Car Watcher - Mark Romeo "Omar" Baluag

*I made this story up for my Sociology fieldwork when I was in 2nd year college. I know it shows insensitivity towards the ones who are actually in the same situation, but I guess I have learned my lesson. Compassion. In some way, my heart does feel for them, desire to help them... While writing this story, I had them in mind, but my story was working mainly on speculations and thoughts, unfounded perhaps.. primarily based on my own personal observations and ideas...

The loud cacophony of honking cars and jeepneys filled the heavy afternoon air of Manila. The suffocating smell of dust and car farts entered the sensitive noses of the passers by. The angry orange red sun, watching from the distant clouds, seem to have drifted unsuspectingly closer to the earth, for the warmth of the day was almost to the point of being intolerable. And as a rather large shopping center, catering mainly to common average-income people, came to view, a pack of half decently clothed children, huddled together in anticipation of another car to position itself in one of the parking lot slots. One of these children happened to be 11 years old, Mark Romeo Baluag, known to his peers as "Omar".

Born on the 27th of March 1993, Omar was a dark skinned boy with a pair of dark black eyes reflecting the gravity of his present situation. He is barely 5 feet tall and is best described by the cliche "skin and bones". He was wearing a faded shirt with an undecipherable cartoon character, practically gray in color perhpas with its overuse. His legs, visible underneath his knee-high shorts were scarred generously. And yet, he confidently accompanied me to a nearby McDonald's where this interview was to be conducted.

After purchasing for us a decent chicken and rice meal, we sat in a noisy nook in the popular fast food chain. Curiously, Omar was teary eyed, which he explained later that he had always seen other people enter and eat in the restaurant, and how he envied them. And now, a few weeks away from his twelfth birthday, he was given the opportunity to actually dine in McDonald's. This happens to be only his third time to eat there.

Omar is the third of the five children of Danilo and Perfecta Baluag. His siblings are sixteen year old Mario Ramon, fourteen year old Mike Rodel, seven years old Michelle Rhodora and five years old Melissa Rowena. Mario and Mike are staying with their mother's childless sister, Tita Sennie, who is funding for their education in a nearby public school. Omar and his two female siblings were left in the care of their thirty five year old mother, who works virtually twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, as a washerwoman, just to feed her three remaining children. Omar's father was a company driver before he died of respiratory complications in the year 2001, which forced Omar out of school with an educational attainment of only grade three, to help his mother support the family.

Born and raised in Manila, Omar is a strong, witty boy who seems to act and think older than his age. According to him, his mother was from the Quezon province, and later moved to Manila when she was a teenager as household help for a middle class family. His father was also from the province, unfortunately he couldn't recall where. His parents eventually met through a friend, and were married in the urban city, and soon had six children, although one died due to premature birth.

Before, Omar had worked selling car wipes and candies to passing cars and jeepneys, but due to the multiple risks involved in such an occupation, Omar was almost killed by a careless truck driver which caused his mother to immediately withdraw him from this sort of work. This is his second job, where he earns at least fifty to a hundred pesos a day depending on the generosity and quantity of the shoppers. He makes sure to give proper attention to each car he is responsible for (good thing he wasn't guarding any cars at this particular time) and in fact tries as much as possible to be grateful and polite to the owners of the vehicles he cares for.

He told me that he has often seen people get rich by luck and talent. He admitted that his mother regularly bets in the lottery with the hope of striking the lucky seven digits. He also confessed that he had often daydreamed of joining reality shows and contests as Star for A Night and Starstruck, but he doesn't trust his potential to actually succeed since he admitted that he doubts his abilities and talents especially without having sufficient educational attainment. He fears people would only ridicule him as they do to people who don't graduate from college, as he cited actor-turned-president Joseph "Erap" Estrada and aspiring presidential candidate Fernando Poe Jr.

He is an avid Erap fanatic, and believes that although people are not able to attend formal schooling, it doesn't automatically equate that they are dumb. At present, Omar tries to work hard, hoping one day he may resume his schooling and become a teacher. He, having helped his mother take care of his two younger siblings, have grown a love and patience towards children, and he believes that the youth are all thirsty to learn and he desires one day that he could be one of those special people to give such individuals something that could help quench some of their thirst for knowledge and save them from the discriminating eyes of the public.

