Youngblood : Please don't harm me
Leslie E. Vicente
Inquirer News Service
DON'T harm me. Please. I only have a few pesos in my wallet. Please do not take away my mobile phone because I don't have enough money to buy a replacement. Yes, this is a laptop. But it is the company's property, not mine. I cannot afford to lose all the important files it contains and work for a few months without compensation.
Four months ago when I moved near your place, I immediately had this fear of ending up one day another victim of violence. Forgive me for entertaining this thought. But every morning when I pass in front of that wretched shanty, I see you staring at me. Your filthy shirt probably has not been washed for at least a month and your hair has grown thick with dirt and dust. When I go home late at night after working overtime, I see you loitering in the neighborhood.
Among those who usually hang out at the street corner, you must be the most destitute. You cannot even afford a bottle of beer. While others drown themselves in alcohol and laugh at stories that have been retold so many times, you just stand there silent. While others have some miserable shelter of their own, you are homeless. When I come home late, I see you lying half-asleep on the cold, rough concrete sidewalk, with your arms folded to keep yourself warm.
You must be 28 years old. Despite the lack of proper nourishment, you look like you are capable of working. What happened to you and to the rest of your group? Your eyes tell a dozen stories about poverty and your constant struggle to sustain a seemingly hopeless existence. And I am bothered by the choices you have to make to feed your empty stomach. I fear you. I fear them.
One Friday morning, my roommate who has the same work as mine came home shivering in fear. It was about 2:30 a.m. She told me a man had grabbed her bag and tried to pull it away. She screamed for help. Alarmed, the robber fled.
If all he wanted (or got) were money, then the damage would not be too much. But what if in the process, the victim got seriously hurt or even killed? The daily news constantly reminds us that we live in a world that is increasingly becoming dangerous.
You might not believe me, but my heart grieves when I see you suffer. I can see myself in your shoes. My heart bleeds because I know there is very little I can do to help you. A piece of bread and a few coins would not be enough to sustain you for a day. You cannot count on others to always give you alms. Most people's paychecks are not enough to provide for their own families.
You need a job that would make you self-reliant. Unfortunately, I am just a 22-year-old employee, so I cannot offer you one. In fact, I know a number of jobless college graduates who are seeking the same assistance. I honestly do not know how to help you but I think there are things you can do to help yourself.
Do you see that old man with a fish-ball stand over there? How about those kids who go from house to house collecting empty bottles? Do you notice the peddlers roving around in the intense heat just to sell their goods? I do not know how much they earn or whether they earn enough to be able to eat three times a day. But I admire their industry and their perseverance as they struggle to survive.
I do not know your life story. But whatever happened to you in the past, you cannot change it. This is the world we live in now, whether we like it or not. This is what things have become. This is what we have become.
To some extent, I fear those suspicious-looking people I ride with on a jeepney or in the Metro Rail Transit. I am wary of the driver when I take a taxi home late at night. My heart beats faster when I pass by people drinking on the sidewalk as I hurry to my place every time our area is closed to vehicles. I take note of the people around me whenever I go to crowded areas.
We live in an age when one can never be too cautious. Otherwise, we might find our wallets missing or our house emptied of valuables and appliances. We might be kidnapped or raped or even murdered. And it really upsets me to realize that the people who could do these things to us are our own people and that things like these happen in our homeland.
Yes, I fear you. And I fear them.
Nevertheless, you deserve my gratitude. Every day when I whine about how difficult my work is, you remind me how fortunate I am. You make me grateful for what I am and for what I have.
My faith is strengthened every time I say a prayer that I may arrive home safe and sound. My trust in Him is the only shield I have.
Although I try to convince myself that you have no intention of hurting people, I cannot get rid of this fear. Please, don't harm me.
And please do not look at me like that. I won't get your knapsack.
Leslie E. Vicente, 22, is a certified public accountant at the accounting firm of Joaquin Cunanan & Co. In college, she was the editor of White&Blue, the official student publication of Saint Louis University in Baguio City.
