Affection and Affectation

Letters when grouped and arranged in a certain way create words. When rearranged or set differently they create new meanings. Take the word affection. It means tender attachment or fondness, a positive word by nature. Insert the word AT between the letters T and I and the word affectation is created. The latter means an attempt to assume what is not real or an artificial behavior. Affectation is a word that reeks of falsehood. Both words though share the same root word which is affect and it refers to the experience of feeling or emotion, to have an influence or bring about change. Indeed, affection and affectation can make anyone experience certain feelings or emotions; be influenced; or, even be changed.

Affection is assumed to be inherent among siblings especially among us Filipinos who grow up with the family as the center of our universes. The older children are constantly reminded of their responsibility to take care of the younger ones and the extent of patience that must be exercised. Younger siblings are continually told to be obedient and respectful towards the older ones. The affection that is inculcated by the adults is assumed to remain even when the siblings get married, have children of their own, and pursue careers within or outside of the country. Tolerance, compassion and understanding are commonly called for when a sibling commits indiscretion, misdemeanor or any form of wrong doing against the family or society. Older siblings, inspired by their affection for the younger ones, strive so hard to finish college early and get a job so that they could financially support their siblings. Among Filipinos it has become common that the eldest postpones marriage before he or she has sent brothers and sisters to college; it is not an obligation but more of a noble act of affection.

Due to certain reasons or circumstances such as favoritism and lack of opportunity to bond, siblings fail to develop affection. In order though to retain the approval of parents and the elders in the family, an affectation for such is crafted when the children are younger. As they grow older, become more independent and get a greater share of life’s challenges less any favorable circumstances that would augment sibling relations, the affectation disintegrates and becomes dangerous. There are brothers who shot or physically assault their brothers over a piece of land, an insulting remark, or a woman. There are sisters who had written off their sisters over bitter words, gossips, or criticisms.

Recently the national channels and newspapers had been full of news, opinions and other articles regarding the death of Ramgem Revilla and the alleged involvement of two of his siblings in the commission of his murder. People gathered in small groups in restaurants, public transportations, and even in the privacy of their homes speculate as to the events that brought about this sadness to the Revilla family. When the two siblings became the prime suspects there was a general and shared aghast. Some said that the victim must have been such a bad person that his siblings had him murdered. Others said that the siblings must be very bad persons because they had their brother murdered.

Their story is not unique because in the history of human race, stories of fratricide have been told and one of the most well-known is that of Cain and Abel. In Roman mythology, Romulus killed Remus over who had the blessing of the gods. There was a time when a new Sultan of the Ottoman Empire started his reign by imprisoning his living brothers and commanded to have them strangulated once he had produced a male heir. Whatever the real story is, it is their story. Whatever their story though, it must be about affection and affectation.

Kulop I

Uswag, dinhi la kita ha bungsaran pag-istorya kay may lamrag pa.
Oo, dida iton ha atubangan hira Mana Maring nag-ukoy.
Puro na kabagwakan. Hapilan han baya han mga panimalay.
Sobrahay na baynte anyos naman gud an naglabay han pagpundara
Niya tikang han iya pagminaistra. Kakarag la hit nga tuna.
Kay ano ka nanmimiling ha iya? Asya daw, alagid-agid im
Bayhon ha iya han waray pa kaguba han waray kurukarigo.
An suhag ka ngay-an niya? Oo, alakis kay han kinse anyos ak
Bilinbilin kamo ha ak. Ikaw an tres anyos, im maghod puya pa.
Amo adto nga panuig an iya bana, an im amay, bumaya.

Waray na ngay-an kamo kumita ha iya? Mangno patay na gihap
Hiya, it ak la ampo, nangaro hiya ha iya kalugaringon
Hin mga pasaylo han iya damo nga pagsayop kan Mana Maring.
Pastilan, it na iyo amay, han kapinaura han iyo iroy.
Gintagan hin liawan, gutiay nga tindahanay ha merkado.
Hin kamalabad! gin-kerida an disiotso anyos nga kabulig
Ngan lumaspay hira dara kan im nanay hiniposhipos nga mga
Alahas! Siring niya, “Para gud inin hira hit ak mga anak.”

