Jeepney Argument

One topic led to another, and eventually to the issue of traffic congestion in Manila. 

“They should just ban all jeepneys, and stop being sentimental about them.”

My face cringed. Someone saw my expression and asked me what I thought of the statement.

“I am a commuter,” I said vehemently. 

Jeepney rider

Another jeepney rider

“I am a semi-commuter also, but jeeps just cause much of the traffic. And of course there is the issue on environment,” a car owner who occasionally commutes said.

I could not take a word more, and tried to compose an argument in my head.

The traffic problem in Manila is not only attributed to the existence of jeepneys. 

Before I could even say anything as if I was ready for some debate, the talk on jeepneys ended, and a new topic emerged.

That brief sharing of opinions gave me a glimpse of how the people around me think on that subject.

Perhaps, if you’re on the driver seat, you see things differently as compared to the things seen from the passenger seat. Perhaps, a driver who has forgotten how to commute and has no recollection of commuting or being poor would not understand why I reacted strongly. 

I will not forever defend the jeeps, but I know very well why I and countless other Filipinos take them. The jeeps are not perfect, this we already know, but unless we have other options, we will keep on enjoying our jeepney rides.

It was a topic so close to my heart that I talked it out to another person later that day. 

“The (jeepney) body has to be modified. It should fit more people. Environmental laws should be applied to all jeepneys. It’s a pity we have “Clean Air Act” but public transports violate this law. But to totally take them off the streets would be a loss to our heritage,” he said as I sat on the passenger seat of his car. 

I thought he made sense, and he did not sound arrogant.

For as long as (1) I don’t have a car, (2) there’s no efficient mass transport system servicing the entire metropolis, (3) my desire to continuously have an affinity with the common people is not taken away, (4) I am poor, and (5) I want to, I shall take the jeep. And if you happen to ride with me, say ‘hi,’ will you?

FX Rider

"Be...Cuss"

I was trying to list things that I look for in a friend. Careful scrutiny of my list shows that I look for someone like me or someone who shares the same values as I do. It goes without saying that anyone who may not be like me in many ways is an ‘x’ in my list. This got me thinking as to whom I don’t want to befriend. The first person to come into my mind was a former co-teacher. What didn’t I like about her?

  Insincere

  Gossip monger

  Social climber

  Insensitive

  Foul-mouthed

  Ill-mannered

  Domineering

It’s a relief that I don’t get to see her anymore, but I am bound to meet people who may be like her.

It has been two weeks since I started government work. I have met my new workmates. They are slowly revealing themselves to me. Likewise, I get to reveal something about myself to them also. Let’s just say I am not keen about being a popular member of the group. Let’s leave it at that.

In a teambuilding activity we had, I blurted out ‘sh_t’, an expression, which, sad to say, is the most readily available cuss word in my profanity vocabulary. I don’t claim to be the most upright of all beings, but I do detest hearing the words ‘P---- Ina’ and other Tagalog cuss words. For me, Tagalog cuss words are the vilest morphemes ever expressed by any mouthed Filipino.

An evaluation of the teambuilding activity later on revealed that "someone had said ‘sh_t’ in the activity." Guess who that was. I take full responsibility for that although a close friend would say it is not so big a deal. Apparently, in my line of work, the acceptable expressions are only those that promote harmony and world peace! In that case, sh_t will not be helpful.

Roxas Blvd near DFA

I really must watch out the words that come out of my mouth. I’m in the best position to say that language matters. I should not forget that I should be an exemplar of good manners and right conduct! Hehe!

I have always avoided foul-mouthed people. One major reason why I wanted to severe my ties with that former female co-teacher was the presence of P.I. after every ten words in her speech. I was successful at ‘unfriending’ her, but  curses did not leave me.

My everyday interactions with public transport service providers expose me to language not fit for general audience. I remember sitting in front of the jeep to have a front row experience of the language at its worst. I pitied the kid beside me.

“Gago, garapal talaga ‘to, ”  said the driver of another driver.  “Kanina pa yan. Puno na nga. Swapang talaga.”

“Bayad ‘ho. Baclaran lang ‘ho,” said a passenger to the same driver.

“Kabihasnan lang po.”

“Sorry po.”

