8 Dec 2019 – Three people obviously in distress and I could only hurry or look on.
A few days to Christmas, walking from worship, in the shadow of a name mall tower … [Read more.]
A not-so-clean lady with a not-so-clean bag, walking along the street, talking to herself. Sounds like a returned migrant worker (OFW), lamenting, deploring, her treatment by, of all people, her ungrateful family and relatives. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but her voice was so xxx strong.
A stocky old man, a street peddler, clad in faded khaki shorts, slumped in exhaustion, looking down at his worn slippers. I wondered how, in the heat of the street, he could endure lugging two net bags slung on a bamboo pole, each bag with three (yes, three!) large watermelons and five santols each. I wondered what time he would be finished peddling, and who were waiting for him at home.
A well-dressed fair lady trying to pay a fast-food shop with a credit card. She scrounged for pesos in her dainty wallet; she needed P32 more. She looked around, seeming helpless. Our eyes met. I would have shelled out the P32, but not in the times of #MeToo. She was too young; I could be charged with sexual harassment, worse even solicitation. She promised the cashier she will get money and come back, after eating, to pay the P32. To my surprise, the (lady) crew said yes! Amazing; the crew is risking 5% of her daily wage if the customer doesn’t come back.