Oday, im nanay lumagapak ha tuna han pakahibaro niya.
Kamagutaw-i, naningkamot hiya panimangno ha iyo ngan han
Pagmaistra. Ugaring, naturnawo hiya.  Waray na pakasulod
Ha iskwelahan. Han ginkuha kamo han kag-anak han iyo amay
Lumagapak na liwat hiya didto ha tuna han iyo bungsaran.
Hadto manggud, pagpukrat han mata, waray na gud hiya mangilala.
Yakan ak Nanay Bising, “Adto hi Maria lumakat may bitbit nga
Asul nga bag.” Tikang gud man hadto, waray na hiya humiling ngan
Umuli ngada ha atubangan. Kun iginkatarapo ha dalan
Bisan pag-asi waray. Nahisabtan ko, didto hiya nakaturog
Ha kamposanto kay mahimyang daw. Nakakaon la adto hiya kun
Di ginbubusyo hi Mana Salbing nga paragputo didto ha Candao.
Danay manggud ni Mana Maring igintakyab iya mga paninda.
Pamilya? Waray hiya iba na pamilya kay ilo adto hiya.

Nakapahuway ha kadayunan hi iyo nanay kaligis niya.
Waray hiya nadara ha ospital kay napurtahan dayon hiya.
An mga taga-Highway an nag-areglar ha iya lubong ngan waray
Lamay. Nakasabot nala kami pagkinabuwasan. Hinin una
La adto nga tuig. Seguro naharap na kay mga singkwenta na
Adto iya edad, waray kumita han dako pa-Maasin nga bus.
Ta anuman, masulod na ak kay baga masirom na. Sige hinay
Nala haim paglakat. Ay anay, hapit na ak mahangalimot,
An asul daw nga bag ni iyo nanay adto kan Mana Salbing anak.
Waray kaano, gin-abrihan nira. Puno hin kodak. Puros kanan bata.

On Monday Mornings

In my slumber I felt you releasing
me from your all night long tight embrace;
I knew it was 4 o’ clock in the wee Monday
morning. Half awake I inhaled your coffee
brewing and pictured you pouring it in your
mug followed by half a spoon of sugar.

I heard you coming in; I feigned sleep.
You caressed my forehead and whispered,
“I have to go now. I can’t be late.”
I took your hand to my lips and you
burrowed into my nape. As always,
even with wanting more said,
I just mumbled, “Take care.”

When the door’s lock clicked,
I knew it was 5 o’ clock in the wee Monday
morning. I turned around because my back
has turned cold. I tried to capture in haste
with my cold hand the warmth of
the other side of the bed,
alas, it was colder.

Jeepney Everyday (Version 2)

I take a jeepney ride in going to work and coming home; and, I pay P9.00 each time. I take a jeepney ride when I go to parties or gathering with friends, meetings with colleagues, and utility companies to settle the bills; and, I pay at least P7.50. A jeepney ride may be the cheapest mode of transportation for any Taclobanon but it houses treasures of philosophical interplays and reprieves between destinations shared amongst strangers and sometimes familiar faces who at the point of convergence inside a jeepney are acquaintances by chance and necessity.

Each passenger pays his or fare without being prompted by the driver; and, the driver stops at the nearest destination advantageous to the passengers. There are times when the driver overcharges the passenger and immediately it is settled by a swift, "Mano, tikang la ako may Coca-Cola," and the former giving back to the latter the extra peso or fifty centavos. There are cases too when the driver returns extra centavos or a peso and the passenger without much ado gives them back to him and saying, "Mano, sobra im sukli." Between them come the other passengers who serve as carriers of the extra or lacking change and at the same time mediators; they side either with the driver or the concerned passenger without any bias at all and just have fair fare as their guide.

