Looking out of a window, upon waking in the morning, you can tell it is Saturday without consulting a time piece or a calendar. Already, the familiar mother with her two-year old child astride her side is already looking through lined up garbage bins put out the night before by residents for scheduled garbage collection. Like other Saturdays, she hopes to find thrown bottles, tin cans, cardboards, paper bags … anything useful or recyclable that could be sold. On another end of the street way, two lanky and disheveled boys compete with her speed. Like her, they scout for disposed furniture pieces, leftover metal from construction projects, and the like. Like flies or ants attracted by a certain object, they double or triple in number and crowd the neighborhood. A day’s find might generate Php200.00 … enough for a kilo of rice, some vegetables and fish god for a family’s day meal. You surely could appreciate their resilience and motivation to get up every possible day they are able to get going, and to live up to the potential of every waking day.
Friday, June 19, 2015
Backbones: Scavengers
60 …
Looking out of a window, upon waking in the morning, you can tell it is Saturday without consulting a time piece or a calendar. Already, the familiar mother with her two-year old child astride her side is already looking through lined up garbage bins put out the night before by residents for scheduled garbage collection. Like other Saturdays, she hopes to find thrown bottles, tin cans, cardboards, paper bags … anything useful or recyclable that could be sold. On another end of the street way, two lanky and disheveled boys compete with her speed. Like her, they scout for disposed furniture pieces, leftover metal from construction projects, and the like. Like flies or ants attracted by a certain object, they double or triple in number and crowd the neighborhood. A day’s find might generate Php200.00 … enough for a kilo of rice, some vegetables and fish god for a family’s day meal. You surely could appreciate their resilience and motivation to get up every possible day they are able to get going, and to live up to the potential of every waking day.
Looking out of a window, upon waking in the morning, you can tell it is Saturday without consulting a time piece or a calendar. Already, the familiar mother with her two-year old child astride her side is already looking through lined up garbage bins put out the night before by residents for scheduled garbage collection. Like other Saturdays, she hopes to find thrown bottles, tin cans, cardboards, paper bags … anything useful or recyclable that could be sold. On another end of the street way, two lanky and disheveled boys compete with her speed. Like her, they scout for disposed furniture pieces, leftover metal from construction projects, and the like. Like flies or ants attracted by a certain object, they double or triple in number and crowd the neighborhood. A day’s find might generate Php200.00 … enough for a kilo of rice, some vegetables and fish god for a family’s day meal. You surely could appreciate their resilience and motivation to get up every possible day they are able to get going, and to live up to the potential of every waking day.
Backbones: Street Sweepers
59 …
Clad in their government-issued long-sleeved yellow cotton shirts, they are dropped off, a few of them at a time, at every block or so of the “Baranggay Unit” to which they are assigned. Without gloves and pollution-barrier masks, they get off a utility van, and equipped only with a broom and a dust pan, they begin to walk, sweep, and pick up litter uncaring passersby have thrown down shared paths. They do not openly mind the sun already at the peak of the day’s heat. They sweat torrents as hours pass, but they are relentlessly focused at their game keeping the street ways pleasant and free of trash … for at least half a kilometer or so. They know that they would perhaps repeat going through the same spaces, tidying them, again, and again, and until the sun sets.
Clad in their government-issued long-sleeved yellow cotton shirts, they are dropped off, a few of them at a time, at every block or so of the “Baranggay Unit” to which they are assigned. Without gloves and pollution-barrier masks, they get off a utility van, and equipped only with a broom and a dust pan, they begin to walk, sweep, and pick up litter uncaring passersby have thrown down shared paths. They do not openly mind the sun already at the peak of the day’s heat. They sweat torrents as hours pass, but they are relentlessly focused at their game keeping the street ways pleasant and free of trash … for at least half a kilometer or so. They know that they would perhaps repeat going through the same spaces, tidying them, again, and again, and until the sun sets.
Backbones: Cable Guys
58 …
From where I stood waiting for a tricycle to drive me out to the main road, two-member-team cable guys pull over across a corner of a four-way street close enough to a spot I could observe their comings and goings. For starters, they park their truck next to a light post already jumbled with electrical lines, and then they pull out from their truck a tall, collapsible ladder. Amused by the thought of a work team ready to get on a job, I watched and waited for them to get back on their truck, pull out safety gloves, hard hats, and safety caution signs. I was shocked that they did not bother to protect themselves or put signage that would alert busy strolling passersby and now busily moving vehicles. I was even more shocked that folks went around them automatically. What if a live electrical line accidentally falls? What if one of them makes a mistake cutting, re-routing a cord, and it lights up? Only in a remote Manila corner would I see such an operation!