When the confused passenger got out, the driver said, “Hindi nagbabasa. Kabihasnan nga lang. Magbasa-basa sa susunod ha.”

Heavy traffic came. “ ’Tang ina.”

Red for Japan!

My co-teacher Steh proudly wearing her nice red shir

All employees of the school are asked to wear a white or red top for the next three days as our way of showing support and condolences for disaster-stricken Japan. I am slightly defying this order by wearing maroon. You see, I take the the public transport a.k.a. jeep to get to my school in the posh Ayala-Alabang Village, and all construction workers must enter the village using uniformed-color shirts and they take the jeep, too. Today just happens to be red t-shirt day for our dear laborers.

By entering the wealthy village using the jeep, I am already branded as poor; I owe it to whatever dignity I have left in me not to be identified as a construction worker. I have got nothing against these wonderful skilled workers, but I just would not want to be marked as one. I am never a fan of labels and unappealing uniforms.

Tomorrow, I shall wear white, perhaps although, personally, I don't think it has to be seen in the color of the shirt or the pins one wears to express grief over or support for something. I am one with everyone whose prayers are for Japan. I laud the school, however, for the awareness they are trying to raise among the members of the school community. Japan is devastated by the triple catastrophe it is experiencing. Whatever little help we could give will surely mean something. I give them my prayers.

That's me wearing a maroon shirt

Passenger Series 4: The entrepreneurs

Taho Vendor



Rubberized Animal Toys Peddler



I'll never know how much they make in a day, and I'll never know the difficulties they experience either, but I my interactions with them give me a picture of a life I don't want to experience.

I stare at the likes of them when I see them in jeeps for that is as close as I could get as to experiencing the life they lead. I vow not to be in a position where I could hardly make ends meet. I owe it to myself and to my family. I do not completely blame them, though. Sometimes, life gives us apples; sometimes, something else.

Although they experience hardships that I do not want, and they take their trade to places that I will never go to, I share their worries also. Perhaps, our difference is just a few hundreds of pesos, but our concerns are more or less the same.

Addressing these concerns is what keeps us moving. I go to work teaching the kids while they peddle their goods in search of profit. At the end of the day, we  either begin thinking of what we will do next or we stop thinking since it's going to be pretty much the same the next day.

Business Attire: slippers, sando shirt, white shorts and backpack



Long day ahead



Passenger series 3: The fetcher

At around lunch, Johnny, not his real name, is fetched by a lady from a nearby day care center after a morning of fun-filled learning. Johnny, still with baby powder around his neck,  proudly shows his hand, which is stamped with a star from his class, to the lady. They approach the jeepney terminal togther; she holds the boy's small hands, and, at the same time, carries his equally small bag. The boy grips his juice and chocolate bar inside a paper bag. She lets the boy take his seat in the jeep; that's additional seven pesos of student's fare. She would occasionally smell and kiss her ward's small head. Every gesture shows her affection for the little boy. When they reach their stop, they carefully alight from the jeep. Other passengers help the small boy outside as the lady flash them a smile. They cross the street to their townhouse, leaving me smiling.

Passenger Series 1: Ang Madre

The nun's dress has always been a source of interest to me. I don't personally know of any nun to ask questions about their get-up which they wear every day of their religious life. Although I hear their number is dwindling, they are still pretty much around. Based on some observations and stories about nuns, I have learned that there is little hair that their  headgear covers. They cut their hair really short, I hear. I inquired about their vow of poverty, too (which is something I don't want to have but is imposed on me). Would they use deodorant and shampoo? "Yes, we do, " a sister in a streetchildren center answered. Later on I gathered that they would be  given rations; a shampoo sachet or a laundry bar soap should last them a week or so. To add to whatever knowledge I have of nuns and their attire, this particular picture  above taken in one of my recent commutes just gave me a glimpse of the nuns' way of shielding themselves from pollution. I would have never thought that their veil can be used like that. Upon seeing this picture, a friend mentioned that using the veil in that manner may be deemed inappropriate to some congregations. Again, I would not know about that. I know, though, that seeing the nun riding with me in that jeep was a reassurance of a safe trip. 

Go Green!