Nobody is disallowed to take the ride because of civil status, sexual orientation, color, economic status, body mass, fashion taste or whatever superficial standards. Nobody is given preference in terms of seat space; everyone is expected to pay the amount equitable to the space occupied. In fact there are even cases when the driver exercises pro bono when someone does not have enough fare or when someone gets off because he left something- all these decisions made in quick seconds. There are instances when the driver keeps on taking in more passengers in order to reach the quota seating capacity even when there is no space anymore but this is immediately rectified by simply saying, “Mano, puno na.” When there are passengers who knock on the roof to signal that they want to get off even if the next stop is a just a few meters away, the driver would say, “Unhan la kay bawal didi.”

The driver exercises expert discernment whether to take passenger in or not and the same with the passenger too as to whether to take the offered ride or not. When a passenger says, "Mano, may St. Paul's ako," the driver would say "Maliko ngadto LNU," and right there on the passenger decides whether to take or not the jeepney ride. Even when the driver fails to refuel before he started his route resulting to a stop or two at gasoline stations passengers do not complain; and, when a passenger wears a strong perfume that causes nasal congestion the other passengers do not breathe a word of irritation at all.

Inside the jeepney, everyone looks at each other without seeing each other. The jeepney is filled with silent individual thoughts. The thoughts are either at rest or occupied by the minute details of daily routines, fantasies, and even dreams of life ahead. In a jeepney, a working woman with her children hurrying for school and work is in equal state of suspension from all her points of departure and destination as much as a man who is going home from his night job as a security officer. There is that shared lull of peace where everything about life seems to stand still. The driver ensures that this is sustained by barring those who might wreck it such as a drunk or unruly prospective passenger by simply saying, "Pasensya mano."

A Sunday Not So Long Ago

This is unfinished. Unrevised.

In the kitchen, I was there.
Out in the porch, she was there.

The screened aluminum kitchen door
framed her milk laden squared shoulders
outlined by a low back spaghetti-
strapped white shirt. Her short hair was
dark chocolate on her naked nape.

In the kitchen, I drank coffee.
Out in the porch, she drank coffee.

Her arms, which used to remind me of cheese,
were of the color of toasted bread.
She once said, “It’s all because of red.”
I smirked. Her favored soda
was red and she worked for it.

In the kitchen, I boiled eggs.
Out in the porch, she busied.

I heard her broke her silence, “Oh, no! Why”
She clutched the brittle leafless rose twigs
as if they were dead babies of hers.
She stabbed the side of the pail
of invisible roots of roses.
The pail, bleached by fifteen hundreds of suns
and battered by scores of typhoons,
gave up its machine-painted children
who rode merry go round horses
and their smiles of picture perfectness.

In the kitchen, I did rice.
Out in the porch, she busied.
In the kitchen, I fried danggit.
Out in the porch, she worked hurried.

With her callused palms and naked fingers,
which she used when eating dried fishes,
she freed the roots from the dark rich earth.
She snipped rotten ones away-
Moved the roses to a pot made of clay.

Out of the kitchen to the porch
I brought plates: empty and full.
Into the kitchen from the porch
She brought dirt she had to wash off.

Out of the kitchen to the porch
was a pitcher of orange juice.
She poured a glass for me and her.
Out in the porch, we breakfasted.

Metamorphosis

As a child, I was brought up to value education. Every time I massaged her back with my pre-adolescent fingers, Nanay told me to give my best effort and maximize the opportunities of education. When I was in high school, I used to pluck her white hairs and she urged me to become a CPA. She believed it to be financially rewarding; respectable and honorable; and, she always had wanted to become one. In all those occasions, she never failed to end her discussion with, “Waray ko iba nga maitatagubilin ha im kun diri an edukasyon. Bisan san-o di it mawawara haim upod han tanan nga napabutnga han im duha nga talinga.” I once found a crumpled faded part of a letter from one of my uncles addressed to my father which said, “Nestor, ang taong nakapag-aral ng tama kailanman ay di mapapalupig at di manlulupig.” My maternal grandparents had the greatest praises for three relatives who were all siblings because they were a lawyer, an engineer, and a teacher-nun. All of them pointed me to a direction where education was not only an end to itself but a means to achieve affluence, respectability, honor, and admiration.

