BONI

"Kuya, dalawa pong Cubao."

"Huy, ano ka ba?"

"Bakit, tama naman 'di ba? Cubao ka rin bababa?"

"Oo, pero di naman ako nagpapalibre."

"Bakit, kailangan ko magpaalam?"

"Eh kanina ka pa sa tricycle eh..."

"Walang pakialamanan. Saan ka nga ulit umuuwi?"

I met her in the Fall of 2010 back when I was one of the few new employees in a small office on the other side of Boni. I don't actually recall the first time I saw her, and I honestly can't remember her from the tide of faces I have been introduced to on my first day of work. But I do see her every morning jump from the IT Department, to Accounting, to Marketing, then to Admin. I have no idea what she does but she seemed to be well acquainted with everybody. I, however, am not someone who would hang out and smoke cigarettes on coffee breaks to hear the latest gossip. I'd rather sleep most of my lunch breaks, if possible.

The nature of our jobs are very different, but we happened to take the same route going home. Since I'm quite allergic to crowds and small talk, I let the wave of 'honda' employees finish their time-out before I punch mine. Why rush? Everybody's going to get stuck in traffic anyway. I see her standing outside of the gate sometimes waiting for people who would take the tricycle with her going to EDSA. Unfortunately, I was the victim that evening and was even forced to take the same bus ride too. I didn't want to embarrass her so I just said okay. That was the first time we actually "talked." It was so traumatic that I could not ride buses today without remembering that first encounter. 

"Gusto ko yung pangalan mo. Hindi maintindihan kung panlalaki o pambabae. Astig."

"Ayoko ng second name ko though."

"As if naman mapapalitan mo pa. Pwede pero magastos. Tsaka hindi naman degrading. Anyway, 'di ka naman nabuburyong sa trabaho mo?" 

"Okay pa naman. Bakit?" 

"Wala lang. Feeling ko lang ikaw yung tipong mabo-bore sa corporate eh. Second job mo na 'to diba?"

"Yup."

"'Yup.' Tipid neto sumagot. Matulog ka na nga."

"Hindi naman ako inaantok."

"Magpanggap ka na lang. 'Pag di ka natulog marami pa 'kong itatanong."

"Go lang."

"Nakabasa ka na ng Khaled Hosseini?"

That was the day I managed to gracefully tell her not to pay for my fare, as usually she would strongly insist despite my protests. I thought blood would spill all over, but she peacefully obliged. I paid for hers instead to return the favor somehow. By the way she shyly smiled and thanked me, I could see she's not used to someone doing favors for or treating her. I don't think nobody offers, but maybe because she can just be a little too domineering most of the time. She'd take the wheel when she can. It didn't help that I was a year younger too.

She's already been in that company for two years when I came in. Her CV was quite decorated for a fresh grad, so I don't know why she chose a relatively small and unknown company for a first job (and actually stayed) when she could have taken better offers. I never dared to ask, but I know she has her reasons. I'd say I know, because after a few chance tricycle and bus rides together I began to realize she can actually make a lot of sense. Yet I don't understand why she asks me too many personal questions. I'm not anybody who's interesting at all. All of these thoughts came hurling in my mind as she enthusiastically rendered her review of Hosseini's "A Thousand Splendid Suns", from a feminist point-of-view.

After a couple more months, the chance rides suddenly ceased. I never saw her again standing outside the gate in the evenings. I tried getting in queue ahead of other employees at the time-keeping machine just to see if she's going home earlier than usual. She's not, and she doesn't seem to be rendering OT either. I would purposely stay long at the terminal on mornings but no sight of her still. I would see her every now and then in the office, but coming up to her to casually ask her "what's up?" was not something I was comfortable doing. I couldn't. I just couldn't. I just gave up. 