The sight of passengers carrying paper bags instead of plastic bags inside the jeep in a Muntinlupa jeepney terminal reminded me of the wonderful city ordinance that the city was implementing effective 2011. I would not have noticed the change had it not been for the three passengers sitting close to each other who held their goods inside big paper bags. Brown paperbags were not a common sight in Muntinlupa months back. Now, it's everywhere, and it's surely a welcoming change. This bold move in the part of the local government is truly laudable. "No to plastic! No to styro!" has been their battlecry. I wish other local governments can follow suit; it's best if the entire country does the same. I wonder, though, how it is for meat and fish. I have not gone to the market to check it out myself. Consumers probably bring their own bags or bayong, which is a lot better than the paper bags.

My favorite fastfood chain is  one with the city. Jollibee stores, at least the ones in Muntinlupa, now use plastic containers instead of the styro packaging for their takeout orders. Jollibee is also seen smiling in its logo displayed in all their paper bags used for takeout. This will certainly make mother earth jolly, too. The common folks who patronize these establishments, on the other hand,  will probably begin to wonder and ask questions. The answers they will get, I hope,  will undoubtly make them  think about the situation. I have a feeling the paper bags will cause wide awareness, and awareness will open a myriad of reflection and actions.

Soon, I hope, every city or district will be implementing something similar. To be honest, it brings me joy seeing the paper bags. There is a comforting feeling seeing that something is being done for the environment. I want this feeling. I hope it becomes yours, too. :-)

Mcdonald's does the same.

Fair fare hike?

no caption to add

The day has finally come when the authorities announced the peso increase to the seven-peso minimum fare. It didn't come as a surprise; the increase is a trend as with other commodities. Starting Wednesday, every Juan and Juana is shelling out a peso more to every short-distance jeepney ride in the whole Philippines!

The increase, the authorities said, is "to help jeepney drivers and operators cope with the rising commosity prices."

My blog post on fare hike ends here because this blog post is purely for information only, and, besides, no negative thoughts can change this news at this point. In a democratic country like ours, acceptance is an admirable trait. So, I'll do just that as I did earlier.

Who is one-peso richer? Who is one-peso poorer?

When I announced in the faculty room of the increase, just a few minutes after http://www.inquirer.net/ had broken the news , one well-off car-owning faculty member said, " Pabayaan n'yo na. Piso lang 'yan."

Something told me she was right, and something told me not to say anything more.

Inspiration

Every jeepney or bus ride I take is supposed to give me inspiration as to what to write next. The ride is always a rich source of observations and stories. However, I have not been seeing those lately. I had been preoccupied with so much thought.

Sometimes it is with the hailing of a jeep that a story develops, or sometimes, it is in the destination. These stories and observations are made clear because I relish every ride I take. My eyes would wander at every passenger inside and on the moving picture outside.  Now, it is just a blank stare. My worries about my high school reunion, which I am planning,  have taken much of my mind. Homecomings are supposed to be anticipated. My remaining optimism is what seems to be keeping me look forward to it.

As I was doing a mental accounting of the expenses and the attendance of the reunion, the jeep was brought to a stop. I was suddenly Commuter again. A passenger was shouting at a lady who just got off. Since I was seated at the farthest end of the jeep, by the entrance, I saw the woman they were calling and she was some ten meters away. "Ale, (Lady) " a male passenger called. Everyone else looked at the woman heading back to the jeep's direction. I was still oblivious about the minor commotion.

"Nakalimutan n'yo sukli n'yo," the man whose clenched hand bearing her change said.

"Ay, 50 nga pala pera ko," the woman speaking by the entrance. "Thank you," said the woman, and the jeep sped off.

Amen.

Illiteracy

It's definitely not illiteracy; we have one of the highest literacy rates in Asia. Then, how come many couldn't comprehend a "NO LOADING" sign? I sigh at the sight of them, the signs and the people; the proliferation of these signages all over the metro must have cost the government tons of money. The country's reading teachers and experts might have failed big time due to the increase of  street sign illiterates  who could not understand what those simple words and illustrations mean.

Disregard for signs and laws in general seems to be a reality in Philippine streets. I hope I am wrong.

