Warning: Old people working

Original image from flickr.com

In the early 2000s, when I was much younger, more naive and still working and residing in Makati, my wife and I chanced upon an old man on our way home.  He was, in my estimation, in his 70's.  He was frail, reed thin, hunched and struggling with his movement as he tried to put one foot ahead of the other -- his entire body gyrating wildly that he had to use every ounce of his energy if only to remain upright.  Only one of his hands was free which he put to use by grabbing on to any thing solid -- an electric post, a steel railing, or a plant -- to keep his body from falling on the pavement, his other hand held on tightly to a portfolio.

People -- bystanders, passengers of  jeeps, taxis and private vehicles, working masses on their way home or to the mall -- gawked as he writhed forward, alarmed and bothered, as I was.  No one did anything more than stare and offer a cringed look to suggest mercy for the old man's plight, except for me and my wife who gallantly approached the  old man to ask him where he was going.

But before he could answer our question, he volunteered where he was earlier that day.  He flipped open the pages of his portfolio to show his hospital records at PGH where he explained that, in a trembling, half-whisper voice, the doctors no longer wanted to treat him or provide for his medicines, nor is the PCSO willing to shoulder his medical expenses.  He said he has given up hope, as he proceeded to struggle forward once more.

I held his arm to brace his footfall and I could feel the old man's bone creak beneath the thin muscle under his wrinkled skin.  I asked him again where he was going, and he said to Cavite, where he lived.  Cavite was a long ways from the Makati Square area where we were, and he was walking away from where I know he can catch a ride to that faraway place.  So I told him,"Lo, eh hindi po dyan ang sakayan papunta sa inyo."  I offered to at least bring him to where he can catch his ride.  He refused and instead continued on his way, albeit ever so slowly that it was impossible for him to leave us behind, and the help we were then convinced to give.

I excavated P200 from my wallet and offered it to the old man, which he took with a gracious, "Salamat mga apo, pagpalain nawa kayo ng Diyos."  We turned around with a heavy heart, wishing that the old man would be alright.  It was a prayer that would be answered after a few days.

From a Facebook post

I recalled this incident because a few days ago I encountered on Facebook a similar story. The characters may be different but the circumstances were oddly familiar: old person, struggling to move, meets young person, willing to help.

Life, sometimes is a series of coincidences.  The other day, as I was biking my way home from a short ride around the Lipa-Lodlod-Pangao-San Jose loop, I chanced upon a roadside stall that sold dalanghita.  At only P15 a kilo, I can have a pasalubong for my wife and still have a P5 change out of my usual P20 baon.

The fruit stand was tended by, what do you know, another very old woman, maybe pushing on 80, if not already there.  She had a very steelly air about her, not really ideal for someone whose intent is to sell her wares.  But it is the dalanghita that I wanted and the old woman's presence was just incidental.  So I asked, "Matamis po ba 'to, lola?"  And she answered,"Ay, 'di tikman mo," as she shoved a fruit my way.

I observed her as I peeled the dalanghita.  She was looking back at me as I scanned her dark expressionless face, lined by the length of years behind her.  "Asin?  Kaunti la-ang dahil ayan naman ay matam-is," as she offered an open small glass jar with her coarse hand and thick, gnarly fingers.

I tried to make light of the situation by acknowledging that indeed, her dalanghita was sweet and juicy as she had claimed.  She only nodded, "Ba-inte pa yan sa palengke."

It was around 4:30 in the afternoon and students from a nearby public elementary school were passing by on foot on their way to their respective homes; some noisily, others  running, and a few alone.  One boy, with a streak of liquid running down a nostril, passed by, and demanded, "Lola, pahingi ng isa"

This riled the old woman. "Aba'y hihingi ka naman?!" she shot back with a mean stare.

"Eto lang naman ho," the boy fingering one of the three fruits that were obviously set aside for they were damaged or had already signs of rotting.

The old woman did not protest when the boy picked up one of the fruits.  Instead she handed another fruit, a good one, "Oh, ayan. Alis na!"  The boy left smiling, not even saying thank you.

"Ay ganyan yaan lagi, ay sasabihin, ay kami'y mahirap laang," she shared with a hint of irritation in her voice.  "Ay imik ko, ako ga'y mukhang mayaman?"

She handed me a plastic bag containing a kilo of dalanghita in exchange for my P20.  She searched for a P5 coin as I placed my fruits inside my bag.  I can see that she only had a handful of bills, 50s and some 20s, in her purse-- proof that she was not selling much.

She gave me my change.  As I was about to mount my bike, she asked, "Saan ka ga uuwi?  And I told her, not far, just behind the military base which was only about a kilometer away.  "Ay siya sige, mag-ingat ka, bumili ka ulit dito ha," she bade without showing a tinge of emotion.

"Sige po, La," and she simply nodded, the sagging skin around her eyes failing to mask the defiant sheen of her stare that asked for neither mercy, nor sympathy.  I was just another customer out of several, and it was just another day out of many where honest living can be had.

It is now 2012.  I am older, wiser and perhaps more jaded; a far cry from what I was in the early 2000's when I was easily moved by dramatic scenes of perceived  inequality and social injustice.  Though, I haven't lost my love for humanity or my belief in the innate goodness of man, experience has thought me not to be easily swayed by what I see on the surface because there is always a story that we may not see, but would clearly explain, however strange, why things are the way they are.

Around a week after the sad incident with the frail, old man I was at an intersection waiting for the traffic light to signal that I could cross the street.  And lo and behold, to my side was the old man also doing the same.  I looked at him intently and his eyes met mine, I knew he did not recognize me for it was only a  fleeting glance.  He was merely scanning strange faces.   But I was sure it was him.  I could not forget his thin, swept back hair, his freckled face and his lean frame.

By the time the traffic light changed color, a small crowd had accumulated that left little elbow room to move around.  On cue, we all stepped forward -- the old man included.  But his step was sure and not belabored; in fact, he was agile and sprite.  He seemed to be in a hurry as he nimbly maneuvered around slower moving pedestrians like a teenager late for a date; no sign whatsoever of the malaise that bedeviled his tired body only a few days ago.  It's either he has found the fountain of youth, or, I humbly admitted -- I was had by the old man.

I am not saying that the old woman that a Facebook citizen met and helped took advantage of the innate kindness of a stranger but the circumstances that surrounded her story are eerily similar from those of my experience with the old man who can barely move.  I believe that there is no limit to what the human spirit can do, but I must also admit that there is no age limit to people who would take advantage  of those who are only too willing to share their heart.


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