Peer Pressure

It's been a while,
He smiled
I nodded in agreement.

He pushed a little white box
towards my side of the table.

I looked at it.

You serious? I asked.

Why not. He answered.
His eyes burying into mine.

But.. I protested.

Don't you want a stick?

He opened the lid and took one out
Placed it on the curve of his lip.

Burned.

Smoke screaming out of the flamed.

Puff....

Maybe one won't hurt. I thought.

And that moment, defined my life.

Waking Up

I shielded myself in the darkness.

Sepia vision?

Shape shifting.

Jump cuts.

Who are you?

Dead. Black. Nothingness.

Brriiiiinnngggggg.. Stop!

The world takes light and reality commences.

Conversations and Choices

( I wrote this story when I was in fourth year high, I just wanted to add it in, maybe it would somehow help me build it up into something more...)

The monotonous ringing of the school bell erupted throughout the corridor, ending another boring physics period in room 236. The students stood simultaneously as their teacher stepped out and began to proceed to his next class. Very much aware of their next subject, the seniors chuckled and talked with their friends as they left their room to go to the computer lab on the fourth floor of their high school building.

Today, they will be having a practical examination about their recent lesson on the subject. Most of them are confident that they will easily finish this activity and get extra time to spend before lunch break. While the rest nervously held their notebooks close to their face as if memorizing the mathematical equations that will be presented together with the test.

As they ascended the wide staircase, Katherine waited as her chums made their way up the stairs. Marjorie was laughing with Aida when they saw their friend watching them from the top of the staircase, only then did they decide to quicken their pace. The gym stood at the right side of the stairs and several grade 6 pupils were having their weekly physical education. In their sky blue shorts, they ran around the gym with smiles and untiring enthusiasm. Katherine stared at them for a moment wishing that she could be as active as they were. All of the sudden, Marjorie tapped her shoulder and she was brought back to reality.

The seats, in front of the lab, were already occupied by noisy boys and chattering girls, when they arrived. Just in time, when their teacher, Mrs. Mogro announced that the odd numbered students go first. Katherine realized that she was number 33 and fortunately both her friends were odd numbers too. They entered the air-conditioned room together and were welcomed by a sudden change of temperature. Without difficulty, they found their respective computers with their numbers attached at the upper corner of its monitor. And the test began…

“It’s simple really, 2 plus 3 is 5 and if you multiply that by the "i" in your for-next statement, then you still get 5 and so on and so forth…” explained Katherine to her friend, who failed to answer her question. They were seated comfortably on the staircase sharing their ideas and answers during the examination, not noticing the arrival of Reagan. He approached them with his usual cheery air and asked to join the discussion. Out of the blues, Marjorie dropped the subject and asked, “Guys, remember the essay in Mrs. Cases’s quiz this morning?”

“Ya, I remember that, it was such a personal question, that Christel actually cried. I guess that happened to her family,” answered Reagan, slightly reddened by his answer since he knew that Christel would not like to let the others know of this incident, but he continued “ She said that if she saw her father with another woman, then, she would definitely inform her sisters first. I guess, since they are older and more experienced, she believes they would handle the situation from there.” He ended, nodding a few bows of approval.

“I don’t find anything wrong with a married man looking for another woman, I mean if it were my father, I would totally understand why. Being in a Chinese community and all, it’s practically a natural phenomenon, no big deal!” Marjorie replied, while combing her black shoulder length hair with her fingers. She smiled at her answer and waited for the others to respond.

“Well, being a Christian, I know its all wrong because it’s… obviously against the seventh commandment, thou shalt not commit adultery! But, I don’t understand why, in my own perspective, in a family like ours, if that happens, it’s understandable. I mean, maybe, I just can’t expect life to be perfect or anything and with the conflicts between my church and my culture, maybe life has just molded this perspective of mine ”

“Katherine, how could you say that!? It’s like denying your own religion, and for me, I don’t like men who have other women, my dad disapproves of that notion too.” smiled Aida, knowing that she has defended not only her father, but also her principles.