I was dead tired from work one evening, and I just wanted to go straight home. This was what I did. I went to the transport terminal where, I knew, I would be assured of a seat. It was past nine already, and I decided on taking the bus since it's faster compared to a jeep, and I comfortably took my place by the window. At the Star Mall Alabang Terminal, I patiently waited for other passengers to get in for I know all buses were given a definite time to gather passengers; buses going beyond their alloted loading time literally take a beating from the terminal personnel who strike their sticks onto the buses' body to warn them of their 'overstaying.' So, just after a few minutes, the engine roared.

Just five meters away from the terminal, I saw more people on the street awaiting jeeps and buses. Jeepneys and buses took this chance to get more passengers along a street known to have a "CLOSE DOOR POLICY."

What's wrong here?

The bus terminal was a stone's throw away. Most, if not all, of the people waiting on the road were able-bodied and schooled citizens, yet they appeared to have no notion of a transport terminal. Public utility vehicles , on the other hand, risked the possiblitity of being issued a ticket for a common and known violation. As with the case of the bus I was on, the good traffic officer halted the bus so an exchange of tickets and IDs was to take place. This, among others, delayed my trip home for a few precious minutes.

You and I perfectly know that this is not an isolated situation. For as long as I could remember, people have not been responding very well to the words 'terminal' 'loading' and 'laws.' I wonder what will make them.

Helpless

I saw an old woman commute today. "Kay taas naman nito," she said as she struggled to bring herself up the jeep, together with four plastic grocery bags, all were filled and appeared heavy. She requested if she could take the seat nearest the entrance; the passengers including myself obliged. Her wrinkly hands groped for some coins inside her bag. She placed her fare on someone else's hand and shouted, "Senior, ma." Three minutes passed and her four-peso change did not reach her. In faltering voice, she said, "'Yung sampu, senior 'yon. D'yan lang sa tabi." Her voice was inaudible to the driver; the other passengers helped relay the message. When she finally got her change back, she studied the four coins with great scrutiny. When she finally reached her destination at an intersection, she said, "Para sa tabi lang ho." This  time the driver heard her but went on driving. "Go na po. Sa kabila na lang." It was twenty meters from where she was to get off. She secured all her stuff and slowly alighted from the jeep. "Pakibilisan po, " said the driver as he was getting a honk from a sedan behind him. The poor woman did as instructed although there was some difficulty. As she was left on the road, only then did I get to see that her back was bent and her body frail. The last image before losing sight of her was that of an old woman bearing a heavy load waiting for the busy street to clear.

I thought of my mother when this was taking place. Episodes like this one never fail to reinforce my desire to help my parents in their old age. I always had this idea that life after retirement should be a bliss. That old woman shouldn't be experiencing whatever she was experiencing, but there really was no way of changing that. Sad but true, life is different for everybody. I cannot feel pity for the her because taking pity on someone does not help. I'd rather feel nothing than pity her and do nothing.

At work, I examine my life based on what has transpired. I realized that every brand new day is a day closer to old age. More than ever I feel the need to reassess my life and work for something better. No better time than now to act for my future. I must do something about my state. The choices I make now will determine the life my parents and I will have, but more importantly mine.

Katas ng Saudi

When I think of the bills I have to pay or the car I cannot own, I go on thinking like the 10 million Filipinos who have scattered all over the world. I'd like my tiny spot in the world also, working for the money I could never earn in the Philippines. I would come back to the country seeing my many investments and properties that had become the physical reminder of a life lived in hard work. "Katas ng Saudi" or something similar they would say.

But that is just a passing thought. I don't think I'd be hearing people say "Katas ng Saudi" as they notice my imaginary gold chain around my neck since I am not actively pursuing work abroad. To have a job that pays a lot is something I want, though.

For now, I shall admire the good life foreign employment has given the overseas workers. When I ride in a jeepney with an emblazoned "KATAS NG SAUDI,"  I would recognize the efforts of that proud jeepney operator. He must now be finally enjoying retirement life as he let his passenger jeepneys and other business ventures do the money-making for him. I imagine he would do a bit of golf after a quick visit to his store; he would be talking to a travel agent to plan his next foreign trip with his wife and kids, while I would plan the cheapest route to take as I head for a job interview in Taguig Global City.

