inside, looking out

my existence these past few months has largely been limited to going to work, going home, going to work, going home, going to work, so on and so forth. even weekends and holidays, much to my frustration.

i work at IT park. and IT park, as most cebuanos know, is a place unto itself. it doesn't feel like cebu at all. echoes of effortlessly american sounding chatter bounce off the walls of the various high rises sprouting all over the place like grass. a porsche or bmw parked outside some trendy new bar or cafe is no longer such an extraordinary thing to behold. and strutting about in their power suits or fashionably casual outfits, specimens of the local subspecie of yuppie go about their day tapping away at their shiny new iPhones or hammering at their macbooks, while wide eyed envelope wielding job seekers stare at these curious creatures, in the hope that they too become part of the herd.

there is an air of possibility to the place. it feels like one huge launch pad, and we are all astronauts headed for the moon (or sinners going to hell, depending on how you look at it).

meanwhile, home is as it should be: home, a shell to retreat in, my own psychological space to shut out the rest of the world, a place away from all the cursing bosses and the horde of irate clients screaming for my head and the dozen or so ticking time bombs that is my job to juggle around before they explode: the projects that i have to manage.

so goes a typical day in the life of kenneth diaz: i go to work, a project explodes in my face, i go home. i go to work, an important client does her best impression of the queen bitch from hell, i go home. i go to work, the boss roars "what f*cking holiday is monday?", i go home.

it's been stressful, to say the least. but here's the thing with stress: when you feel like everything around you is falling apart, when all you get is one disappointment after another, then it becomes too easy to reach the conclusion that the universe has singled you out (and only you) for punishment, that your pain (and no one else's) is all there is to the world.

there's nothing like a quick trip outside to prove that all wrong, though.

2 weeks ago, i took friday off from work, and jumped on the chance to jog on one of my favorite routes, from our house all the way to the 2 mactan bridges.

i'd made good progress. i was now on the last stretch of my run on the 2nd mactan bridge when i saw something odd: a woman squatting on the road. you see, the 2nd mactan bridge has separate lanes for pedestrians, and she was squatting at the edge of the main road with the cars and trucks and buses zipping past her. she was wearing a brown blouse that had seen better days, a long green skirt, a piece of cloth wrapped around her head. and layed out in front of her, were 3 big grey sacks.

this i didn't really mind, until she stood up. for a split second her butt was exposed as she quickly raised her skirt to put her underwear back on. she had just taken a pee... on the side of the road... for all the world to see. she then stood up, dutifully put one sack on her head, took the other 2 sacks, one in each hand, and walked quietly along.

"yes, i am, apparently, still in the philippines," i thought.

i finish my jog and cool off, then head to one of the sari-sari stores near the park at the foot of the 2nd mactan bridge to buy myself some water.

at the sari-sari store, while sipping on a cold bottle of water and waiting for my change, an old man comes up beside me. you could almost read his life story written on his graying hair and his wrinkled face, but it was his eyes that spoke most eloquently: he had the saddest eyes in the world.

the tindera came back with my change, then she asked the old man, "unsa imo noy?" (can i help you sir?)

as if he too had a big grey sack resting on his head, the old man very slowly shook his head. the tindera shrugged and went away. the old man, with his one hand resting on the counter, stood there and eyed the inside of the store the same way moses, after 40 years in the desert, must have looked over the promised land that he'd been forbidden to enter, from the top of the mountain where he was going to die: so near and yet so far, far way.

i fled. i was still catching my breath after a rather punishing jog, and i wanted no part of it. so i fled.

i found an empty bench at the park, with a view of the bridge and the passing ships, and cooled off there. to my left was one bench with a couple, and to my right, another bench with 2 uniformed women who i couldn't help but hear chatting about the sad trajectory of their lives (involving unfaithful boyfriends, troubled siblings, and the neverending struggle for money). another pair of women approached them.

one was an old woman with a bandana, a walking stick on her right hand, and a plastic cup on her left, and she had milky white eyes that seemed to have given up on seeing. she was led by another woman, who led the blind woman by her arm (the one with the plastic cup), and directed the cup toward the 2 women seated on the bench. i heard the tinkle of coins dropping into the cup, and they proceeded to the next bench: mine.

the guide woman then directed the blind woman's cup in front of my face. i looked blankly at the cup, which now had 3 1-peso coins in it, looked at the blind woman, then looked at the guide. i noticed that she had an imperious look on her face, the look of one wanting to know if i had something to give or not, the look of one who did not have the time to plead, the look of a question demanding an answer.

i sat still. i only had enough coins for a jeepney ride home. i just stared at the guide woman, and she stared back.

seeing that i was a lost cause, she motioned to the blind woman, and they moved on to the next bench.

not long after, i also stood up, lingered a bit on the view, and went home... home, where i can shut out the world again... but not really, not anymore, after remembering that there is a world outside of the cursing bosses and irate clients and projects about to explode, that there is a world outside of my own frustrations and pains and heartbreaks, that there is a world outside of me.

to know that you are not alone is relief enough.

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published on the inquirer january 13, 2011 :)
http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view/20110113-314144/World-outside