“Ya, Kat, whenever we see you with your family, it’s like there is no other family that could be as perfect as yours. You have a pair of caring parents, who gives you practically everything that you want and three sweet siblings, c’mon, you can’t be for real.” Exclaimed Marjorie, startled by her friend’s unexpected response.

“ What you see isn’t always what you get.” frowned the girl.

“Well, in my family, rather than being scared, I could actually laugh my head off whenever my parents fight,” began Marjorie “ you see, when they have these quarrels they would throw the first thing they could get their hands on. One time, they were screaming at each other and were throwing plates and glasses and stuff like that at each other, and they actually wounded each other, and guess what!? They had to go to a hospital just to give proper medications to the scar on my father’s forehead and to the cuts on my mom’s hand, its so funny I just can’t stop laughing whenever I think of that incident.” The friends looked at their friend curiously and began to giggle at the idea. Why would two adults think of throwing things at each other when they could simply talk to the other and make a compromise, thought Katherine.

Reagan, amused with his friend’s story, decided to add his own in the discussion.“ In my family, I remember a time when I had a fight with my brother and the quarrel reached my sister who told my other sister who told my parents and to make the story short, my parents ended up fighting when my brother and I reconciled.” He proudly stopped and waited for the expected applause of comments and grins, but quite the contrary, Aida changed the topic and inserted the topic they were discussing moments ago, “If you see your father with another woman, what would you do, given the idea that you love your mother very much?”

“Well, if it’s my dad, then I guess it’s okay, but if its my mom, like duh! That’s definitely gross. I don’t’ mean to sound like a chauvinist but women have more to lose than men. Women need to have their dignity and their honor to walk the streets confidently and know people are not speaking unwanted words at their back. News travel fast especially in the Chinese community, and as I mentioned earlier, men being polygamous is acceptable in this society but women? Ya right!” Marjorie replied thoughtlessly as she tried to find another way to sit comfortably on the cold hard steps.

Reagan brushed the small ant that managed to climb up his pants and smiled, “I don’t know, but if I should encounter such, then I guess, I’m telling!” The brevity and frankness of his answer troubled Katherine for how could you just tell your mother without upsetting her or losing her trust in either you or your father, in fact, could there still be a home if there is no trust? But on second thought, what could a fifteen year old do in a situation like that?

“I am going to take a closer look and confirm my assumption. If by chance, it were true, then I’ll ask my dad who she is, on the spot. And obviously, I will introduce myself as his daughter. And then, I’ll leave everything up to God and his conscience. I’m sure that my dad is intelligent enough to read between the lines and confess this act of unfaithfulness to my mother. On the other hand, take this as a joke, I’ll tell him my opinion if I like the girl or not, if she’s far my “ideal girl” standards then I’ll encourage my dad to go for another round of girl hunting.” smiled Katherine, as she tried to feel if her hair was messed up by the sudden blow of air that just passed by as if eavesdropping on the friends’ unusually formal topic. Breaking the serious atmosphere that enveloped them by her last statement, she was given more jokes that hit their minds related to the matter, by her chums followed by hearty outbursts of giggles and laughter, but deep within, she felt her stomach turn at her insensitivity and cruelty towards the woman whom she was supposed to owe her life to.

“I know there was once a woman, who was very pretty. She was known to have a well-proportioned body and charms that could probably shame even the great queen Cleopatra. A lot of men were dazzled by her beauty and have taken courage to court her. Can you possibly imagine, among the many men who wanted her company, she chose a married guy, who happens to be Chinese. After several months and possibly years of clandestine meetings, the news broke out of their illicit relationship. Now, nobody dared to court her and lose the honor and respect, which they have earned throughout their whole lives. Until now, she remains an old maid! A spinster! What a waste…” There was a short silence in the area and somehow, everybody reflected on the story’s tragic turn of events.

Small comments of sympathy were expressed by the friends, hoping that that story would not occur again, not only to their little lives, but also to the lives of the strangers that pass the streets, unconscious of this sad event.

Aida reminded them of her father’s point of view on this matter with her grave and serious tone, saying that it was the consequence of her unwise decision. They, upon hearing this, ended up laughing. Deep within, despite their constant outbursts, this meeting was a painful revelation of the existence of every moment that has occurred in their lives and has given them each their own set of memories that has molded their points of view, twisted or illogical as they may be, they are still points of view. And each of their young hearts beat faster with their own thoughts and heartaches.

