sabado nights

this was about 3 saturdays ago

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a generic saturday evening in my neighborhood would involve the following: a few houses away to the left, a murder... no, a massacre is being committed against supposedly popular songs, facilitated in no small part by that evil evil invention: the portable videoke machine. meanwhile, a few meters away in the opposite direction, another house is blasting the night with loud and irritating 80's disco music (with the purpose of driving away evil spirits like we do every new year's eve, i suppose?). and right in front of our house, members of the beer belly club gather for their weekly booze sessions, drinking themselves silly like they had a strong death wish (their motto being: eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die), and as a result causing a racket not unlike what you would hear from a pack of squabbling dogs.

imagine the pain of having to hear "brother louie" playing over and over again in an infinite loop, combined with a rendition of "my way" so horrible that it would make frank sinatra rise from the grave to seek justice by strangling the singer. enduring these torments every weekend may be enough to qualify me for sainthood. that would make me saint kenneth, patron saint of those who suffer from uncivilized neighbors.

but this was not your usual saturday evening. no songs were being massacred. no 80's disco music to wreak havoc upon the night. and the beer belly club was mercifully absent (i hope their wives, or their livers, are telling them to slow things down). it was that rare and pleasant saturday evening, the general peace and quiet allowing me to catch up on my backlog of books. but as to how unusual it would actually be, i had not realized yet.

sir francis drake was about to finish up his attack against a contingent of the spanish armada that was anchored in cadiz when i hear gasps of alarm from the next door neighbor's house. curiosity had gotten the better of me, so sir francis drake took a break for a while. i put my book down and listened. then the word i had always dreaded reached my ears: sunog (fire).

the combination of iced coffee and panic gave me palpitations. i jumped out of my seat, ran out of the room, and looked through the windows on each side of the house. a terrible light brightened the sky north of us. the fire was huge and looked dangerously near. i alerted everyone in the house.

there's nothing like a common threat to galvanize a whole community to action, even though you annoy each other's guts. my mom and my aunt ran outside to gather any news they could get about the fire. calls were made to the local fire department. updates as to the location and status of the fire was broadcast around the neighborhood. and just in case, everybody started filling up all available buckets and containers with water. in that moment of great danger, everyone had suddenly become comrades. how pinoy.

meanwhile, we switched the radio to the AM band and searched for any station reporting the incident. sure enough, an evening news program caught wind of the fire and a reporter was already on site giving a blow by blow account. according to the report, the fire was at a factory just 3 or 4 blocks away. the city's firetrucks were having a hard time getting to it because the street leading to the factory was too tight. right. so what else is new?

the reporter began doing interviews with the factory's security guard and onlookers in the area. by the sound of the it, the security guard, the onlookers and even the reporter himself seemed to be enjoying the spectacle. why... those crabs! just wait till it's YOUR house...

in the face of oncoming catastrophe, i started evaluating my dependence on my possessions. i looked at my books, my pc, my collection of music cds, dvds, toys and gadgets... would i be able to live without all these? i had begun to resign myself to a future without them. i think it was dostoevski who wrote that man is a being who can get used to anything. guess i'll have to get used to losing my stuff.

then the irony of it struck me. how strange it is for us to spend a huge chunk of what little time we have allotted on this earth to accumulate all our possessions, and yet the moment we lose them by circumstances cruel yet indifferent, then will those possessions ultimately bring us nothing but pain. we slave away at our tiny office cubicles to accumulate all this but in the face of our common destiny, it wouldn't matter. we won't be able to bring them with us anyway.

don't be mistaken. i do not advocate a return to the stone age. i just find it oddly poetic that it has to take something catastrophic like a fire or a flood or the specter of imminent death to jar our senses and get our priorities straight. things that we consider bad sometimes do serve a purpose. it's up to us to figure out how to turn it to our advantage.

yet what makes things tragic is when the going gets back to being good, we take advantage of the luxury by turning priorities back to our diverse frivolities. just when we see the light, just when we learn something profound and supposedly life changing, then we forget. we never seem to learn. funny thing this, human nature.

our radio reporter finally comes back on air with an update. a firewall was now blocking the spread of the fire. we were spared! waves of relief wash over me. looks like we won't have to go back to the stone age after all. things begin quieting down in the neighborhood. everybody seems to have lost interest in the fire after hearing the good news. we were all back to minding our own business. so continues the story of sir francis drake and the spanish armada...

and that is how i spent my saturday evening.

but wait... what's that i hear? oh crap, they're singing again. like nero playing the lute while the rest of rome burned to the ground.