I almost deleted this forwarded e-mail but for whatever reason I was pulled to read it and though it’s long it was worth reading… the fourth paragraph made me cry and uttered my faith to God’s plan for each one of us. I particularly love the last paragraph.
Ever since it was diagnosed that I am having a possible heart enlargement in the last APE, I have exerted more effort to do physical exercises. I do jogging during week days and do long-ride mountain biking every Sunday. But this Sunday is a special Sunday to me. While I was on my way to the mountains of Busay hoping to strengthen my heart by this exercise, instead, I personally encountered a heart-breaking scene that changed me. I already passed the Marco Polo Plaza (formerly Cebu Plaza Hotel) when I decided to stop to buy bananas at a small carenderia located along the road. I haven’t taken any solid food that morning so I need fruits to have the needed energy to get to my destination - the mountain top.
I was almost done eating with the second banana when I noticed two children across the street busily searching the garbage area. Basureros I said to myself and quickly turned my attention away from them to sip a small amount of water. I cared less for these kind of children actually; to make it straight, I do not like them, and I do not trust them evenmore. You see, several times I have been a victim to these kind of children who are pretending to be basureros looking for empty bottles and cans when in fact the plangganas (batya) , kalderos, and hinayhays (sinampay) are their favorites. I remember one afternoon while I was watching a Mike Tyson fight when I noticed that the TV screen suddenly became blurred. I checked outside and saw two young basureros running away with my newly installed antenna. Hatred may be a little bit strong word to describe my feeling towards these basureros, but I do not like them honestly not till I met these three children.
I was about to embark on my bike again when I heard one of the two children, a girl of about 7 or 8 of age saying aloud to the other, a 12 year old boy, "Kuya, kunin mo si Dodong; nakatingin sa mga kumakain, nakakahiya," only then that I noticed a small boy standing near me, biting slightly his finger. He’s a few inches shorter if compared to my 5 year old son (but I knew later that he’s also 5 yrs. old). Though he did not ask for food from anyone in the carenderia, the way he looked at the customers who were eating, enough to convince me that he intensely craving for it. The older boy then quickly crossed the street and gently pulled out the little one who politely obeyed. As I watched the two crossing back the street to the garbage area, I heard the tindera saying "Nakakaawa ang mga batang yan, ang babait pa naman nyan." I learned further from the carenderia owner that the children are from a good family, both parents were working before, and that their father got a stroke 3 years ago and became partially paranalyzed and their mother died of heart attack while their father was still confined at the hospital. The parents were still in their early forties when the catastrophe happened, and the children became basureros since then to meet their daily needs and for their father’s medication.
Deeply moved by what I heard, I went to a nearby bakery and bought 20 pesos worth of bread and gave it to the children who initially refused, including the little boy. "Sige lang Manong, bibili lang kami mamaya kung may nabenta na kami," the young girl said to me. I explained that they need to go home because it started to rain . "Sanay na po kami," the girl answered again. Again, I explained that the rain can make them sick and if they’ll become sick there’s no one to take care of their father. Upon mentioning their father, they nodded and acccept the bread but I noticed that the older boy did not eat. When I asked him if he does not like the kind of bread I bought for them he smiled but as he’s about to explain, the little girl, who is the more talker of them interrupted, "Linggo po kasi ngayon Manong; tuwing Sabado at Linggo, sa hapon lang sya kakain; kami lang ang kakain ng agahan pero di na kami kakain pagdating ng hapon, si Kuya lang. Tuwing Lunes hanggang Biyernes, dahil pasukan, si Kuya lang ang sinisiguro na makakain ng agahan, kami naman sa hapunan lang kakain. Pero kung malakas ang kita namin, kakain kami lahat," she continued. "Bakit di na lang kayo kumain lahat, just share the food however small it is," I countered. The young girl reasoned out that their father wanted that her older brother to go to school with a full stomach so he can easily catch up the teacher’s lessons. "When my Kuya starts to work, titigil na ka kami sa pamamasura. He’s the first honor in school," the little boy added proudly.
Maybe I was caught by surprise or I was just overly emotional that my tears started to fall. I then quickly turned my back from them to hide my tears and pretended to pick up my bike from the carenderia where I left it. I don’t know how many seconds or minutes I spent just to compose myself; pretending again this time that I was mending by bike. Finally I got on to my bike and approached the three children to bid goobye to them who in turn cast their grateful smiles at me. I then took a good look at all of them specially at the small boy and pat his head with a pinch in my heart. Though I believe that their positive look at life can easily change their present situation, there is one thing that they can never change; that is, their being motherless. That little boy can no longer taste the sweet embrace, care, and most of all, the love of his mother forever. Nobody can refill the empty gap created by that sudden and untimely death of their mother.
Every big event that will happen in their lives will only remind them and make them wish for their mother’s presence. I reached inside my pocket and handed to them my last 100 peso bill which I reserved for our department’s bowling tournament. This time they refused strongly but I jokingly said to the girl "susuntukin kita ngayon kapag di mo ito tinanggap". She smiled as she extended her hand to take the money. "Salamat Manong, makakabili na kami ng gamot ni Itay," she uttered. I then turned to the small boy and though he’s a few feet away from me, I still noticed that while his right hand was holding the half - filled sack, his left hand was holding a toy, a worn out toy car. I waved my hands and said bye bye to him as I drove towards the mountains again. Did he just find the toy in the garbage area? or the toy was originally his - when the misfortune did not take place yet? - I did not bother to ask. But one thing is crystal clear to me that inspite of the boy’s abnormal life, he did not given up his childhood completely. I can sense it in the way that he held and stared at his toy.
My meeting with that young basureros made me poorer by 100 pesos. But they changed me and made me more richer as to lessons of life are concerned. In them, I learned that life can change suddenly and may catch me flat footed. In them, I’ve learned that even the darkest side of life, cannot change the beauty of one’s heart. Those three children, who sometimes cannot eat three times a day, are still able to hold on to what they believe is right. And what a contrast to most of us who are quick to point out to our misfortunes when caught with our mistakes. In them, I’ve learned to hope for things when things seem to go the other way. Lastly, I know that God cares for them far more than I do. That though He allowed them to experience such a terrible life which our finite minds cannot comprehend, His unquestionable love will surely follow them through. And in God’s own time they will win.