All of them were sure that they could not tackle such a mature topic well enough with information and facts to back up their claims and statements since how could a mere teenager cope with the troubles of married life. There always seems to have a shadow or a hidden trap door in every marriage that one cannot be aware of until the day comes when they trip and fall into one, but its too intangible and complex to understand and explain to others that it is often ignored until a fateful day when they too would fall into that open hole, some may climb up and survive, others perhaps would be left where and never rise out. Wasted.

And as each told their own encounters in life, they nourished their minds with the possibilities which life and probably fate has laid in stored for them. Who knows that one of these teenagers who sits on the school stairs could someday parent and raise the future president of the country? Or the Jack the Ripper of 2030? Life is an unsure path that is led by the decisions of each individual, each with his own special talents, with his own different character and knowledge, with his own memories to cherish, with his own unique walk in life to follow.

Reminders of the Past

It's been three years, she thought as she walked to her table. From the drawers, she pulled out a big, green bookbounded scrapbook. The plastic that encases it was torn, the skin of the book was weathered. She placed the bulk onto the table and opens it to the first page. She smooths out the folded sides of the page and begins flipping through it - an album of a time never to be retrieved again other than by memory.

As she turned the pages, faces flashed before her. Events that seemed, at that moment, to have meant to last forever. Clad in high school uniforms, she and her friends were carefree children, unwary that time would eventually succeed in pulling them, one by one, apart. But one memory remained to haunt her despite its already long conclusion. One picture of a boy was left, which she was forcing to ignore, for it holds far more hurt and pain than any other photograph could store.

It was the picture of the downfall of her pride and the captured image of her embarassing shame. She loved the boy in her youth, (Had she really loved?) but her heart was rejected after a month of hopefulness. She was too eager, she reprimanded herself. Too eager to give, and too eager to love, too eager to get hurt.

It was her birthday, she thought, when closure became evident. It was only at that time, that he did admit to her friend of his loss of feelings. He had avoided her for days since Christmas, a month before her birthday, not giving her any defined reason for his behavior. After he had wooed her into believing his affections, he disappears. In circumstances when they meet in school, he shunned away, pretending to be unaware of her presence. Where did she go wrong she asked herself repeatedly. Her friends rescued her from her sorrows, whisked her away into short-lived joys to keep her mind away from his betrayal.

She was grateful for her friends, despite their loss of patience to hear her spit out his name in complaint after a month of perserverance. Their efforts have been intense, watching her continuously like a mother does to her sick child, giving her warm advice that further strengthened their bonds. She was grateful to be in the midst of such heroic allies, her friends who have saved her in her most pitiful despair. And at last, she is grateful to have moved on.

But, has she moved on?

She Begins Writing....

A vision of idealism rolls itself like a blind film over the eyes of a girl in love. Romantic books and "happily ever after" movies are perhaps the best culprits of which such whimsical reveries could possibly be drawn - where a kiss is accompanied by a million firecrackers exploding on the ebony sky, or the union between two long lost lovers would be glorified with the flight of a hundred white doves. Could reality possibly par itself to the fanciful and perfect dreams that the mind creates?

Why is it that the images that are flashed before the television screen become the basis as to how a relationship should progress? Why does it seem that all couples are required to kiss at one point of their togetherness in order to confirm not only to the public audience but also to themselves of their complete devotions for each other? What therefore is a kiss? Could it be just the simple act of puckering up one's lips and meeting the other's, eventually adding the accessory of hands wandering consciously or even unconsciously like a snake slithering across the partner's body? Could such a simple act bear only the mundane symbolism of lust or is it possible to have more weight than what was just mentioned?

Time has been awfully kind with me. His punishments for my poor insight regarding love were faint, and yet I cannot help but yearn for more aggressive blows from the divine emotion; blows grave enough that I would no longer stand as I do now, critical enough that I would no longer recover the fullness of my esteem or worse, my being. Am I savoring the pleasures derived from my masochism, or am I challenging the possibility of perhaps the frightful encounter with a mature affair?Thus I question, have I truly loved?