"nihita sad sa mga tao ron oi..."
rommy wipes off the sweat from his forehead. he's waited an hour at the ayala terminal for his turn. he counts the passengers in his little multicab. 1 up front, 8 on the right side, 7 on the left. one more, and they're ready to go.
he scratches his head. "nahurot siguro ila kwarta pag sale niaging semana," rommy says to himself.
a girl in a pink blouse and pink perfume arrives. she looks at the multicab's route number, 03Q, then at the passengers. she frowns, realizing she won't be able to get to sm comfortably.
"masulod pa na 'day. walo-walo man ni." all the passengers stare at her. the still frowning girl hesitates, then steps gingerly inside.
rommy knocks on the left side of his multicab. "sikit-sikiti lang na ninyo 'day, para makapalit sad ta'g bisag usa ka luha sa ginamos", rommy chuckles. the girl finds a tiny space materialize between a fat sweaty man and an old woman embracing her bag of groceries, just enough for one cheek of her butt to sit on, and yet manages to break the laws of physics and squeeze herself in.
satisfied, rommy gets into the driver's seat, then turns to the lone passenger beside him, "naa kaha na no? usa ka luha sa ginamos? wa pa ko kita ana da..." the passenger laughs under his breath and gives him a faint smile, then resumes checking his hair from the side mirror.
rommy turns on the engine, and they're off.
they reach the first crossing of his jeepney route. they are about to turn left when the green light quickly turns yellow, then red. rommy hits the brakes. the scorching three o'clock sun is now glaring directly in front of them.
"pagkainita!", rommy exclaims to the passenger beside him, who has now taken rommy's copy of yesterday's super balita tabloid to shield his face from the heat. rommy continues, "gahapon, pirti sad kusoga sa uwan. gabaha gud didto", pointing a finger to his left. the passenger is fiddling with his cellphone, but rommy does not notice. the light turns green again.
when they reach the carmelite monastery, rommy hears the ring of metal striking metal. rommy stops. "bayad noy", and a hand pokes through the little hole behind him, handing him the fare of three passengers, who are now slowly getting off this sardine can on wheels.
they continue on their way. rommy then sees a middle aged couple on the side of the road. he slows down and yells "SM!". they ignore him. "batia rutaha oi, di man sad ta ka pick up!", he grumbles.
they pass by a gas station displaying its prices. "mayra gyud ni ubos na ron ang krudo," says rommy to the passenger beside him, and finds him nodding his head. but then he notices wires oozing out of the guy's ears, a pod person in his own disconnected world. "haaay," rommy sighs.
they reach the stop at mabolo church. a man carrying a wooden box bristling with opened cigarette packs approaches. rommy waves at him, and buys a lone cigarette.
waiting for the light to turn green, rommy slowly rolls the cigarette in his fingers. he reads the word printed on it: HOPE. he takes it to his nose and smells it. he inhales the sweet smell of hope deep into his lungs, hope that when lit, the smoke will carry him the rest of the day. he inhales it again, savoring the sweetness one more time. he smiles.
the light turns green, and they proceed. they soon reach the sm jeepney terminal. the passengers steadily exit the jeepney. rommy finds an empty spot in the terminal, parks his jeepney there, and gets off.
standing beside his jeepney, rommy now finds himself alone with his cigarette. he lights it, puts it to his mouth, closes his eyes, and takes a deep slow drag. he relishes the rush of smoke in his lungs, concentrates on the experience of the cigarette, waiting for the calm satisfaction to envelope him, but then...
but then there is a sudden spasm in his lungs, and rommy coughs. and coughs. and coughs. rommy coughs till he has no strength left.
rommy opens his eyes and realizes he's never felt so tired all his life: tired of sweating, tired of waiting for his jeepney to fill up, tired of grumbling passengers, tired of red lights, tired of the three o'clock sun, tired of yesterday's super balita, tired of the rain, tired of the sound of metal striking metal shrieking at him to stop, tired of his jeepney route, tired of nobody listening to him, tired of coughing, tired of just plain hoping... tired of ginamos. rommy is tired.
rommy hears a creaking behind him. one by one, passengers start filling up his multicab on their way back to ayala. in less than 5 minutes, it is full. rommy gathers what strength he has left and once again gets into the driver's seat. he still has passengers to ferry. he still has a jeepney to drive.
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this is an attempt at flexing my writing muscles to get myself into the groove, inspired by a jeepney ride i had from ayala to sm one saturday afternoon. i also happened to make a cameo appearance here somewhere hehehe guess where i was! ;)
comments/suggestions are very much welcome :)