Jeepney ornaments

Women's groups praised the transportation authorities many years ago when the latter implemented 'for women only' coaches in our trains. Before that happened, there were numerous reports of harassment and loss that involved the female passengers. 

I have no objection to this. Who does? A move like that is always laudable; any way to prevent harassment of any form is always good.   Maniacs and sex-crazed addicts abound and they will prey on anyone who could be a willing and an unwilling victim.  It is known that media has helped depict women as sex objects; hence, the women continuously take the consequences of the image portrayed by the tabloids, magazines, movies, and etc.

Apparently, even jeepneys through the sayings serving as decorations would cause any lady to blush in embarrassment. I take consolation in the fact that ladies do not waste their time reading those. I was reading those jeepney ornaments for this blog to find out that there were sayings which I found to be degrading to women. Of the seven, three had references to women.

"Miss nais kitang makilala, ngunit akoy abala sa aking manibela." 

"Basta sexy libre, sa driver lang tumabi."

"Ano man ang ganda mo, driver lang ang katapat mo."

The rest are:

"Ang di magbayad ng kusa, sa karma bayad ka na."

"God bless our trip."

"SAT/SUN & HOLIDAY Student no discount"

"Yan ang tipo kong pasahero, alisto kung magbayad ng husto."

I like that those ornaments add character to the jeep, but ornaments that box a woman in a certain image are unacceptable. They also raised my attention to the existence of jeepney misconduct. The slogans/sayings all point out to the rotten behavior of some passengers. Mag-ingat sa mandurukot. No smoking!

I hope the next time I get to observe jeepneys, I'd read words that respect the passengers and uplift the spirits. Perhaps next time, an "Ingat sa pag-uwi!" or a "Salamat sa pagsakay!" would be the welcoming change I would see. 

"Bakyanism"

On my way to work, I observed the people in the jeep, particulary their hands. There were 16 passengers, eight on both sides, not counting the two in front. I observed that eight hands (including mine) were on the hand rail above, two clutching their phones and one holding a Tagalog romance novel. The last got my attention. I have been told it's bad to read on any moving vehicle, except if you are on an airplane. The lady who continued reading the novel held Martha Cecilia's novel entitled Charles' Angel. How catchy! A closer look at the novel made me see that it was a limited edition and it was new; the pages were crisp.

I advocate any form of reading  (particularly reading my blog), so when I saw the girl, I let her be. As for me, I am John Grisham reader and a Philippine Literature fan! You would see me read F Sionil Jose but never a Tagalog pocketbook, and I don't think I'm picking up one soon, I think. I say 'I think' because things could change. Before, when I was asked if I watched telenovelas on our local channels, I strongly said "No!" Guess who's in front of the TV during weeknights watching Grazilda and Beauty Queen now. I have officially joined countless Filipinos who make their evenings less boring by watching these telenovelas. In so doing, I am adding an information that would now make me more identifiable as "masa" and even "bakya."

How am I with that label? Labels, whatever they may be, are never good. I had my share of namecallings and they never made me or anyone feel good. When I chanced upon a Facebook comment on 'bakyanism' and the commenters' apparent preference for elitism, I couldn't help but frown upon their comments. I do not mind their ideas on the 'bakya' crowd as these are theirs, but for them to feel better than most or superior to others is something objectionable.

I choose not to be labeled by the vehicle I ride, the books I read and the TV shows I watch in the same way Iza Calzado's impoverished character will not mar her into becoming a Beauty Queen! Weeknights at the Kapuso network! hehehe!

Love - r

Ronald, a seaman, goes home to his province in Tuguegarao every time he has the chance to. He must have missed land transportation very much because at home he would ply the streets of Tuguegarao using their family-owned passenger jeepney. During one of his trips one afternoon, he chanced upon a beautiful young teacher. He stopped for her and the teacher hopped on. Every afternoon after that, he would save a space by the driver's side for the teacher. They got married years after.

This story was supplied to me by my friend who read my 'love' post. This can be just one of those stories that could attest to "basta driver, sweet lover." I don't personally know a lot of drivers to check the truthfulness of this sticker statement posted in just about every one in two jeeps I ride in. The one and only driver I personally know happens to be separated from his wife.

