kaysa sa pagkakamali,” she said.
Today, MPQ Travel & Tourism operates across the UAE, the Philippines, and the United States—but Prado remains clear-eyed about what it took to get there. “Hindi sapat ang pangarap,” she said. “Kailangan ng tamang sistema, malasakit sa tao, at paninindigan sa tamang proseso.”
For Nicolai De Guzman, remittance was never just financial—it was strategic. Arriving in Dubai in 2007, he followed his older brother with little more than ambition and necessity. “Galing kami sa mahirap na pamilya,” he said. “Kung mag-stay kami sa Pilipinas, napakahirap para sa amin na umasenso.”
He spent 14 years building his career in design and advertising, rising from graphic designer to studio director. By the time he left employment, he knew one thing well: employment teaches structure, but ownership teaches responsibility.
When he and his brothers opened IchiRyu Ramen House, the early months were unforgiving. “First three months, wala kaming day off,” he said. “Bussing tables, dishwashing, mopping, cleaning toilets—lahat yan ginawa naming tatlo.”
The long hours were not glamorous, but they were formative. “That’s why we’re so blessed when we found staff who shared the same love for the business,” De Guzman said. “That allowed us to focus on growth and expansion.”
Asked what OFWs should know before investing their earnings into a business, he was blunt. “Kung madali ang negosyo, marami nang nag-negosyo,” he said. “Believing in yourself is the key—but you also need to be willing to learn, adjust, and be consistent.”
Investing differently in 2026
Despite their different paths, all three entrepreneurs reject the idea of instant returns. For Chancellor Engr. Schonberg, entrepreneurship demands “resilience and discipline.” For Prado, it requires consistency and integrity. For De Guzman, it means accepting that plans account for “only 25 percent” of what actually happens.
As 2026 begins, their stories point to a quieter but more practical resolution for OFWs: treat remittance not only as obligation, but as potential. Not every peso needs to become capital. But intention—paired with patience—can slowly turn earnings into equity.
That shift, they show, is where real investment begins.
