Nanay Ngiti

I first bought candies and a few sticks of Marlboro when I first met her about a month ago. Her small stall placed in the western-front corner of the provincial capitol park looks pitiful. Not only her box of candies and packs of junk food are in display, so are her loads of clothes (if they are used or laundried, that I can't tell)and blankets.

I thought, she's too old to be on the streets. When you're old you must have some place to go home to and loved ones to take care of you. She doesn't have any of that though she claims to have a lot of friends. Probably, that's the reason why she still manages to smile.

That's why I call her Nanay Ngiti. We have been having light conversations whenever I buy candies from her stall, ranging from politics to her personal life. The thing is, she speaks good English and Tagalog. And maybe, later, I'll found out more.

Somehow, in this world where everything seems so lacking and so frustrating, sometimes, I can't help but become truly sad about people like her who are on the streets.

I've tried to offer her some place where she can stay but she's hesitant because she also needs to earn a living and right at that park, she can do that.

What I've been doing just now is try to buy stuff from her stall instead of buying from someone else. That's probably a small thing but if there's anyone who should be helping her out more, that ought to be that place who owns the park where she sells. It's the job of people out there to help her and her likes.

Shattered Ego

The other night I saw how easily a person can drive another person to become violent. Or maybe, it is love that does that.

Either way, I came so close to losing my cool but maintained it and tried to make everyone calm. It was short of dressing myself up as a clown complete with the overboard lipstick and silly dance. But, should my attempt at trying to be funny in my words did not work, I might have tried that.

It was a good thing that after more than two hours, it became clear to everyone that walking, about three kilometers was better than getting ourselves worked up at the kitchen smoking our lungs out. That was one and a pack of Marlboro gone in two and half hours. Imagine how high our nicotine levels must have been at that time.

So we walked and laughed and talked about silly things. We took pictures at the bridge until my cellphone’s battery went dead. We walked until someone reminded us of the curfew time.

After finishing our empanada and C2, we headed back home at around 1am. Our feet ached and we were so sleepy, we went straight to bed when we arrived.

There were lessons learned that night. Hearts were broken and feelings were hurt. Maybe, it was more than about feelings; an ego was also shattered to pieces, in his own territory. Insults and threats were uttered. But, in the end, everyone managed to cool down afterwards. We all slept with clearer heads.

Hopefully, those lessons will remain; especially for that one person who broke one’s heart and ego. Oh, well, just as he puts it: “Magba-valentine’s pa naman.”