From where I stood waiting for a tricycle to drive me out to the main road, two-member-team cable guys pull over across a corner of a four-way street close enough to a spot I could observe their comings and goings. For starters, they park their truck next to a light post already jumbled with electrical lines, and then they pull out from their truck a tall, collapsible ladder. Amused by the thought of a work team ready to get on a job, I watched and waited for them to get back on their truck, pull out safety gloves, hard hats, and safety caution signs. I was shocked that they did not bother to protect themselves or put signage that would alert busy strolling passersby and now busily moving vehicles. I was even more shocked that folks went around them automatically. What if a live electrical line accidentally falls? What if one of them makes a mistake cutting, re-routing a cord, and it lights up? Only in a remote Manila corner would I see such an operation!
Backbones: Painters
57 …
After coming to an agreement on a job to paint my townhouse inside and out, my brother-contracted painters arrived at 8:30 every day … sharp! They came and knocked at my door for six days, beginning Tuesday. They went on a daily routine of check-in, work, smoke-break, work, lunch, smoke-break, and work a little more until 5:30 early evening. The third day of that week, which I thought was just odd, actually went worse than weird. At 5:30 PM, they did not start to clean-up like they did the previous days. I did not say anything thinking they just must want to put an extra mile to the job on hand. They went on working until about 7:30, and then finally came to stop to clean up. “You worked later today,” I remarked, as I handed to the foreman the wage for the day. He retorted, “Yes, and you must pay us two hours overtime.” My jaw dropped. I did not see that coming! I should never assume what seems just way of doing business … in Manila!
After coming to an agreement on a job to paint my townhouse inside and out, my brother-contracted painters arrived at 8:30 every day … sharp! They came and knocked at my door for six days, beginning Tuesday. They went on a daily routine of check-in, work, smoke-break, work, lunch, smoke-break, and work a little more until 5:30 early evening. The third day of that week, which I thought was just odd, actually went worse than weird. At 5:30 PM, they did not start to clean-up like they did the previous days. I did not say anything thinking they just must want to put an extra mile to the job on hand. They went on working until about 7:30, and then finally came to stop to clean up. “You worked later today,” I remarked, as I handed to the foreman the wage for the day. He retorted, “Yes, and you must pay us two hours overtime.” My jaw dropped. I did not see that coming! I should never assume what seems just way of doing business … in Manila!
Backbones: Magmamani
56 …
Lanky, no more than 4.9”-tall, Amelia is seriously roasting peanuts in her Pedicab-Stall-Cart. She is set up at a corner street way fronting a 7-Eleven Convenience store. I approach her and start a friendly conversation while she prepares my peanut orders. Amelia tells me life is hard in metro-Manila, but she and her three kids get by with the help of her chosen snack to peddle. With only an investment of Php900.00 (roundabout twenty dollars), she is able to daily net Php600.00 on a bad sale day, to Php2000.00 on a good sale day. With profits, she is able to pay basic bills, put food on the table, and clothes on her family’s backs. She is also able to send Anton, seven, to first grade; Don, four, to pre-school, and William, two, to daycare. She tells me as well that peddling is really a good living were it not impeded by time-to-time fines from police who tells her she could not squat at the corner street and peddle her peanuts. I tell her I was sorry she must deal with ordinances and laws, and thanked her for her resilience and determination to serve her family. I bid her goodbye and munch my freshly roasted peanuts. It surely satisfied my hunger!
Lanky, no more than 4.9”-tall, Amelia is seriously roasting peanuts in her Pedicab-Stall-Cart. She is set up at a corner street way fronting a 7-Eleven Convenience store. I approach her and start a friendly conversation while she prepares my peanut orders. Amelia tells me life is hard in metro-Manila, but she and her three kids get by with the help of her chosen snack to peddle. With only an investment of Php900.00 (roundabout twenty dollars), she is able to daily net Php600.00 on a bad sale day, to Php2000.00 on a good sale day. With profits, she is able to pay basic bills, put food on the table, and clothes on her family’s backs. She is also able to send Anton, seven, to first grade; Don, four, to pre-school, and William, two, to daycare. She tells me as well that peddling is really a good living were it not impeded by time-to-time fines from police who tells her she could not squat at the corner street and peddle her peanuts. I tell her I was sorry she must deal with ordinances and laws, and thanked her for her resilience and determination to serve her family. I bid her goodbye and munch my freshly roasted peanuts. It surely satisfied my hunger!
