No Record

My aunt has been living in the United States for decades now. She helped me and my cousins through college and helped my sister come to the US as well.

Last year, my aunt suddenly decided to try to file a petition for her siblings to come live with her in the US. It was such a marvelous idea my cousins sprang up to apply for their parents’ passports. But the promising world came crashing down on them when they learned their parents have no birth certificates.

Well, how did it happen that two old men near their sixties don’t have any proof of their birth?

It seems like, during that time, women usually gave birth at home and not in hospitals. As soon as the baby came out, the local midwife would ask a neighbor who was going to town to ‘have’ the baby registered at the municipal hall. Now, if this neighbor was not able to do it because he had his hands full of errands and forgot to mention the little detail to the mother, the truth would stay undiscovered until such time as this, getting a passport.

Quite common but undeniably annoying, this is an issue that we can only solve by late registration.

To avoid such inconvenience, I got copies of my children’s birth certificates early on to make sure there was no mistake in names, birthdates, names of parents and so on. Because it may sound funny if it happens to other people but seriously inconvenient when it happens to you..

Accident or Negligence

This happened last year. I decided not to post about it because it made me feel very sad but for some reasons I feel I should, at least to warn other people about it.

Back in our province, washing clothes in the river is still done. One day, this young mother brought her laundry in the river. Since she had no one to leave her son with, she brought him with her. While she was doing the laundry, the boy was playing around, running by the riverbank, picking up pebbles and splashing water.

The mother probably got too busy she didn’t notice that her little boy was no longer around. She waited for a while hoping that he would come running back from his hiding place, but he didn’t, so she started looking for him.

She found his lifeless body several meters from where she was washing. It seems that he slipped on a mossy rock, fell and drowned in the knee-deep water.

If only she found him sooner.. But nobody knows, right?

A Pair of Shoes

Several years ago, I was getting ready for the christening of one of my goddaughters. I was almost ready when I realized I didn’t have nice shoes that would match my nice dress. I felt sorry for myself. If only I had a lot of money I could buy several pairs of shoes to match every dress I wear. But since I hadn’t, my only pair of sensible and old shoes will do.

Then I went out of the house to wait for a tricycle out of the barrio. As I was at the waiting shed, I caught sight of a trio of dirty and big-eyed children walking with, presumably, their mother towards me. I recognized her as one of those who lived in a compound somewhere in the interior of the barrio. All the kids had hollow cheeks. They were skinny and dressed in oversized old shirts and they were, all of them, barefooted.

Knowing how hot and rough the pebbles on the street were, I, impulsively, asked the mother..

“Why are they barefooted?”

“They don’t have any slippers..”

And that was that.

I looked at my old shoes and realized how ungrateful I was a while ago.

The Report Card

This actually happened more than eight years ago but the memory still stings.

I can’t remember which grading period it was but it was the distribution of cards. I took a short bath and rushed off to school hoping to get back to my chores as soon as possible. But of course, it wasn’t as simple as that. When I arrived there were a few parents already there apparently waiting for the class adviser. I sat beside an old woman who was supposed to get her grandson’s report card. Since I don’t talk much with people I don’t know I simply smiled at the old woman who just as simply smiled back at me much to my relief.

After a few more minutes, the teacher came out but announced first that those students who had some unpaid accounts(?), I didn’t know what it was called because it referred to PTA contribution, test paper, etc., would not have their cards released.

So, we approached the teacher one by one and she checked her list if the student is paid or not then handed the report card over. As soon as I got my daughter’s card, I got ready to leave when I heard the teacher talking to the old woman. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I didn’t need to because the voice was loud enough for me to hear. It seems like the old woman’s grandson had some unpaid stuff and that his card was being held until the account was paid.

The old woman simply nodded in understanding then waved for her grandson to come over. She explained that she could not get his report card because of some unpaid things and that she didn’t have enough money to pay it just then, and that as a matter of fact she just walked from home going to school just so she could come.

I’m not, normally, a generous person. I don’t offer help so spontaneously but my heart went out to the old woman. I opened my purse to check whether I had enough money to cover the unpaid amount and thankfully I had with me a few hundred pesos. I don’t usually carry much cash as I don’t expect to buy anything. But when I looked around for the old woman, she was already gone, probably to go home.

I tried to run after her but she probably turned an alley because I didn’t see her at all. I felt sad. I’m not rich. I don’t worship money, I believe that money is the root of all evil,  but I know I need it. But at that time, more than any other, I felt how much difference a few hundred pesos can do. I felt so sad I couldn’t bring myself to be grateful for what I have. It took me a few days before I could finally set aide the memory of the old woman and her grandson. But I never forget it to this day.

Money-Loving People

I like money. Who doesn’t?

But I like it for the things it could buy and for the services it could provide for me and not for what it actually is, pieces of colored paper with the presidents’ faces on them. So, when I met people who love money for the sheer idea of money, I was.. amused?

When I have money, the first thing I usually buy is.. food. I would treat myself to a nice diner and eat. Then, when I’m stuffed, I go to bookstores, preferably one that sells second hand because they are cheaper. I would buy something to read that is good for a month or so. Then, when I still have time, I would go to the department store and shop for clothes, shoes and bags. I usually go home empty-handed. I don’t buy, I just look. Or when I do buy, I usually hunt for the cheapest of all.

Then I met Sophie and Andrea. They are the most hard working people I know. They get up at the break of dawn and go to bed as late as they could. With such unmatchable dedication to work, I wouldn’t be surprised if I find their houses overflowing with stuff they buy for themselves.

They didn’t have any. Sophie doesn’t even have a decent television set. She works like crazy but doesn’t buy anything for herself or for her family. When I ask her what she does with the money she earns, she says she counts them every day. The same goes with Andrea. They work because they love the sight and the feel of money in their hands.

Well.. what do I have to say about that? That’s… individual differences.

Life is Harsh

Last week, we received a text message from the province telling us about a terrible news. One of our neighbors, probably a distant relative, took her own life and that of her three month-old child.

Dying is sad. Killing oneself is three times more so. As the rumors went, the girl had enough of the extreme poverty that battered the lives of almost all the residents in our barrio. With mind apparently clouded by hunger, she woke up early, fetched a pail of water on which she drowned her child before she hanged herself by a rope. Probably unsure she would die instantly, she even stuck a knife on her chest making sure whoever might find her first would not be able to revive her.

People have various reactions. I only felt extreme sadness for the girl. How difficult was life that she chose death over it?

The Good Son

Randy* is a smart boy. He graduated valedictorian both in grade school and high school. Needless to say, friends and relatives have been expecting so much from him.

He took up Architecture and did well in his first year. In his second year, however, he got sick. He missed so many of his lessons that he finally dropped out. He was hoping to reenroll the following year but his father had a stroke and was paralyzed.

When his father was brought home from the hospital, Randy took care of him for the next 13 long years until the old man died.

Old, bony but unbeaten, Randy accepted his siblings’ offer to send him to school. Having completely lost his momentum and interest in Architecture, Randy took up Education and after five years he received his college diploma. He took the board examination and passed making him a licensed teacher.

He’s been teaching in a public school for several years now and has earned the respect of his friends, relatives, colleagues and students. He’s one of the most remarkable people I’ve known in my entire life.

Salute to you, Randy!

*not real name