A letter from my Girlfriend (the tricycle ride)

When you’ve been in Manila long enough, every little news is big news, every little problem needs a congressional hearing for a solution. Everything seems magnified. You overreact, over prepare, you simply overdo things. And you get overly paranoid. You read too much and see too much about bombs going off, massacres in the streets, hold-up and kidnappings that even when I go home to my hometown Bacolod, in the midst of familiar faces, I still retain the same paranoia. During my most recent trip over Christmas break, my Manileño boyfriend and I wanted to visit a place we were considering for our wedding. I told him about the beauty of The Lords Prayer Mountain at Ma-ao, Bago City. It’s about an hours travel from Bacolod. Originally we wanted to make it a family trip and get a van to take everyone for a day picnic but our little baby in the house had fever and the more motherly members of the family didn’t want to leave him. And we couldn’t even take the car as they might need it for emergency. As we were home for only a limited time, I was pissed off that our schedule was not being followed, and so I persuaded my boyfriend that we take the bus instead. I argued that we were going to travel with our good friend April who was from that place and that it would be a smooth uneventful ride. It started with the bus ride to the main barrio of Ma-ao. April, coming from that place, was talking with many people she hasn’t seen for a long time. Meanwhile I was trying to stay put, not wanting to hold anything not clean. This was a public bus after all. I was packed with alcohol, alcogel, tissue paper, change of shirts, towel. I brought my own water and little snacks. I took off what jewelry I had being afraid it would instigate a hold-up. I paid the fare in small bills kept in my pocket not wanting anyone to see my original Girbaud wallet in case it would give ideas to novice kidnappers. Did I tell you I tend to over react and over do? We thought that we would get off at the exact place we wanted to visit. What we didn’t know was that we would have to take a tricycle ride for about 30 minutes. The safety-conscious me kicked in and I argued with myself why I insisted on commuting. Born and bred in Manila, my boyfriend totally found it hilarious that the small tricycle was packed to the brim with passengers. There were just two seats that were facing the front. Then two seats running vertically at the back that could seat two on each side. What surprised us was that the part right on top of the wheel could sit one, and the very front of the tricycle was for another, and behind the driver two more could fit. My thoughts were running amok. What if we tip over? What if we get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere? What if someone falls off? The sun was shining so bright that I was worried that I didn’t have sunblock on. My boyfriend was assigned to take the wheel sit beside me and I was holding on to his hand the whole time. But as worried as I was, I have to admit it was a scenic ride going from one passenger’s stop to another. There were mountain sights, waterfalls, private resorts, beautiful flowers by the road. Beside me was a lola who was about 60 years old. During the entire ride she was clutching close to her breast a small plastic of local bread she bought from the market. She was afraid to put if down, fearing she might forget about it and disappoint her granddaughter waiting for her pasalubong. She told us that the mother of the child has gone off to work abroad and that she was the one taking care of the two year old. At the back riding with April was a younger woman. Instead of taking in two more passengers, she instead paid for the spaces because she had a sack of cement to bring home. In our little talk we found out she was a domestic helper from Manila who has come home and was fixing up her family’s little house. She very proudly informed us that she has gotten as far as making cemented walls instead of nipa. When we came to her house, we saw a couple of men doing the cement work. She introduced them as her father and older brother. They were happily working and keeping them company was loud music from a karaoke unit which the young woman proudly pointed out as her early Christmas gift for her family. Riding at the very front of the tricycle was an old man. He was a bit grumpy and even told off my boyfriend who was hoping to get a more comfortable position in the cramped tricycle. But soon the lolo was telling us that he just came from selling the pigs he has raised. He said the money was for their Noche Buena. Apparently there was a total of four families living in their little hut, having taken in his children, their spouses and kids. A total of twenty mouths to feed on Christmas eve. Behind the driver was a young man who had bloodshot eyes and who was keeping quiet most of the ride. From what we gathered from the driver who was familiar with him, the teenager came from an all night drinking and has yet to get home. Ah the fun of youth and life without cares. It reminded me of my earlier years. When the young man got off, he didn’t even have any money for his fare, didn’t even thank the driver for the free ride. The driver shouted to the older woman who opened the door for the teenager. He said he’d be back to collect the fare later that day. When the teenager got off it was only then that I noticed the smallest passenger we had with us. A girl so small I thought she was only 5 years old, but only to find out she was already 10. She was holding tightly to a bag full of baby clothes. Her 3 year old brother was admitted in the barrio hospital for asthma and her mother was taking care of him. The little girl was bringing home some laundry and explained she had to go back with fresh clothes and their lunch. When we got to our stop, the caretaker of the place knew the driver and asked about his wife who was pregnant with twins. And for the next few minutes, our friend April was telling him about her own twin daughters now 7 years old. They were talking about what to expect from the pains of childbirth to the different personalities the twins have to the topic about the infinite bond twins share. I looked at my boyfriend whose hand I was tightly clutching. I thought about our lives in Manila, our big plans for the wedding, our applications for jobs abroad. All these seemed so complicated compared to the stories of the people we’ve just met. In this backward town where life is so simple, there is much to learn and such warm friendship to share when you take a tricycle ride. It was a wonderful experience to hear from the people who were not afraid to share their lives and themselves, how their simple joys become great joys for them, how big problems don’t even seem to depress them. For that brief 30 minutes, I enjoyed the experience of being part of that little community of tricycle passengers. Oh life! It could be so simple! The ride was sure as good as the scenery around us.