Since I started to consciously think of education though, I have unceasingly discovered and rediscovered that it is much greater than the achievement of all the glories attached to it. It is a metamorphosis that leads me home to the best place in the world… myself. First, I learned that formal education is not the absolute form of education and that I could learn a lot of things without undergoing it; and that I could learn by reading, doing, listening and getting some informal mentoring. Second, it has brought complete changes in the way I viewed a lot of things. I used to think that the world is unjust but I was disproven by history that there will always be people who will fight and die for justice. I always have thought that death is unbearable but then as I studied biology, chemistry, psychology, and mythology I realized that it is a fact and something that can be postponed but never evaded. I always felt that I had to pay a certain price just to enjoy beauty but when I took up literature I saw that poetry is free. Third, it has equipped me with skills that I need for my sources of livelihood and above all, for living. I have acquired the technical competencies I need as a CPA and a teacher. I have become prepared to take on the challenges of life anytime because I have learned to enjoy, analyze and deconstruct both abstractions and facts with an objectivity that only education could afford.

It seems though that today’s youth are more interested in just getting a diploma than acquiring the knowledge, skills, and attitudes that they would need for their future livelihood and prepare themselves for the greater responsibilities of life. Most of them do not feel the need to pursue endeavors such as self-improving tasks that are not required by formal education. Within or without the classroom, they prefer to stick to what is required to earn the grade to complete their degrees. They have not realized that the purpose of education is metamorphosis; that with it they can transform to someone better for whatever purposes it may be- grand or not. When I asked some youngsters though about the purpose of their education, most of them answered that they want to finish their programs so that they could go abroad and earn greater amounts of money that could never be realized in the Philippines. In fact, the 2003 World Bank Country Report on the Philippines by Josefina Santamaria and A.G. Watts states that for the past two decades, students have flocked to courses such as information technology, nursing, teaching, and care giving because of their big demand abroad. Furthermore, the Personnel Management Association of the Philippines found out in one of its recent surveys that most college graduates are not prepared to take on entry level jobs in accounting, sales, and administrative positions because they have poor communication skills; low self-confidence; and, lack of technical skills. There are students who have managed to reach their final year in college but have failed to develop the simple skill of creating a cohesive and well-thought of paragraph. There are many graduates who know the procedures and know-how of tasks but do not have the appreciation and understanding of the principles involved. This could be fatal because it makes them functional illiterates who would easily crumble under the toils of pressure, responsibilities, and decision making.

The youth must learn to value education. They need to be educated on what they need in order to prepare them for their professions and lives. They need to be taught the importance of what they need to learn too so that they would not grow up acting like automatons incapable of thought, discovery, self-criticism, and sound judgment. They need to be educated for their sake; they must not just be trained just to become sources of labor both locally and abroad because wage is not the sole purpose of education. They must be educated to bring the best out of them so that they may bask in a life that is well-lived and well-thought of. They need to have their metamorphosis or else they are doomed to suffer.

Naiibog versus Naawa

Another post on FB that generated much attention. :)

Success, a Question

One evening sometime in June 2011, I took a tricycle ride home. The driver asked me, “Ma’am kay ano ka nagpakyaw na damo pa man dyip tikadto San Jose? Ginkakapoy ka?”  I leaned a bit forward and turned my head to the left to get a clearer glimpse of his time-weathered countenance that was blurry under the beams of the dim street lights. I slowly replied, “Libre ko ini ha ak kalugaringon mano.” I saw a smile crawling from the corners of his lips and serious thoughtfulness leapt from his eyes. When they met, I saw his young dead ringer who said, “Maupay iton,” and to it I replied, “Salamat mano.” As we progressed in travel he told me bits of his life: he never finished college; he resides in a rented house with his wife and two teenage daughters; everyday is financially challenging; he pays boundary to the owner of the tricycle; and, his happiness especially when he is home. Our encounter dissolved into silence as we shortened the distance to my destination but in my forever I will call him Manong Driver.

