I'm not performing well lately. My back hurts from excessive computer use. My eyes see things overly bright. My mind is tired of pushing thoughts on things I don't like to think right now. My cheeks sagging into a frown. I feel ugly and useless. But as I pass by on the bridge before going to work, I saw this old foreigner beggar again. Her left foot bruised from some skin illness, her hands carrying a bag of empty C2 plastics. Just before she takes out the garbage I offered a 20 bill. She looked at me, smiled, shook her head and continued her routine of collecting plastic bottles from the garbage bin.
She seems alone with no one to talk to, and yet she is dignified to work without anyone's help.
Stricken with guilt, my day seemed to brighten up.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
The Longest Jeepney Ride Home
The idea of a jeepney ride home at 11pm was uncomfortable for me. I prefer the comfort of the bed with my 2-year old son and my wife beside me while counting sheeps in my dreams. The jeepney room wasn't full and wasn't empty. I sitted at the far left corner. That way I can go down easily by the time I say "para manong".
The jeep stopped in front of the municipal hall. The place wasn't well lit, but the image strucked me like the Juan Luna painting: Homeless people lying down with only carton sheets as their protection against the cold concrete. My attention was grabbed, and looking intently, I noticed that some of them are awake and cheerful. If only one would not consider the atmosphere, you can place their smiling faces in a Fernando Amorsolo's painting. You can tell, by the look of their faces that they were somewhat content and happy.
My mind was about to wander on what experiences placed them on such condition when the jeep started to move. Like the vehicle I rode, my mind simply went to it's usual movement. Thinking about the responsibilities at home, on what book to read, about my son growing up, about the advertisements that passes me by as I rode home.
"Manong bayad. Abot mo nga apo." muttered the voice just in front of me. I thought the old lay was asking me to pass her fare but she was telling it to her grandson. The little boy, who was probably just 6 - 7 years old obeyed without hesitation. I saw the same happiness in them which I just saw a moment ago in the park. They were smiling and they too were beggars. They we're carrying a large sack and two large bags. I was able to confirm my assumption that they were in deed homeless when I eavesdropped a bit and heard that the Lola was asking her grandson where they will probably sleep. They were deciding whether to stay at the park or a dumpster near the park. The boy answered his lola with great spirit that the park won't be crowded and will provide good light for his studies.
My curiosity got the best of me. "San po nagaaral ang apo niyo lola? Smart po siya sumagot." I asked the old lady. She said that her grandson is studying in OCES,an elementary public school. She must've known what I would ask next since she began telling their story.
She said that life wasn't used to be hard. She's got a good son who was the bread winner of the family. Her sole responsibility was to raise and educate her grandson since the boy grew up without a mother. As if life wasn't hard enough for them that her son became so sick and eventually died. Without any other relatives to go for help, Lola was forced to beg for money so as to provide for her grandson. They lost their home and soon found themselves among the beggars near the municipality hall.
I asked her that maybe she can ask for social help from agencies providing social welfare. She shook her head and said that she will provide for her grandson no matter what. She said she will not let the boy stop schooling even if it requires her to beg for more. She said this as if she's just having her usual friendly chat.I was lost in our conversation when her grandson began pulling her grandmother's hands. "Bababa na tayo dito. Nasa Park na Lola."
"Para manong" we both said. Just before she got down I slipped a paper inside her hand, "Sukli daw po", which made her smile. "Kasama ka sa panalangin ko iho", I simply said that her story is worth more than the value I gave her.
The jeep began to move. But my mind stayed with the thought of that old woman and her grandson.
The jeep stopped in front of the municipal hall. The place wasn't well lit, but the image strucked me like the Juan Luna painting: Homeless people lying down with only carton sheets as their protection against the cold concrete. My attention was grabbed, and looking intently, I noticed that some of them are awake and cheerful. If only one would not consider the atmosphere, you can place their smiling faces in a Fernando Amorsolo's painting. You can tell, by the look of their faces that they were somewhat content and happy.
My mind was about to wander on what experiences placed them on such condition when the jeep started to move. Like the vehicle I rode, my mind simply went to it's usual movement. Thinking about the responsibilities at home, on what book to read, about my son growing up, about the advertisements that passes me by as I rode home.
"Manong bayad. Abot mo nga apo." muttered the voice just in front of me. I thought the old lay was asking me to pass her fare but she was telling it to her grandson. The little boy, who was probably just 6 - 7 years old obeyed without hesitation. I saw the same happiness in them which I just saw a moment ago in the park. They were smiling and they too were beggars. They we're carrying a large sack and two large bags. I was able to confirm my assumption that they were in deed homeless when I eavesdropped a bit and heard that the Lola was asking her grandson where they will probably sleep. They were deciding whether to stay at the park or a dumpster near the park. The boy answered his lola with great spirit that the park won't be crowded and will provide good light for his studies.
My curiosity got the best of me. "San po nagaaral ang apo niyo lola? Smart po siya sumagot." I asked the old lady. She said that her grandson is studying in OCES,an elementary public school. She must've known what I would ask next since she began telling their story.
She said that life wasn't used to be hard. She's got a good son who was the bread winner of the family. Her sole responsibility was to raise and educate her grandson since the boy grew up without a mother. As if life wasn't hard enough for them that her son became so sick and eventually died. Without any other relatives to go for help, Lola was forced to beg for money so as to provide for her grandson. They lost their home and soon found themselves among the beggars near the municipality hall.
I asked her that maybe she can ask for social help from agencies providing social welfare. She shook her head and said that she will provide for her grandson no matter what. She said she will not let the boy stop schooling even if it requires her to beg for more. She said this as if she's just having her usual friendly chat.I was lost in our conversation when her grandson began pulling her grandmother's hands. "Bababa na tayo dito. Nasa Park na Lola."
"Para manong" we both said. Just before she got down I slipped a paper inside her hand, "Sukli daw po", which made her smile. "Kasama ka sa panalangin ko iho", I simply said that her story is worth more than the value I gave her.
The jeep began to move. But my mind stayed with the thought of that old woman and her grandson.
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