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Pests
55 ...
"Scream!" It is all you could do to unleash your panic-fear upon opening a cupboard and being frozen by a mouse staring at your face. How did it get there? The doors were tightly closed, were they not? You do your best to calm your nerves and begin thinking quickly of how to catch and rid of the sickening, rabid-potential creature. You slowly take out contents of the shelf. You wonder, "Where could it hide?" You see nothing at first, but it becomes obvious to you that perhaps, just perhaps, that one corner box housing an unused container could be the one it uses as nesting/hiding spot. You have no recourse, but take the hair-raising task. You take an old ladle and use it to poke open the suspected nest-box. Eeeeewe! You were right all along. Not one, but four tiny and starving mice have housed themselves in the corner-most section of the box. With strong resolve, you take the boxed-in mice out of your cupboard and strike them violently to death and get done with their menacing germs and threat!
"Scream!" It is all you could do to unleash your panic-fear upon opening a cupboard and being frozen by a mouse staring at your face. How did it get there? The doors were tightly closed, were they not? You do your best to calm your nerves and begin thinking quickly of how to catch and rid of the sickening, rabid-potential creature. You slowly take out contents of the shelf. You wonder, "Where could it hide?" You see nothing at first, but it becomes obvious to you that perhaps, just perhaps, that one corner box housing an unused container could be the one it uses as nesting/hiding spot. You have no recourse, but take the hair-raising task. You take an old ladle and use it to poke open the suspected nest-box. Eeeeewe! You were right all along. Not one, but four tiny and starving mice have housed themselves in the corner-most section of the box. With strong resolve, you take the boxed-in mice out of your cupboard and strike them violently to death and get done with their menacing germs and threat!
Sharks
54 ...
“Sharks” of all colors and kind roam the city. There are market sellers that push their ware at all cost. They shove what they sell into your face, and they trail you until you get exasperated by their annoying presence and insistence. There are loan sharks that bite you hard and pick on your desperate needs. They smooth talk you into taking something you don't really need, like telemarketers who prey on senior citizens' vulnerable decision-making. There are hoteliers that sweet-talk potential clients to take as much of their promos and then they slip in your bill, clauses that would make you cringe. And then, there are those so called family who feed on your good side; they butter you up until you become careless with resource fund lending/borrowing schemes they present you with. That gives the worst feeling because you get stymied by their endless excuses over payback. "Scram!" I say to all. "Leave me alone!"
“Sharks” of all colors and kind roam the city. There are market sellers that push their ware at all cost. They shove what they sell into your face, and they trail you until you get exasperated by their annoying presence and insistence. There are loan sharks that bite you hard and pick on your desperate needs. They smooth talk you into taking something you don't really need, like telemarketers who prey on senior citizens' vulnerable decision-making. There are hoteliers that sweet-talk potential clients to take as much of their promos and then they slip in your bill, clauses that would make you cringe. And then, there are those so called family who feed on your good side; they butter you up until you become careless with resource fund lending/borrowing schemes they present you with. That gives the worst feeling because you get stymied by their endless excuses over payback. "Scram!" I say to all. "Leave me alone!"
33rd Remembrance
53 …
From independent to blended lives, marriage takes a skillful dance of minds and unpacking habits, emotions, and idiosyncrasies. You cannot start from scratch. You bring on point to the table of a new life together all that you know and those of which you are ignorant. Day by day, you learn about one and the other’s ways of doing things, even the minutest ones. You learn to bring up ideas that are safe or unsafe, significant or unimportant. You learn to bring them up in the right time, and you learn to suffer the consequences of bringing up issues of unimportance, and enjoy the delightful results of issues bearing great substance. You discover perks of going home to the same person and joys of laughter the other person puts in your life. You learn to get supportive of the other’s endeavors no matter how small it could be. You learn to faintly ignore one’s annoying mannerisms. You begin to appreciate all the efforts contributed to keeping and making a house a home. You learn the true meaning of love for one and the other when disappointing circumstances happen and you realize there is that other person sitting with you, standing beside you, embracing you and comforting you. Best of all, you learn that no matter what happens, the other person who pledged to love you would be truly there for you in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer whether it be the first, the seventh, the sixteenth, the twenty eighth, and yes, the thirty third year and counting … of your life together!