In Facebook, account owners have their way of self projection. The profile pictures and the status updates and whatnot are all of the account owners' choosing and they determine the kind of identity they wish to project to people. I guess, drivers do the same with the various stickers glued on the jeepney walls. Again, there is no way to check the sticker content's veracity.

I get to observe, though, the drivers when their female companions sit beside them. Together, they make a living; one drives, the other collects the fare.  Sometimes, the driver does all the work while his mate sits firm or stays asleep to give her driver some warmth. I usually sense something wrong in that picture, but I choose to shut up about it. I was always told that relationships in whatever kind of workplace may pose to be problematic to the people concerned and to the people around them. There are even times when it becomes a family affair/business. Other than a fare collector, there is also an in-house barker who, in his small voice, would call out passengers to ride the driver's jeep.

Theirs is a love story taking place in front of the jeep, and it shouldn't be anyone's concern but theirs. As for me, I have my own love affair taking place in the jeep. For as long as they don't disturb me admiring myself in the jeep's side mirror, there's no reason for me to mind them.

Love

For the first time in 15 years, my good friend in her 30's is hearing her heart beat again for a man who seems to be seriously pursuing her. She was beginning to forget how it was to love. 

I need not know the rest of the details of her love affair. I am already content and happy knowing that she blushes like a teenager at the slightest mention of love. For a lady whose many weekends have been spent as a single woman praying to God for a boyfriend, she deserves whatever feeling she has right now.

There is always an opportunity for love at one point in our lives; for some, it's several, but it is undeniable that love, in whatever form, age and intensity, feels good. I am not to speak at length about the topic, for the subject has been immortalized in all forms of literatures already. I'll let Shakespeare and my mother do that for me.

Why am I writing about love in a commuting blog? It is because I couldn't think of anything else to write about commuting! hehe.

Seriously now, the the long weekend got me to watch a lot of TV, and I saw Yeng Constantino's newest single entitled "Jeepney Love Story." As I was listening to it, I told myself, "I will blog about jeepney love stories." But I couldn't think of a love story conceived in a jeep or bus for that matter. I've heard stories about babies being conceived in buses, but I have no personal knowledge of a love story springing from a bus or jeepney ride.

There are instances, though, that a passenger or two would catch your attention. They'd have pretty faces, nice bodies, and sweet fragrances, but the admiration would only be as good as the length of the trip. I can only imagine of a situation when you've taken fancy over someone in a jeep and pursued this someone to become your one true love. It's pretty much like a storyline from a Filipino romance novel.

In my limited experience about love and in my bottomless resource of love stories, I have learned to see that love can start anywhere - snail mail exchanges, Internet chat, group project, lab partners and many more. Jeepney rides are not exempted. But if you see someone winking and looking fiercely at you in a jeep or on a bus, whether it's from a girl, boy, or someone in between, it's best you arm yourself. Or you could always wink back.

I wish all of us love, wherever we may be.

Shame

"What motivates the passengers... to pay their fare?  ... the shame component of social capital comes into play. Shame is a self-policing mechanism that prompts passengers to announce their place of origin to the place of destination in paying their fare. The fact that passengers are facing each other and are seated close to one another further reinforces the mechanism of shame. The face to face contact among passengers serves as a deterrent for the passengers to cheat or not pay his right fare. Without this face to face contact, the self-policing mechanism is reduced and thus there is a greater inclination to cheat. Surprisingly, face to face contact is absent in buses and thus you need conductors to collect passenger fares.

"... trust was essential to accomplish an objective - for the jeepney transport system to work."

- Tesoro Tullao, Jr. Understanding Economics in the Philippine Setting

As I was reading this, I tried to draw connections of this simple illustration to other problems besetting this country. I  found it remarkable how this simple system could present solutions to corruption and other ills of this country. But who was I kidding? The very people who are bringing this country down are the ones who have no shame! Even if they do, who's watching them do their evil deeds? I imagine putting these corrupt officials in a jeep. I bet all of them would do a "1-2-3!"

Tullao's illustration makes perfect sense. Truly, the driving force behind the jeepneys'  existence is the patronage and honesty of the passengers. I would think that since face to face contact is the force behind the system's success, jeepney-riding should breed honest people.  However, I am not entirely sold to my own deduction. A majority of our population take the jeep, yet cheating in many forms appears to be a secret  hobby among the jeepney-riding public. On the other hand, the minority who doesn't take the jeep,  is responsible for the many large-scale cheating. This gets me to ask: Where, then, do we lose our shame? How come we cheat?