Thank you to whoever made this drawing. No source was cited.

I was recently asked, “What is success?” I saw their shoulders stooped and eyes averted under my steady stare after I said, “I do not know.” It was as if I committed a great social blunder that was beyond reparation. It would have been friendlier to say that success is the achievement of recognition, fame and glory in any chosen field; educational attainment that eases the hustles and bustles of job procurement and respect; or, financial stability that could afford the most recent models of mobile phones,  computers, game gadgets, houses, travel, and other modern luxuries. However they felt or whatever they thought were of no consequence to me because at the back of my mind the smile of the young dead ringer lingered and a miniscule of that memory badgered the thinking me with these questions, “How about Manong Driver? He does not have any of those; does it mean he is not successful? Does it mean he is a failure?”

People often say the phrase BIG TIME with awe and admiration on their face and when asked the cause of their reaction the usual answers are wealth, fame, and power. When relatives from abroad come home for a vacation they become instant celebrities because of their perceived affluence. Taclobanons and visitors rushed on June 25 to Robinson’s Place to see some currently popular Manila-based actors; the event caused one of the heaviest traffic jams by far in the area. When VP Binay came to Tacloban I saw at least a hundred of photos proclaiming proximity and acquaintance posted on Facebook by several friends and acquaintances. But, are they successful?

Everyone wants to be called successful or be associated with success; nobody would want to be called a failure or be associated with it. The pursuit for success has pushed individuals such as Nelson Mandela from disadvantageous backgrounds to strive and achieve greater political and social statuses. The consummation of the pursuit has brought about happiness and exhilaration to those who circumvent all barriers. Nevertheless, its absence has driven away some people from attending reunions with classmates or relatives; led a friend to commit suicide; and, has turned the eyes of good hearted people green thereby making them behave like dogs catching their tails. Nevertheless, the want to be seen as successful has imprisoned lots of souls such as the Ampatuans in the cages of avarice for wealth, fame, or power.

The question though that matter for me now is this, is success necessary that we live pursuing it? If it is, then I will redefine it so that next time when asked I would be able to properly reply. If it is, then it would mean doing best what one does best; loving what one is doing; giving the best in one’s self to bring out the best in others; not quitting just because one fears failure; and, above all, not pursuing it… let it be an afterthought of a fruitful, wise, just and happy life. Even Manong Driver does not want to be called unsuccessful… a failure, because he is not.

Litson ngan Gaway

Inin kamagsarangkay

sugad hin litson ngan gaway.

Panit hit litson, tambok

ngan unod waray mapantay.

Ugaring, kun di asya

an timplada- an kalangsa

labaw hasang han isda.

An katam-is ngan tigson

han gaway... himaya ha at

kangipunan ngan dila.

Ugaring kun mapan-os na

katol napairapa.

Igsura an litson samtang

nagsasamsam hin gaway;

im ngaran mahangalimtan.

Basta upaya gud la
im pagtimpla ngan pagtuon

sugad han kamagsarangkay.

The Daguitan Bridge in Me

The Daguitan River (Photo is courtesy of Meg Jocson)

In April 1984 I was a nine year old awakening to the implications of the life changing decision of Auntie, as I fondly called my Aunt Letty, to marry. The entangled emotions of fear and anticipation were so suffocating and heart wrenching that I cried the whole time Gaano Ko Ikaw Kamahal played. I was so afraid that the new chapter in her life might mean my loss. I was so full of anticipation for the moment that I would love and hug her children the way she loved and hugged me.

