DISGUSTED
BUT I HAD NO REMORSE
Iligan City- Sometime in the late summer before
entering the 7th grade (1999), I wandered over from the avenue of
the Cathedral Church and waited for a jeepney ride. The sun pressed warmly
against my open lids, and vaguely annoyed. I throw an arm over my eyes and
moved restlessly on the side of the road. For a few minutes I was comfortable;
then an awful smell seemed to creep under my nose and search me out. I was
disgusted! Not because I was impatient for my ride, but because a number of
street kids who smelled like dung bump me.
These kids hurried over to meet in one corner and made
a commotion. I scowled to myself, and asked. Who are these stinky kids? Judging
from the way they look, I knew they were street kids. In Iligan City, these
kids are at high risk of murder, regular abuse and inhumane treatment. They
often result to theft and prostitution just to live. They are extremely susceptible
to sexually transmitted diseases including HIV/AIDS. Majority of them are
addicted to inhalants such as shoe glue and paint thinner, which cause kidney
failure, irreversible brain damage and, in some cases, death.
All of them were on a wary stance sitting in circle
paying close attention to a person talking. I looked over. I pushed my hair
back from my eyes and look earnestly toward the crowd. It was bright, clear
afternoon. The old watch on my wrist showed it was a quarter past twelve. I
wish I could have gone on the ride, but my curiosity led me to undermine my
nosiness. I could sense a wind of peace as the voice of a man stood up coming
from the crowd. And behold, I saw a man wearing a slip on jeans and a cool,
crisp shirt, and a suede structured blazer with a black book in his hand in the
middle of the street kids. His face was covered with sweat, and his hairy hands
are made even more profound when he raised the black book and audaciously said,
“You all have
a good future, press on, I believe in you. Never stop thanking God for what you
have!”
I asked myself, how could someone stand an awful smell
and so audacious enough to tell a group of kids who doesn’t even take a bath
that they have a “good future”? Why would someone spend time in the poorest of
the poor just to tell them that a good future awaits them? Why would someone
place hope on kids who will eventually have an irreversible brain damage and
extremely vulnerable to sexually transmitted diseases? Why would someone tell a
person who has nothing except their bodies to thank the great provider for
everything that they have? What profit will this man get if he will help a
person that has nothing to give in return? It is such a crazy feat, isn’t it?
After some time, the man together with his crew gave
meal foods to these poverty stricken children. And I could see how the food gave
smiles to their faces. I saw a little girl probably around 11 or 12 years old.
Sometimes her shade was up and I could get a good look. I was glad that she was
there, for that made it necessary for her to fill her empty stomach and to hear
those encouraging words. I began to feel an excited guilt in me. I stood by the
open road and breathed deeply. Slowly I said to myself: “Poverty
maybe a complicated issue, but feeding a child isn’t. There’s always hope in everything!” After a few moments of this I
began to feel the guilt go away.
Then I saw the man laid his hands on these kids and
prayed. I stared at him coldly. “This guy is unbelievable!” I said. He closed
his eyes, lifted his right hands and made a curious gesture and said “Father I
asked you …. Protection, good health, understanding…...”
The little girl saw me staring, and she stared back at me. The smile left her
face, and an expression of excitement came into it. I looked up at her face
again and she was smiling with tears. The man stopped praying and then the
commotion was over. I saw the kids went
away with happy faces, walking unflinchingly like they are the true hope of the
future.
The commotion was my ticket, and the generosity showed
by the man brought me to a hopeful journey – A hope that is able to see that
there is light despite of all the darkness. It was the first day of my life
that I remembered didn’t fade into yesterday. And all the days of my life
became tomorrow just because of some crazy feat.
I turned away, my shoulders heavy and sagging. I felt
sorry for the kids but was moved by the man’s guidance and compassion. “Forget
it?” I began to laugh. “How can I forget the things I’ve seen- the hope, the
sadness, the fears, the love and the compassion. It’s for me to ask, but how
can I?