Early one Wednesday morning, someone from her department came knocking in our room. "Hey, sino gusto sumulat ng farewell note? Last day niya this Friday. Tago niyo ah, surprise dapat yan. Balikan ko mamayang lunch. Or basta before Friday. Thanks!" Before we could even ask who was leaving, she was already heading to the Sales room beside ours. Inside the brown envelope that was handed to me were colorful pieces of square-cut construction paper. Farewell notes and scrapbooks are the signature tokens there for people who are resigning. That time, however, I was surprised to see her name written outside the envelope. So she's leaving, I told myself. I took a green one and placed it under my mouse pad so I won't forget. I tried thinking of what to write the whole day. I regret knowing that she's leaving, and at the same time I felt a little tinge of guilt thinking about how I've been trying to avoid talking to her over the past few months. Is this the best time to apologize? What can I say when I couldn't explain it to myself either? What if she didn't even notice anyway? I thought, and overthought. Friday came. I never handed the paper. For the second time, I just gave up. 

"One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs

And the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls"

Being brave is a process. I'll see you outside Kabul, Tariq.

Laila

I read the short note over and over to make sure it was indeed for me. I called the guard at the gate. "Kuya, sure kang para sa 'kin 'tong package?" I asked, wondering if she just made a mistake. "Yes po, kumpleto naman pong pangalan yung nakalagay." I did not argue further. I know it was for me because inside the package was a paperback copy of Hosseini's "A Thousand Splendid Suns". It's just that, my name is not 'Tariq,' hers is not 'Laila,' and we are neither in Kabul. When I read the novel that evening, it was then that I realized that the letter was an encrypted message that she wanted me to decipher. I hurriedly rummaged for the DHL packaging that contained the book, where I know I'd find her return address. Perhaps that's the address of her new office. I feel stupid because I can just send her a message on Facebook, but I'm not brave enough to do that. At least not yet. But what I do know is that this time, I'm not giving up on her. #

OHNE DICH

Meine liebe Freundin,

ich konnte nicht glauben, dass ich in einer Sprache schreibe, die dir und mir nicht vertraut ist. Aber ich habe kein wahl. Ich weiß nicht mehr, wie ich das sagen soll. Vergib mir. Ich was zu sagen immer nicht wissen. Immer.

Jetzt höre ich Lieder, die die Schwere in mir wegnehmen können. Ich kann nicht in der Stille denken. Es ist zu laut. Es taubt mich und bricht mich in eine millione Stücke. Nee, nicht in millionen, weil das zu viele ist. Vielleicht nur in tausende. Oder in hunderte. Oder nur in zwei. Ich kann nur in Teile brechen, die ich weiß --- ein Teil mit dir und ein Teil ohne dich.

Vergib mir. Ich war machtlos in einer Welt, in der ich noch nie mal. Ich habe keine Stimme in einer Schlacht, die ich nie versucht habe zu kämpfen. Vergib mir. Ich weiß nicht, was zu tun. Ich war unempfindlich. Ich war selbstsüchtig. Ich habe nie Zeit verbracht zu verstehen, was du meinst. Ich habe nur an mich, mich und mich gedacht. Ich kann nichts mehr fühlen. Es tut mir leid. Es tut mir sehr leid.

Aber ich will nicht traurig sein. Wir haben gute Zeiten verbracht. Wir haben zusammen gelacht. Wir haben uns zugehört. Wir waren schon an Orten. Wir waren für einander da. Ich werde mich nur an die guten Zeiten erinnern. Ich hoffe, dass du glücklich gewesen hast, auch nur einmal. 

Diese ist nicht auf Wiedersehen. Ich war und werde immer für dich da sein, und ich kann niemals auf Wiedersehen sagen. Vielleicht nur gute Nacht. Und Pass auf Dich auf. Und ich werde auf Ihre Antwort warten. Bis ich sterbe.

Immer mit Liebe,

xxx

P.S. Google Übersetzer sucks. Bitte vergib es auch.

NOODLES VS NUGGETS

The average Filipino household today still consists of young adults, if any, living with their parents. Typically, children don't leave the household unless they get married or find work that calls for relocation. With marriage statistics getting less and less in the last decade, this has all the more held true. There's also a segment called "boomerang" kids, or those who return home after having left. Reasons vary greatly but for most Filipinos, tradition simply holds.