In the midst of all the wedding celebration which was followed by two weeks of fracas brought about by visiting relatives of varying degrees, I wanted solace so that I could think of how things would change even if she already told me that nothing would be different because I knew they would be. I tried to think of how I would deal with the weekends which I used to spend with her- we bathed in the Daguitan River; read books; listened to music especially ABBA and the Carpenters; and played cards. I tried to figure out whom to run to when things get awry at home since she and Tio Dan planned to settle outside of Dulag. I tried to think but everyone was just so festive thus I failed. In spite of the happiness surrounding me I was a very worried nine-year old. Despite this selfish worrying, I imagined her smiling face while her children would run to her the way I always did.

The need to be alone to think and resolve internal conflict was born to me. Then, what I could do to be alone without the adults getting anxious came to me. During one of the family’s big simple dinners, I volunteered to walk from Barbo to Fatima selling ice candies made by Nanay. At first my mother disagreed and said, “Mag-iiritom ka kay mapaso,” and my quick reply was, “Ayla ito Nanay, marisyo man.”

The next day, I left home at nine in the morning with an ice box full of yellow and red condiments as my ticket to solace. I was shaded by the trees that lined up the Maharlika Highway. When I reached the middle of the Daguitan Bridge, I became completely immersed in the unrelenting objectivity of the sun and the strong yet so kind breezes of the river and the Pacific Ocean. I stopped walking and put down the ice bucket. I sat on the side walk of the bridge facing the river going to the ocean; and, for the first time in weeks I was happy. While motorcycles passed with passengers and drivers hurrying to destinations unknown to me, I felt that everything made sense and thought that everything was connected. In the river and the ocean, I saw how Auntie’s marriage connected her more to me and how the generations that she would give forth to the world be connected to me. My young awakening self recognized the individuality of human beings through her and the singleness of lives including hers. For the first time, I understood the freedom of letting go of possessing someone because it was just an illusion because in truth we are all one, we are all connected.

On that day, the Daguitan Bridge in me was born. When things in life get so muddled, I go to that place in me and remember that awakening nine year old who learned to change perspectives and saw the world in its full glory. When things in life get so intoxicatingly fine, I go to that place in me so that I will never forget the unrelenting objectivity of the sun and the strong yet so kind breezes of the river and the Pacific Ocean.

My Auntie, Ms. Letecia Garcia-Cabanero. She has two wonderful children, Gladys and Bryan. She lives in Brgy. Salvacion, Dulag, Leyte with Tio Dan. They are my sanctuary. They have become more than blood to me.

Jeepney Everyday

Dyipni by Neenun Benitez

Epicurus says that for one to be happy one has to be just and wise; to be wise, happy and just; and, to be just, wise and happy. Happiness. Justice. Wisdom. Three ideals, states of the mind, world philosophies, and characters that are quite easier said than done... but they can be done.

A jeepney ride is the cheapest mode of transportation for any Taclobanon. In my case, I take a jeepney ride going to school and coming home. I pay P9.00 each time- a very affordable amount in exchange for the philosophical interplays I witness and the time of reprieve between destinations.

Each time I ride a jeepney, I see how happiness, wisdom, and justice interplay in the lives of people- strangers and sometimes familiar faces who at that point are my acquaintances by chance and necessity. There is justice as each passenger pays his or fare without being prompted by the driver; and, the driver stops at the nearest destination advantageous to the passengers. There are times when the driver overcharges the passenger and immediately it is settled by a swift, "Mano, tikang la ako may Coca-Cola," and the former giving back to the latter the extra peso or fifty centavos. There are cases too when the driver returns extra centavos and the passenger without much ado gives them back to him and saying, "Mano, sobra im sukli." Between them comes the other passengers who serve as carriers of the extra or lacking change and at the same time mediators of justice who either side with the driver or the concerned passenger without any bias at all and just have fair fare as their guide. The driver exercises wisdom in deciding whether to take passenger in or not and the same with the passenger whether to take the offered ride or not. When a passenger says, "Mano, may St. Paul's ako," the driver would say "Maliko ngadto LNU,"; right there on the passenger decides with wisdom whether to take or not the jeepney ride. There is happiness because everyone is in a state of suspension from all their points of departure and destination. Nobody is disallowed to take the ride because of civil status, sexual orientation, color, economic status, body mass, fashion taste or whatever superficial standards. Nobody is given preference in terms of seat space; everyone is expected to pay the amount equitable to the space occupied. In fact there are even cases when the driver exercises pro bono when someone does not have enough fare or when someone gets off because he left something- all these decisions made in quick seconds. The driver ensures the happiness of the passengers by barring those who might wreck it such as drunk and unruly prospective passengers by simply saying, "Pasensya mano."

