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Every day of my life
here at Newtown, I walk a few meters to catch the 907 bus at Margaret St at St
Mary’s College stop. Yes, I’d have to admit, I do look forward to bus rides
here at Toowoomba. It’s lazy time to get your mind off things. Imagine all the
driving that I need to do at Binan and Binan-QC-Marikina. And so, I welcome
having my hands off the wheel and have another citizen of this land do all the
driving4me.
I see my stop, and so there she is again.
The old strong looking lady by the street, watching out for the pedestrian. She
is one woman who must love her job dearly, and does it pretty well I must say. She’d stay
in her place to guard the kids and the traffic so they won’t get into each
others’ way. Not only that…she is pretty strict about where to wait, where to
cross and where cars should stop. And when it is time for her to demand a STOP
by placing that stop sign in the middle of the street, she got everyone’s
attention on her. It’s as if time practically STOPS for her.
One time and to my surprise, I didn’t see
this uniformed lady on the street. Instead, she has donned her pastel colored
top and practical slacks and shoes in place of her heavy uniform. She was
seated at my usual place where I wait for the bus to arrive. She goes on to
talk about her life and seemed to be satisfied with her job. I figure she must have
really found a job she can live with for the rest of her life. And at my age,
which may be closer to her than my M&M’s,
I see myself in her more than the school kids
she takes good care of while crossing the street
So I was thinking, would I have the guts to
trade living my life in the current state of the Phils for this kind of life,
her job and her bit of comfort (& discomfort) in return for the hard work
she puts in. Then I thought, not. In the first place, I simply do not have the
talent nor skill for such immense focus to be on the job for maybe 1.5 straight
hours in the morning under whatever kind of weather. My mind is too restless to
start with. I have too many inner speeches and daydreams. My emotions get the
bit of me on certain days. I would not last long as for sure, I’ll get run over
by a bus.
For a minute there, I stopped and thought,
really thought, gee, for once, why am I even considering this at all. But I did.
For what has become of my motherland
these days.
I hopped on the 907, put on my
shades and tried to stop the tears from falling. Painful tears of a kind I’ve never had b4. It
started a bit last night, then again when I woke up at 6am to see the news.
Everything was there—we are pretty much getting worse by the day. No matter how I try to insulate myself from
the pain and anger, I just can’t. I almost decided against going to school
today. But I thought perhaps walking in the cold would help it all go away.
It didn’t. It just wouldn’t.
This must how Rizal, Bonifacio and Mabini
have felt when they penned their pains in poetry – love for motherland which I don’t even know where this damning kind of love comes from.
But this I know in my heart & trying hard2holdon2: I am meant2b where
I am as this is the only way I intend to live with my choice to keep on being a
Filipino in my homeland. When I get old as this old lady, I shall look back to
these days, and THIS pain, when what I can only hold on to are my M&Ms and my
PhD. This is my way of making sense of what has come upon us. I vow to live
THIS life, and spend the last of my days as Filipino educator, and say
to this f****** leader, IT IS YOU and your f****** kampon who shall die in
vain, NOT I. I shall continue to live, older than this old lady if I have to in order to see that day…to the very end.
How about tweeting those last words in my
Twitter2B profile?