I had been ashamed of so many things in my life, but I lost them all once I started embracing my own realities. There was a point that I was ashamed of my Mindanao identity especially when I was among my Manila friends and relatives. I felt that I had an invisible negative label attached with me for having been born and raised in Mindanao, but I took out that invisible self-imposed label when I realized it was a beautiful thing to be a Mindanaoan.  To be able to speak at least three languages and have a recognizable culture and accent were sources of pride. I have embraced my identity and have become proud of it since those realizations.

As for cheaters, they have embraced their own label, too; they know they are cheaters and, thus, they willingly play the part. Some perfectly know, though, that cheating is against any social norm, so they only do it when no one is watching. Cheaters will try to get away with cheating if they can.

The thing is anyone can cheat. Whether they're in a jeep or in the government, in a brothel or at school, they would cheat because they know they can. But,  if you see a cheater and you don't do anything about it, shame on you!

Boundary

"Ma', sandali lang, " said the middle-aged woman as she was hurriedly alighting from the jeep.

"Sige, kahit magtagal ka pa," replied the driver.

Usually, a driver wouldn't say that. Instead,  he would say, "Paki-bilis-bilisan lang po. Bawal bumaba dito."

I looked around to see we were in the intersection and the red light was on. Whether the driver said that in jest or not, being there was a serious opportunity to pick up passengers.

I sometimes forget that jeepney drivers also work to earn a living. To be honest, it infuriates me to be in a jeep that would stop at every sight of a possible passenger and take its sweet time to wait for passengers crossing from the other side of the road. The thoughts of other irritable passengers: Can we just leave them and go already? I'm already late! I can't imagine what an additional seven pesos can do? Our thoughts don't really matter because the drivers have to make up for their 'boundary.'

The  word 'boundary' takes on a different meaning for the drivers, but it means the same as '9-5', or 'duty' to any working class. In the same way that a seven pesos could save you ten milliliters of sweat from walking, that additional seven pesos could buy the driver about a quarter of a liter of diesel, and eventually could get him passengers to earn more than his boundary. It requires a mind of a worker to fully-understand what those seven pesos could do.

It is the same mentality that conflicts with the teacher in me.

I have a breadwinner student who always absents himself from class. When I asked him the reason, he said, "Walang pera, sir. Namamasada ako sa umaga."

"Eh, dapat may pera ka," I responded.

"May binabayaran kasi, sir."

I found out that our principal had been aware of my students' situation. My principal added that my student had been paying  the tricycle being used through installment. My student resorted to buying his own vehicle as this was the wiser thing to do than shell out money daily for the boundary.

Now, if I don't see him at school, I would understand; if I do see him in school, I can't help but see fatigue etched on his face. It's not halfway through the school year, yet he has amassed a considerable number of absences to send him out of school and give him all the time in the world to earn his living through his trike. Now, do I let that happen?

Jeepney crimes

A September 24, 2010 Inquirer.net article about crime incidents involving commuters in Paranaque and Taguig came out. An excerpt:

   Police on Friday warned the public against crimes committed in the areas of Taguig and Parañaque, especially those carried out on commuters.

   The warning was issued following the arrest Thursday night of three suspects who were said to be victimizing jeepney passengers between the East Service Road in Parañaque City and SM Bicutan in Taguig City.

Isn't it too early for these kinds of crimes to be rampant? If I remember it right, these crimes should reach its peak in a month's time, in October or November, when people's wallets have their fill of their bonuses. For criminals, those months including December are their peak season, so they, too, can extravagantly enjoy the birth of our merciful Lord and Savior.

In reality, there isn't much that poor commuters can do when they are faced with gun-pointing devils whose purpose is to get their hard-earned money by use of either force or fear. I hear stories that jeepney-riding criminals indiscriminately take bags, wallets, cellphones and jewelry from passengers; they do this quickly. To prevent further harm, police advise not to fight back and to just give in to the criminals' demands. The whole of the 13th-Month Salary just for the robbers? No way! Something can be done.

