HOPE FOR THE FILIPINOS
Published in: The Manila Collegian, Vol. 15, No. 6 Date: June 6, 2002
I should have gotten a hint that something was going to happen to me, the moment my Mom gasped at how beautiful her daughter was that morning.
Believe me, it’s not everyday that I get that kind of reaction from her. Certainly, I looked stunning, sophisticated and elite— maybe not too good to be FHM’s sexiest woman of the year but good enough to be two hold-uppers’ victim.
I had a tragic hold-up experience in Manila, whose streets I’ve learned to trust for four years. The crime happened at that place, where I used to do my night walks after watching the last full show and my going in circles trips during the problematic episodes of my life. That day, my gut feel failed me by not choosing either one of the first three jeepneys that passed with the same signboard. I opted for the fourth jeepney to bring me to my destination.
I was actually planning to sit at the back of the driver because I have to ask for directions. Unfortunately, the jeepney was packed with passengers but I managed to find an empty seat near the estribo (jeepney entrance), and yes, across two male youths that will soon emerge as disciples of Satan. I was busy looking for the place where I should be heading, that I did not notice that the two were already checking me out. I got a glimpse of them though but all I could recall was how big and red their eyes were, like the big bad wolf in the Riding Hood tale. Anyone could tell that they were on drugs but I have too much faith on Filipinos so I disregarded the thought that they might cause me harm.
I am actually one of the few who believe that Filipinos are the most kind-hearted people on earth. But after the two guys hailed the jeepney to a stop, pointed the balisong (pocket knife) at me, and grabbed my bag, I knew right then and there that I was fooled by my foolish belief. Damn the Filipinos.
Some people in the jeepney showed superficial concern about what happened. They just gave their comments and pre-observations about the two criminals. Well, damn them. They did not even notify me. They were not even interested to know if I can still go home with all that was left from me which is obviously nothing (well, except for the hundred pesos in my pocket). The Ferragamo bag (which is fake by the way) that the hold-uppers took with them had my wallet with only seventy pesos, and my crap cellular phone as its contents. I was secretly laughing harharhar at the two culprits because what seemed like a goody package did not have anything valuable in it.
I then ordered the driver to bring me to the nearest police station to notify the authority about the incident, with the hope of catching the criminals. I was dropped at the Pasay City Hall, and there I got my second dose of irritation. The policemen insisted that the crime is not their responsibility because it happened in Malate area. I was almost near to tears then but I managed to shot back a few angry words about their response to my report. I told them, “Akala ko PO kasi basta pulis, lahat ng kriminal hinuhuli (It’s just that I thought, policemen go after all criminals).” And then I stormed out and went to Malate police station but I received the same unwelcome treatment. Damn them.
I just left and decided to simply go home and forget about everything. I managed to get to Robinson’s Place despite the paranoia of bumping into the two hold-uppers again. I then phoned my parents about what happened. I was actually expecting worried cries but I got comforting words from my Dad saying that they already knew about the incident and that he is on his way to Manila to get my bag back from those who found it. My initial reaction was to close my eyes and thank God but my second impulse was to cry because of mixed emotions of fear, anger, and relief. I hanged up the phone and it is just then that I realized that I forgot to ask my Dad how he managed to find out about everything. I decided to disregard my confusion and proceed instead to the PGH (Philippine General Hospital) chapel to pray. I’m not really a religious person but I found myself there, asking God to forgive everybody, including myself for letting one incident almost ruin my confidence with my countrymen.
Indeed, miracles do happen.
On our way home, my dad related to me everything that transpired. It was actually the baranggay folks that gave my bag back. They saw the two men with a girlie bag and that was enough for their suspicion to rise. They shouted “Snatchers!” to check their instincts and they got the answer when the two started running away like hell after dropping my bag. The folks then used my cellphone to contact people in my phonebook and they got to talk to my parents.
Now, I have zero pre-paid load from the calls that they made but heck, I don’t give a damn care—I have my bag and all its contents! I am such a lucky kid because I am blessed with good countrymen. This has been proven by my experience of bayanihan (coordinated selfless service) in its modern version. My belief is not foolish after all. There are still Filipinos who unburden themselves with the temptations caused by poverty by helping each other out. There are still Filipinos who exhibit optimism through the smiles brought by their good hearts. There are still Filipinos who make ends meet with dignity taught by the spirit within and above them. As simple as their life might be, they continue to embrace goodness in any way that they can. And they deserve nothing but also goodness in return. Not really in the form of money or reward for they do not demand of such. They ask only for deep gratitude through prayers and most especially hope. This is what I gave and will continue to give back to them.
Mabuhay po kayo.
Okay, now I’m starting to cry again. Damn…er– I mean, alleluia!