Yes I was disgusted, but I had no remorse.
15 YEARS
LATER
I paused in front of an internet cafe for a moment,
peering through the window. It was my first day to visit Iligan City after 6
years of working away from home. My reflection peered back at me, my hair
gleaming with a bluish tinge from the glass that made it almost white. The cafe
was empty, only one man behind a computer screen. I walked in. The man looked up at me. “Need something?” he
asked in a surly voice. “Can you tell me the name of that man on the screen
giving foods?” I replied. I could see
his eyes widen slightly. “The preacher?” he asked, a note of respect coming
into his voice. “Cocoy Sabarre, Pastor
Cocoy Sabarre”
The memory came back after 15 years. It was the same
man who did a crazy feat on the roads of the Cathedral 15 years ago. I turned
silently and went through the door. It was still morning, too early for the
customers to be in. I shook my head in astonishment. I looked back on the
screen outside the café. “He lived through it” I said. I knew it. “It has been
15 years since I heard from this man. Until now, I still see him feeding the
hungry, and give hope to the hopeless.”
I got on a taxi leaving the internet café as I looked
back through the window staring at those pictures (Cocoy Sabarre). It had begun
to rain. I settled back into the seat
and opened my Google page to search for his name. It wasn’t until we were
rolling through the flatlands of Mahayahay that I saw the item in one of the
Iligan blogs. And, even seeing it there in the cold black type, I found it hard
to believe.
“There had
been rumors about Pastor Cocoy Sabarre’s plan to run as mayor in the 2016 local
elections. It started with the Facebook group May
Pag-asa Ka Pa Movement. …He finally laid to rest the rumors by officially
announcing in September 26 in Villa Sabarre that indeed he will be running for the
top position in Iligan City in 2016. – Iligan.org
I sank back slowly in my seat and read the article
again. Hope stole into me. My face set into hopeful lines. “Iligan is going to
rise up.” I knew after the ambush me incident, and the previous and current
administrations lack of visible hope, there is still hope. – A hope that is
able to see that there is light despite of all the darkness.
I am always skeptic of a church man running for
political office. A bitter sweet taste rose into my mouth. It was true. It
wasn’t a dream, then; I couldn’t escape. I began to question my doubts and my
orientation about church men. Will I give him a chance? I shook my head. “Uhuh.
We need change, we need hope, Iligan needs revival” Alas, I am still skeptical.
“No!” I answered bitterly. I know that stupidity combined with arrogance and a
huge ego will bring anyone nowhere. “This man may not be a politician, but I
know he has the heart for the poor, he is unceasingly kind. I was there, I saw
him.” I know that kindness is the only language which the deaf can hear and the
blind can see. My outside world stopped for a moment. That really did it.
“There is nobody else we could depend now in Iligan, he must win!” I said to
myself.
The taxi stopped, and I walked out. I stopped dead in
my tracks, blinking my eyes and paid the fare. I had heard about this but I’d
really never believe it. My arrogance and skepticism should be out of the
moving picture, it doesn’t belong in a partly condemned man like him. “He needs
to win!”, “He has to win!”
“Welcome home!” Dad was smiling as he approached me in
the wet gate entrance. I watched the taxi cab disappear around the turn of the
first block. We turned and look each
other. He smiled at me and put his arms around my shoulder. “Iligan city is still
the same since you went away, or even worse than you could ever think” he said
with a gloomy tone.
I stared at him, and blatantly replied:
“I don’t
think so, a visionary has already risen, and he will be the worst enemy of
corruption!”
IN A
NUTSHELL
This is a time to be wary
against reverting to those times in our history when we divided ourselves on
the basis of religious faith.
This would bode well for a city
in which skeptics and non-skeptics of all stripes should have a welcome place
at the political table. And, in which, we can envision a person of character --
who falls on any place along the religious spectrum -- serving nobly and strongly
as leader of this great and pluralistic city.
A visionary has risen, we
will redeem back what we have lost.