One good money advise I learned is never to bring big amounts of money. I don't get to do this since I never get to hold big amounts of money, unless you consider a teacher's salary big. When I get my salary, I only withdraw small amounts or transfer the whole amount to another account. These transactions I do in secured locations like banks and malls. How about in the absence of banks? How do you carry money when you are in transit?

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I hear the most inventive ways to carry money. People particularly from the province who come to the big city bringing with them loads of cash in their person and market vendors after spending the day from work do any of the following:

1. They stick money inside their underwear specifically inside the bras of women. It is always amusing to see them pay the fare as they get the money from their bra!
2. They fold paper bills nicely and place them inside their shoes. One-hundred pesos worth of coins will simply not work here. Caps may also be used.
3. They use unconventional money containers such as plastic shopping bags and handkerchiefs.

For people carrying luggage, they have what it takes for them to be good smugglers, drug couriers and customs tax evaders! They surely know how to hide stuff! Known and unknown hiding places are among the underwear, inside document envelopes and books, and inside small unassuming pouches and small hidden pockets of the luggage.

Despite the precautions commuters take, there is always an existing threat coming from these bad elements. I would really like to think that with our vigilance and the police's response, all the criminals will be stamped out soon. But, of course, you perfectly know that this is just my wishful thinking.

Chivalry gone

"Hindi ka gentleman, noh?" my gentleman friend said.

I knew the answer to this question.

My friend must have observed a few commuting instances, or maybe more, that led him to his opinion of me. I guess, for my friend, chivalry can best be seen in commuting among other venues and situations. I think he saw me not offering my seat to a female companion while we were on on board a train.

I feel that I don't owe anybody an explanation for my actuations. If you don't like me, then don't!

BUT this certainly got me thinking. Despite my "I-don't-care" attitude, I wanted to be likeable to a certain extent. I never aim to be everybody's favorite although to be liked by at least two people would be more than great! And maybe that gentlemanly trait might just win me at least one 'like.'

Since I want some 'likes' as in Facebook, I shall explain.

For the longest time, I have been commuting alone; actually, I prefer doing it alone. I have been trained for aggression, in so far as commuting is concerned. "Nandyan na!" The sight of a jeep approaching was my cue. My years of commuting experience has made jostling my second-best skill next to sleeping. This is the reality in Manila, whether you take a jeep, a bus, or the train in terminals where queuing does not exist.  Less aggression would leave you 'ride-less.' This mindset has made me forget other things, including companions. All that was in  my mind was to get in no matter what and sit comfortably. This behavior is dangerous, though. I don't recall getting in fights for doing this, but I nearly injured a woman inside a jeep many years ago in Zamboanga. When a nearly-filled jeep halted, I hopped inside it nearly pushing an alighting woman back to her seat. For a brief moment I saw fear in her and for the seven-month baby in her womb. I felt miserable after. That was a lesson learned. Never charge a pregnant woman or anyone for that matter. I have learned to let people get out of the vehicle first before entering. This is a simple commuter rule yet I learned it the most stupid way.

I still have that agility to seize any seat although I have conducted myself in a more acceptable behavior since that pregnant woman incident. Commuting in Manila taught me more desirable things may it be in commuting or about life in general ,and so did my Manila education. I had feminist teachers for my countless literature classes in Manila. They tried to imprint in my mind 'women power.' I think they have successfully did that as I am very far from being a male chauvinist pig --- a pig maybe but never a chauvinist! hehe. The simple tenet of feminism, "men and women are equal" found its way into my long-term memory that is so easy to retrieve anytime. Hence, if women get tired standing on buses, so do men. (Dear ladies, just leave your comments in the comment box. Thank you!)

Lastly, I have to put my dear mother in this conversation. My wonderful mother has made all of her sons feel like they were princes. My dear mother made everything comfortable for her sons and her daughters who were to come much later. Hence, I am accustomed to comfort. Thus, I want to sit  in jeeps or on buses, and, yes, I am selfish. As a result, I am not gentleman.

They say that one's demeanor is a reflection of one's character, and that it is difficult to change especially when it is deeply rooted in one's childhood. This maybe true or maybe half true, but the truth remains that things can still change, and that the word 'effort' is invented for a reason.