The people across the street

These people across the street, they do not call for help, not directly. I walk on, and try not to look back. I am too embarrassed to walk with them.


Edward Weston, Nude, 1936 (227N)

Taft Avenue, Manila - I have just descended from a cab. The 10-peso fare hike for taxis had been in effect since July 24, Thursday. That's on top of the flagdown rate which still remains to be nailed at 30 pesos, despite protests that it should be raised to 35. The 2.50 pesos per kilometer rate for taxis have been requested to be raised to 3 pesos. Previously, my cab driver offered me a cellphone casing made from corduroy. Before I declined his offer, I noticed that there was a variety of cellphone casings lined-up in his dashboard - he was probably trying to sell those things to each customer who would take a seat in his cab. The strategy was innovative, if it works it would give the cab driver additional income. But, I don't think it would help alleviate the additional expenses that will be induced with an imminent oil price hike. Despite the fact that world market oil prices are (supposedly) going down, major oil companies in the Philippines like Shell and Petron will still continue increasing their fuel prices due to previous losses.

Carriedo, LRT - She entered, carrying her son with her, while calling out to an older boy. The boy she was carrying wildly threw a tantrum. I was waiting for either of the two persons in front of me to vacate their seats. The theory of first occupation does not work well for the first train car, where, out of respect, women carrying children are supposed to take precedence on taking a vacant seat. I wasn't disappointed, and for me it was okay to stand for the rest of my train ride - it was okay for me to endure their strange unpleasant stench. I've got it better than them in many ways. The woman looked malnourished, the son she was carrying looked sick (his snot was peeking out his nose), and the other boy she had with her was thin and ridden with bruises. The train took an abrupt stop just as she was pulling her big rucksack close to her feet - how can she manage traveling with two big and bulky bags and two kids, I asked myself - even when she was properly seated, she lost her balance. Her bag skidded, bumping my leg. The train halted and she huddled her child closely with one arm, and her other hand grasped something for support: the nearest being my thighs.

I have reservations against poorly dressed and unpleasantly dirty people. While I do not consider their sight as eye sores and I've got nothing against riding with them in a public transport, I'm not exactly tolerant when I am touched by filthy hands - how arrogant of me, you many think. I managed a grimace which she may have noticed, and I tried my best to put on a face that expresses concern. While she probably paid no heed to whatever I was thinking, she spoke out loud, speaking to no one in particular. Her younger son was bitten by a dog, had a fever and was diagnosed with rabies. They came from Las Piñas, and have had the little boy checked in San Lazaro Hospital, but they could not afford the expensive vaccines and medicines. They are headed for Balintawak, where they would have the rabies sucked off the child. Actually, that folk medicine method is often referred to as "tandok" where the rabies virus is supposedly suctioned out of the victim's body with the use of a carabao horn (or deer horn, or some other animal bone) that's placed on the victim's wound.

The woman, her child suffering from rabies, holds onto hope and plans to bring her child to some quack doctor. She fell silent after mentioning her plans to have the rabies suctioned out of her child's body, and then brought out her breast to feed the crying child. Eyes fixed at her - it was taboo to breast feed your baby in public. I couldn't care less. My mounting irritation was slowly vanishing, as I thought of only one thing: her child was going to die. Rabies is a dangerous and highly fatal disease - the young child will probably die a slow death. I was two stations away from my stop, but I walked away from them - I couldn't bear the thought of her helplessness.

May last year, RA 9482, Anti-Rabies law of 2007 (consolidation of SB 2541 and HB 4654) was approved, albeit unnoticeable. It provides for a multi-agency approach to rabies control and prevention - free anti-rabies vaccination of dogs, the creation of animal rabies surveillance system, and strengthening education and conducting research about rabies, among other measures. I've read about rabies and one important thing stands out: There is no cure for rabies. Tandok is useless, and survivors who have had this form of treatment were just pure lucky that they were not bitten by a rabid dog and that they may have had received proper immunization from the virus. Rabies is one of the serious public health problems in the Philippines - and it's one of the countries with the highest incidence of rabies in the world.*

Monumento Terminal, Caloocan City - I came across a beggar while I was on my way to buy a ticket for my ride home. He crossed my path and tried to block me, but I was good at slipping away. That did not deter him from hounding me, though. As soon as I was seated inside the jeepney, the boy managed to slide the window open and reached out to me with a finger. He kept on poking my back, asking for money, until I skidded forward so he woudn't reach me. Street-wise beggar only stuck his arm further, reaching me even when I was trying hard to evade his filthy fingers (If it wasn't obvious previously, I have something against coming into physical contact with such unpleasant things). In irritation, I slid the window pane and closed it, but not before loudly saying that we're all short for money. I find it hard to part with loose change - I hold by my principle that sharing alms is a way of tolerating and promoting mendicancy.

The boy stubbornly slid the other window pane, and shouted "Bulaga!" (Surprise!). I frowned and we started sliding the jeepney window panes one after the other - me trying to close them out, him trying to pry them open. My fellow passengers apparently disapproved the boy's cruddy behavior, and they started to help me close, and, finally, lock the windows. He appeared at the jeepney's entrance, only to be shunned away by the ticket collector.

It was not long until the jeepney I was riding got filled, and we rolled away from the terminal. The boy winked out of my sight, and he was following some other passenger in the next parked ride.



These people across the street, they walk with me, with us. But they walk alone. Is there nothing more anybody can do besides walking away?
"It's just another for you and me, you and me in paradise." - Another Day in Paradise


*Ranks 6th according to Department of Health Website
Gov.ph News
Inquirer.Net
ManilaTimes.Net