From independent to blended lives, marriage takes a skillful dance of minds and unpacking habits, emotions, and idiosyncrasies. You cannot start from scratch. You bring on point to the table of a new life together all that you know and those of which you are ignorant. Day by day, you learn about one and the other’s ways of doing things, even the minutest ones. You learn to bring up ideas that are safe or unsafe, significant or unimportant. You learn to bring them up in the right time, and you learn to suffer the consequences of bringing up issues of unimportance, and enjoy the delightful results of issues bearing great substance. You discover perks of going home to the same person and joys of laughter the other person puts in your life. You learn to get supportive of the other’s endeavors no matter how small it could be. You learn to faintly ignore one’s annoying mannerisms. You begin to appreciate all the efforts contributed to keeping and making a house a home. You learn the true meaning of love for one and the other when disappointing circumstances happen and you realize there is that other person sitting with you, standing beside you, embracing you and comforting you. Best of all, you learn that no matter what happens, the other person who pledged to love you would be truly there for you in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer whether it be the first, the seventh, the sixteenth, the twenty eighth, and yes, the thirty third year and counting … of your life together!
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Friendships
52 …
What is it about our positive connections with others that make us so very beautifully and comfortably at peace within? It is almost as if our hearts are welded one with the other, and no hurt could penetrate such an awesome feeling. It is also much like glue that binds us so that even though we are physically apart, even though we are miles and oceans away, we could feel the rhythms of our breath, our laughter, and our voices. It is also similar to our hearts being congenitally connected at birth pining, wishing, and beating in tandem with one and the other. Our friendly connections allow us to pick up always, and at any time our carefree or meaningful conversations, our grand hopes, our best wishes and our deepest sorrows for each and every single person with whom we have invested time and built heavy or light aspirations in both our work paths and family lives. Friendships must be the one best thing in life that keeps us returning to the circles over and again. We could not have enough connections with dear friends ever, so we make time and opportunities to bond matter strongly and highly whenever they are there for our taking. We are fortunate to find and live our lives with friends!
What is it about our positive connections with others that make us so very beautifully and comfortably at peace within? It is almost as if our hearts are welded one with the other, and no hurt could penetrate such an awesome feeling. It is also much like glue that binds us so that even though we are physically apart, even though we are miles and oceans away, we could feel the rhythms of our breath, our laughter, and our voices. It is also similar to our hearts being congenitally connected at birth pining, wishing, and beating in tandem with one and the other. Our friendly connections allow us to pick up always, and at any time our carefree or meaningful conversations, our grand hopes, our best wishes and our deepest sorrows for each and every single person with whom we have invested time and built heavy or light aspirations in both our work paths and family lives. Friendships must be the one best thing in life that keeps us returning to the circles over and again. We could not have enough connections with dear friends ever, so we make time and opportunities to bond matter strongly and highly whenever they are there for our taking. We are fortunate to find and live our lives with friends!
