September 11, 2007
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 sheep in my dreams. The jeepney room wasn't full and
wasn't empty. I sat 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
struck 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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