Jerky Talks: If You Want a Clear Picture

Last week, I frequented Fitness First ABS CBN, which is admittedly harder to reach for me compared to other branches. While I can actually walk ABS CBN from my place, I often lack both the courage and determination to do such a feat, so I instead decided to take two jeepney rides, a route that circumvents the otherwise straight line from my place to ABS if I walked it.

And what I realized during those jeepney rides is that our country is really dipshit poor. I mean, if you want a clear picture of how poor our country is, you don't need to watch any documentaries, or indie films, or go all outreach program sister. You just need to take that jeepney ride on a Christmas season, and, oh, the things you will rubbing shoulders with!

On my count, there were at least 3 envelope givers who went inside our jeepney during one of my jeepney rides. These people will ride the jeepney and give envelopes and plead / oblige you (by means of sad stares) to give money. Most of the times, these are kids, but in one rare case, a couple, around their late teens, rode our jeep and rendered a weird song and hand dance number. I do not understand for a moment why I should give them any money. They are not kids, they are not disabled, and in proper time they would add another child to the population of the country that could not feed itself properly. What was immediately evident was that they are poor--and haven't taken a bath for days. Why should I give my change to them?

On my second ride, there were no envelope givers, but rather, just street kids who need free ride. One of the kids that took that free ride was extremely dingy. He was wearing slippers but his feet were sooty and street-sodden. It was evident that his life has been spent mostly on the streets, learning the tricks of the trade, and in a few years' time, this kid would either be an experienced thief, drug addict, or dead. I cannot imagine how the parents of these kids can allow their children to go through a life like this, hitching jeepney rides and virtually living on the streets. How can one bear a child and let them look like shit? How can there be such a parent?

Everytime I see people like this, I feel sorry for my country, because I know, people like me will not do anything but live their lives and try to get as much money as they could from their time. Enough money to buy comfort and to be able to rear their child well so that one day, children like this one can rob them, or cut them, or rape them, or beat them up. People like me, at most, can only make themselves feel good, feel like they contribute something, by doing charity work on some organizations. And in a way, that is help. But the truth is, no action could ever be enough unless we can find a solution for the people living in conditions like that child. Unless we can find a way to change the mindsets of these people who breed street dwellers, this will just go on and on until the children of our children of our children. Unless we can make sure that hunger, violence, and death does not get ahead of us.

Don't get me wrong, I am not vilifying the poor, they are already doing their best to achieve that. I may perhaps be generalizing too much, but one thing I know for sure, is that this country is poor, and the lines between social strata have not been this clear to me. I am lucky: I have a job and I do not hand out envelopes to eat. I am unlucky, however, to see how poor this country is, and to know just how much faith in the Filipino people I lost in just two jeepney rides.

We are not advancing as whole. Rather, parts of us are, and some of those parts fly where there are less disturbing realities. The rest are left to squander and look for hand-me-downs they could get either by force or by mercy--and eventually starve until they are left with a choice of turning to wrong or dying. And that's just sad to think of while you could not finish your plate because you've already had too much and you want some space for that perfect flan.

I did not enjoy my New Year's Eve dinner so to speak.

Author's Note: You may also want to read the companion story, It's Not my Fault.