Turns
51 …
You decide to embark on that Light Rail Transit, (LRT) adventure you have postponed taking every time you get to Manila. You tell yourself, “It is now or never!” Besides, it is the logical thing to do that very minute, transport-wise. Afterall, you had wanted to discover how to get home the fastest, safest way from one spot of the city to another, like that route of SM-Marikina via LRT-Santolan Station to your desired destination. So ... you look around with trepidation. As you step into the station, you observe where all needing a ticket pass line up, and so you take your spot in the queue. Now that you have the coveted pass, you ask, “Where do I go next?” You spot the signage which tells you to head one floor up or down, and eureka … you get at the right train stop. You inquire from those around you that the train is really headed where you want to be … down Recto Station. Assured, you heave a sigh of relief. The train arrives, finally. It is, to your prejudiced surprise, clean and well-tended. With passengers settled, the train moves, but at several points, it makes a stop. After four more stops, it gets to your destination. No sweat. You get where you want to be, but then again, you push an idea and convince yourself, “Why don’t I try the connecting line closest to the bus station where I could catch a bus or a jeepney?” You follow your gut. You ask around for the connecting train ticket booth. You do not get a straight answer, but after a frustrating trek up and down, left, right forward and back, you get to at last pick up the ticket for the next ride, and then get in the correct line for your desired train stop. “Almost there!” you tell yourself. Shortly, the train arrives. It is a bit crowded when you get in; a gentleman fortunately offers his seat to you. You don’t have to stand all the way, afterall. “Almost there,” you cheer yourself, and true enough, after about twenty minutes, you get to the final stop, only to feel uneasy once you get off. You took the wrong turn out of the station! What a mess! The afternoon rains, as if on cue, poured in torrents while you are in the center of Baclaran Market stalls! “Horrors,” you quietly scream, but you couldn’t look scared because right and left, there might be dangerous souls lurking and could be at the ready to pounce on you. In a maze, you get frustratingly caught for a good half an hour until you spot a peace/safety officer. You tell him you must get to a transport station heading for Las Pinas City. He tells you the way out. You follow it down to the minutest detail. Finally, you spot the sky fresh from the afternoon rain. You get excited and relieved. Out from the maddening voices of sellers wanting you to buy what they’re peddling, you hear that familiar voice of a jeepney route bouncer calling for passengers headed every which way. You ask him for directions. He tells you to wait right at the spot you were standing for that specific jeep which will take you home. You stay put. At last, you see one jeep with a familiar signage, SM South Mall, Alabang. You flag it down, get on it, and get settled. You finally feel that peace you longed all the way. Strange and unfamiliar turns did inject fear throughout the adventure, but you conquered them all! You thank your God first, and then tell yourself once again, “You are one fortunate soul; you did well in spite of many twisted turns!”
You decide to embark on that Light Rail Transit, (LRT) adventure you have postponed taking every time you get to Manila. You tell yourself, “It is now or never!” Besides, it is the logical thing to do that very minute, transport-wise. Afterall, you had wanted to discover how to get home the fastest, safest way from one spot of the city to another, like that route of SM-Marikina via LRT-Santolan Station to your desired destination. So ... you look around with trepidation. As you step into the station, you observe where all needing a ticket pass line up, and so you take your spot in the queue. Now that you have the coveted pass, you ask, “Where do I go next?” You spot the signage which tells you to head one floor up or down, and eureka … you get at the right train stop. You inquire from those around you that the train is really headed where you want to be … down Recto Station. Assured, you heave a sigh of relief. The train arrives, finally. It is, to your prejudiced surprise, clean and well-tended. With passengers settled, the train moves, but at several points, it makes a stop. After four more stops, it gets to your destination. No sweat. You get where you want to be, but then again, you push an idea and convince yourself, “Why don’t I try the connecting line closest to the bus station where I could catch a bus or a jeepney?” You follow your gut. You ask around for the connecting train ticket booth. You do not get a straight answer, but after a frustrating trek up and down, left, right forward and back, you get to at last pick up the ticket for the next ride, and then get in the correct line for your desired train stop. “Almost there!” you tell yourself. Shortly, the train arrives. It is a bit crowded when you get in; a gentleman fortunately offers his seat to you. You don’t have to stand all the way, afterall. “Almost there,” you cheer yourself, and true enough, after about twenty minutes, you get to the final stop, only to feel uneasy once you get off. You took the wrong turn out of the station! What a mess! The afternoon rains, as if on cue, poured in torrents while you are in the center of Baclaran Market stalls! “Horrors,” you quietly scream, but you couldn’t look scared because right and left, there might be dangerous souls lurking and could be at the ready to pounce on you. In a maze, you get frustratingly caught for a good half an hour until you spot a peace/safety officer. You tell him you must get to a transport station heading for Las Pinas City. He tells you the way out. You follow it down to the minutest detail. Finally, you spot the sky fresh from the afternoon rain. You get excited and relieved. Out from the maddening voices of sellers wanting you to buy what they’re peddling, you hear that familiar voice of a jeepney route bouncer calling for passengers headed every which way. You ask him for directions. He tells you to wait right at the spot you were standing for that specific jeep which will take you home. You stay put. At last, you see one jeep with a familiar signage, SM South Mall, Alabang. You flag it down, get on it, and get settled. You finally feel that peace you longed all the way. Strange and unfamiliar turns did inject fear throughout the adventure, but you conquered them all! You thank your God first, and then tell yourself once again, “You are one fortunate soul; you did well in spite of many twisted turns!”
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