With the perfect balance achieved, the jeepney is filled with contented quiet and the humming sound of silent individual thoughts. The sharers of the space treat each other with equal respect.  The destinations are reached without hassle. No angry passengers who are late for work or school because the driver has to stop for gasoline. No disgruntled passengers because of rowdy neighbors. It is almost bliss.

=========== REVISED VERSION =================================

Jeepney Everyday

I take a jeepney ride in going to work and coming home; and, I pay P9.00 each time. I take a jeepney ride when I go to parties or gathering with friends, meetings with colleagues, and utility companies to settle the bills; and, I pay at least P7.50. A jeepney ride may be the cheapest mode of transportation for any Taclobanon but it houses treasures of philosophical interplays and reprieves between destinations shared amongst strangers and sometimes familiar faces who at the point of convergence inside a jeepney are acquaintances by chance and necessity.

Each passenger pays his or fare without being prompted by the driver; and, the driver stops at the nearest destination advantageous to the passengers. There are times when the driver overcharges the passenger and immediately it is settled by a swift, "Mano, tikang la ako may Coca-Cola," and the former giving back to the latter the extra peso or fifty centavos. There are cases too when the driver returns extra centavos or a peso and the passenger without much ado gives them back to him and saying, "Mano, sobra im sukli." Between them come the other passengers who serve as carriers of the extra or lacking change and at the same time mediators; they side either with the driver or the concerned passenger without any bias at all and just have fair fare as their guide.

Nobody is disallowed to take the ride because of civil status, sexual orientation, color, economic status, body mass, fashion taste or whatever superficial standards. Nobody is given preference in terms of seat space; everyone is expected to pay the amount equitable to the space occupied. In fact there are even cases when the driver exercises pro bono when someone does not have enough fare or when someone gets off because he left something- all these decisions made in quick seconds. There are instances when the driver keeps on taking in more passengers in order to reach the quota seating capacity even when there is no space anymore but this is immediately rectified by simply saying, “Mano, puno na.” When there are passengers who knock on the roof to signal that they want to get off even if the next stop is a just a few meters away, the driver would say, “Unhan la kay bawal didi.”

The driver exercises expert discernment whether to take passenger in or not and the same with the passenger too as to whether to take the offered ride or not. When a passenger says, "Mano, may St. Paul's ako," the driver would say "Maliko ngadto LNU," and right there on the passenger decides whether to take or not the jeepney ride. Even when the driver fails to refuel before he started his route resulting to a stop or two at gasoline stations passengers do not complain; and, when a passenger wears a strong perfume that causes nasal congestion the other passengers do not breathe a word of irritation at all.

Inside the jeepney, everyone looks at each other without seeing each other. The jeepney is filled with silent individual thoughts. The thoughts are either at rest or occupied by the minute details of daily routines, fantasies, and even dreams of life ahead. In a jeepney, a working woman with her children hurrying for school and work is in equal state of suspension from all her points of departure and destination as much as a man who is going home from his night job as a security officer. There is that shared lull of peace where everything about life seems to stand still. The driver ensures that this is sustained by barring those who might wreck it such as a drunk or unruly prospective passenger by simply saying, "Pasensya mano."