It is 6 o’clock on a Monday morning, and I have just returned home from Edsa, where my youngest son is driven every day to catch the southbound MRT that will take him to his job in corporate Makati.
As I habitually wake up at 4 a.m., apart from catching up on my reading, I also take this time as an opportunity to spend some precious minutes to bond with this son, who usually comes home late at night, when sleep has taken over me.
On the way, we get to talk mostly about his job, what he had for dinner at which resto, what latest films he has seen and with whom; the Holy Week movie his father and I had viewed last night while holding hands.
The way to Edsa MRT station makes this retiree witness the early morning struggles of the commuting sector. Snaking along the narrow stretch of the North Edsa sidewalk, mostly coming from the West Avenue or SM direction, is the queue of MRT passengers. Another long line of waiting passengers along the sidewalk across Centris all the way to Channel 7 also awaits its turn to ride the buses that steer their wheels rightward to the appointed stops, with some, I imagine, nearly colliding with transports that don’t stop, yet greedily picking up passengers racing to ride them in the middle of the road.
During our office-working years from the early ’70s to the late ’80s, shuttle buses made available to employees were few and small. Carpooling was a trend among officemates who lived near the same main route. Blue “Love Buses” plied Edsa.
Sympathize
But that was a farther time, with a much smaller commuting population. One can only sympathize with the current generation of workers.
If only the last three decades had seen more anticipative, determined and honest urban planning and building, then perhaps today’s daily 3.5 to 4 million Metro Manila commuters can work stress-free in industrial sites that are more accessible from where they live.
Homeward bound, entering Quezon Avenue toward West Avenue, I have the usual urge to pass my favorite bakeshop to buy some malunggay pan de sal and cheese sticks. The aroma of newly baked bread gives me a feeling of comfort, that we are closer now to home. But as I enter our barangay, my pleasure vanishes when I see a street parallel to ours full of squatter families.
Women with babies in their arms are screaming at their older kids. Some help the menfolk sort rotting beams, plywood, rusty GI sheets, old campaign tarpaulins, and collect whatever is saleable. The squatters are rebuilding their shanties outside the high concrete wall of a factory, two days after they were raided by the police and ordered to move out.
Our driver explains that the reason they were driven away is that among them were confirmed drug pushers and sellers of stolen goods who, despite several detentions, were untiring in the trade. Some can be so bold as to offer their “wares” openly to passers-by in street corners. So why are they back? Can an “understanding” between them and their captors be presumed?
I sigh, remembering my alma mater’s slogan of “truth and charity” so ingrained in my consciousness. At 67, am I still so naive as to wonder what these idealistic values can really do to alleviate the sorry plight of our poor? The problem seems too big to solve.
I believe, however, that truth and charity should be the values guiding our government and private service institutions, including nongovernment organizations, in pursuing their responsibility of providing our poor with adequate means to have income, housing, health and nutrition, education. Living by these values would help untangle the interweaving defects in our society that enable greed, corruption, social and political disunity, and moral bankruptcy to prevail.
Honesty and selflessness
Just how hard is it to adopt some degree of honesty and selflessness in our lives? Could we bring about peace and order and true economic progress to benefit all levels if we unite and cooperate as a society? Or do we need a Lee Kuan Yew style of strict and dedicated leadership at both local and national levels to actualize a good, sincere and well-meaning vision—which, I believe, PNoy has already taken pains to initiate?
We proceed back to my home, which our parish priest described as “the last sanctuary of nature” in our barangay for its still-standing and fruit-bearing trees, a ’60s legacy of seedlings brought from their Bicol farms by loving lolas. I savor the morning peace, calm and solitude in the green space around me, and thank Heaven for the birds who fly overhead and drop Heaven’s seeds on this womb of Mother Earth. Flowering plants give me an undefinable joy as I sit awhile to rest and ruminate on the last hour’s events.
My eyes wander around the four corners of our home, where I’ve arranged on the floors, furniture and walls our collections of art and culture and, yes, memories so hard to let go. On the piano are pictures of our family, relatives and loved ones grown and/or moved elsewhere, some beyond this world.
There are the pictures of my parents, parents-in-law, brother and brother-in-law, surrounding dad-in-law’s ashes in a marble jar atop a narra table. Seeing them reminds me of their loving presence and support.
“To everything, there is a season.” True indeed as I see the shelves filled with my husband’s collection of books, DVDs and CDs now snubbed in favor of the latest iPad and iPod offerings.
Drawings, artworks and paintings by our sons—and mine, too—hang alongside our collections of an Alcala, a Baldemor, a Joya, an E.R.Tagle, a Roco Jr., as well as those given by artist-friends. These collections have served not only to inspire our own creative attempts, but also to widen our knowledge and appreciation of other civilizations and values.
Thinking back on the highs and lows of realities I have experienced within the last hour, there is an indefinable sense of gratitude that fills my soul, and I realize that joy prevails in the spirit for as long as there is space in the human heart for appreciating what are essentially true, good and lasting in this world.
The author is 67, retired and now writes stories for children, with themes about the care of nature and character-building. She says she hopes to have them published and read by as many children as possible.