Being away from home for more than a year now has been a tough ride. Someone up there heard my introvert prayers and granted me a single-apartment type room in the student dormitories when I first came in. It was just a walk away from the university, and I had the small kitchen all to myself. I don't have a car, of course, and most of my food shopping would be just by foot since transportation is not exactly cheap. I can if I opt to, but seriously, I would not spend 2 Euros for a 2-km ride. Social conditions are not perfect, and the student dorms only granted us non-Europeans a one-year contract --- we had to search for housing in the private market once that gets terminated in the summer. I had all the factors leading to a bumpy search for housing --- I'm a non-white student who comes from a developing country and who doesn't speak very good (not even good) German. Even the locals here compete for a decent private housing that would not cut their budgets largely. Not only once did I bid against locals and of course, we all know who got the deal. And the university did not help at all either. Angels are all over, however. I was able to move to a town about 11 kilometers away from the university, which is basically the stretch from Pasig to Pasay City. I obviously need to take buses now, and I need to wake up earlier and earlier as, similar to the worsening traffic in Metro Manila, the jam has been worsening in the highways too. Sometimes, buses don't come at all. When they declare a transport strike here, lines really get paralyzed. The weather sucks of course. Nobody ever gets used to winter, not even the natives (that's probably parallel to us never getting used to hot summers too). Budgeting is a challenge because of high rents and transportation costs. Food prices are surprisingly the same with Manila in general, which hurts me. Imagine we pay the same price as a developed country when our wages are f*cked up? But I must say that for someone who has never been away from home ever in her life, it's not exactly the budgeting nor the social conditions that has been most challenging for me --- it's taking care of myself.

I may be emotional at times, but I'm not the homesick-y type of person. I'm not a princess, either. I can cook (something edible, at least lol) and I know my way around house chores too (though I would give the crown to a good friend who's like the queen of dish-washing and house chores 😁). The problem is, I have been with my family quite too long that in my mind, the only time I would do all these things is when I will do it for them. Or for other people. It's not a bad thing per se, but in my case I just cannot do it when I know I'm not doing it for someone else. Yes, even cooking. A few months after overcoming the first hurdles, it has become a big deal for me to feed myself that I sometimes just did not eat at all. My psychological state went pretty bad, and academic pressure just worsened things. A lot of you would probably advise, just buy instant noodles or a take-away! Well, my strict adherence to the diet that I have been used to was another thing. I can NOT just eat anything, any processed thing, that I'd rather just not eat at all! Some might suggest, invite friends over and cook lunch together! Well, sometimes people drain the hell out of me so I fear that instead of eating lunch with them, I might end up eating them instead. Obviously, my bad choices recoiled. I developed a condition that is just one strand away from ulcer. That was the time I told myself, no, this is enough.

It was only then that I understood what "charity begins at home," in its most nuclear sense, really meant. Some people say that self-love is appreciating yourself more often, knowing your worth, acknowledging your strengths and working on your weaknesses, buying yourself some nice stuff from time to time, and rewarding yourself for your accomplishments. But for me, it probably goes several steps further back. It's nice to do things for other people, but I had to remind myself that I am as important as they are. As the Buddha said, compassion includes the self. For how can we actually consider other people's welfare when we are weak and literally dying? The thing is, you have to be stronger than your mind. It's so easy and convenient to stay where it's comfortable, but really, comfort is a huge temptation. Every single time it crosses my mind to skip meals, I say no, I will make a nice and fresh meal for myself today. It sounds quite embarrassing to be writing about all this, telling the world that I'm only realizing a fundamental lesson very late in life. But I guess I've also stopped thinking about what the world would say anyway.

Today, I have turned cooking from an obligatory task to more of a creative diversion. I rarely struggle now with the choice between cooking for myself or not. The struggle now is planning my meals in the most cost- and time-efficient ways, a task which a good friend back home helps me with. Perhaps it's preparing me to run a household in the future? 😆 Whatever it is, I'm just glad to have one big monkey off my back now. #

Hand-made chicken nuggets for lunch today. 

Not so healthy as it's fried, but it's fresh 

and preservative-free!