Illustration Credits: Evie Heathcock
Wedged between the Odeon Cinema and a Mexican restaurant on one side of London’s bustling Leicester Square is a small narrow building with a purple facade. If you’re not looking for it, you’d probably miss it, and indeed hordes of tourists walk past oblivious to the delights that lie behind the letters that read ‘JOLLIBEE’. Much like the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters in the Harry Potter series - an ordinary townhouse which appears invisible to the local residents - Jollibee seems to only be visible to the Filipino community in London, or at least that’s what the snaking queue suggests on the day we visit.
Jollibee is a Filipino chain of fast-food restaurants, with thousands of branches in the Philippines, and now in several locations across the world. They first opened in the UK in 2018 in Earl’s Court, an area already home to many Filipino stores and eateries, and in May 2021 they opened their doors in Leicester Square. Jollibee is a fast-food restaurant like no other; alongside classics such as the Yumburgers and fried Chickenjoy is an offering which would leave many Brits bewildered – take Jolly Spaghetti, a sweet Filipino-style spaghetti with chopped hot dog pieces and melted cheese, or the little wrapped parcels of sticky white rice which come with the chicken and gravy. Even the mascot of the chain, a large red grinning bee, named – you guessed it – Jollibee, seems mildly terrifying. Yet there is something about Jollibee which is unmistakably Filipino, and which calls out ‘home’ to the thousands of Filipinos who find themselves living on the other side of the world.
My mother’s Filipino heritage is very much part of my identity and my upbringing, even if in recent years my interest in European cultures and languages has come to overshadow this. We were fortunate enough to be able to visit my relatives in the Philippines growing up, and cousins coming to stay with us for further education in the UK has meant that I feel very much a part of this large and sprawling clan of cousins – even if I still don’t know how any of them are related to each other. Like many others brought up by a Filipino parent abroad, my brother and I are able to understand Tagalog but not speak it, which has resulted in lots of overheard conversations on public transport. My flatmates when I was abroad last year were delighted to find out I cooked far more Chicken Adobo and Pancit Bihon for them than I did Beans on Toast, and woe betide anyone who dares enter my college room with their shoes on.
Going for lunch in Jollibee is like stepping into this warm and buzzing parallel universe; the shouts of the street entertainers replaced by the cackling of Filipino Tita’s (aunts) exchanging the latest chismis (gossip), the cashiers calling out ‘Order number 24, Ma’am, Sir!’, the woman shouting ‘nasaan ka?!’ (‘where are you?’) down her phone in an attempt to locate her husband who has disappeared into the three-storey Jollibee tardis and has found some friends along the way. There’s the group of Filipino students Instagramming their lunch, the group of Filipino day-trippers who have travelled an hour on the train to reach their Chickenjoy, and those of us like myself and the friends we’d gone with – a university friend of Mum’s who also married a British man, amusingly also named John, and her daughter, a fellow ‘half-blood’, if we stick to the Harry Potter references. In many ways it is a perfect encapsulation of the Filipino diaspora, where everyone’s got their place at the table. And it’s the Philippines, so there’s always space for one, two, or twenty more to pull up a chair too.
Last year’s Disney Christmas advert was a beautiful animation of a Filipino Lola (‘Grandmother’), handcrafting the Parol, a traditional star-shaped lantern, with her granddaughter, in a terraced house in a snowy British street. It brought my brother and I to tears each time we watched it, and as it came up on my feed again this year, left me sobbing once more. The opening scene captures the joyous spirit of Christmas in the Philippines, the gentle smile of the elderly Lola reminds us of our grandparents we so dearly miss. It’s a beautiful tribute to the enormous sacrifices made by the millions of Overseas Filipino Workers (OFW’s) to support their families, and a reminder of the importance of family in the Philippines, and especially at Christmas.
As the pandemic drags on and a flight to Ninoy Aquino International Airport remains an unlikely possibility, it seems like it will still be a long wait before a trip to visit our relatives. The legendary Christmas family parties, complete with Tita’s invariably commenting that you’ve put on weight or asking if you’ve found a boyfriend yet, and the New Years’ fireworks which leave the Manila skyline hanging with smog for days after, will have to wait another year.
Until then I’ll be in Leicester Square, queuing up alongside countless others for a gravy-filled taste of the Philippines. Pure ChickenJoy indeed.
Maligayang Pasko sa inyong lahat! (A blessed Christmas to you all!)
