Jeepneys and Ferry Boats

I miss the ferry boat. I miss the river. It’s been more than a month since the ferry service was suspended, the reason for which I didn’t bother to ask the management. And it’s been more than a month that I go to office and back home via jeepney, passing Quiapo. And there’s been a lot that I have seen and known.

I have smelled the polluted air of the metro minimum two hours a day during weekdays. I have noticed the difference of going out in the street early in the morning, than waking up late and rushing to work. I have passed almost every day the man @ the market, selling fruits @ P10 – which occasionally have become my breakfast, I have loved sitting beside the driver instead of @ the back of the jeepney – so I can see the road the vehicle is heading, I have observed the different errands people are up to – making their lives worthwhile for them. I have listened to the songs of the radio on the jeepney, on the street, or of the blind man playing his guitar beside the sidewalk. They all come to pass, as I pass each of them.

I have seen the lined up devotees of the Quiapo church, sidewalk vendors selling rosaries, candles, handkerchiefs with printed pictures of saints and prayers, herbal medicines saying ‘pamparegla’, stones and amulets, pirated cds and dvds. The stench of early morning drunkards gives me headaches, and in the evening, young boys sniffing rugby or acetone, while begging money on the streets. The first time I experienced it, everything seemed to freeze, and I believe I felt the truth. There was a mother carrying a small child, both of them almost asleep, and we were at the most rear side of the jeepney, while the vehicle swifts off the road. I feared they might fall, but was relieved later when they finally got off.

I just want the ferry back. The sadness of these sights just tell me how bad some things are, how helpless, how poor. But the light shines within each individual; I have seen that as well. A young boy helping out his father-driver collect money from passengers or calling out for possible commuter, I wonder if he even attends school. And a mother/father sending her/his child to school in the morning brings me back the times when my mother/ grandfather send me to my class in kindergarten. They were full of love for these kids who are too curious.

Maybe I really want the ferry back, but I guess, if ever the ferries are back, I’ll always try the jeepneys once in a while.