When I was about five years old, my father who was a mountaineer brought me and my mother to Patag. I cannot remember everything but from what I could recall, there was a family there who lived in a hut. In front of their hut was a huge lump of soil that, to a kid’s eyes, seemed like a mountain. I remember I pretended it was indeed a mountain and acted like as if I was hiking it every time I walked on it. My father brought us there and my mom brought with us my old toys and clothes. By morning, I saw one of the kids playing with one of my old toys, and I saw another kid wearing my old shirt that had blue and red and orange balloons on it. Being a kid, I laughed and told the kid those are mine. I told my mother the kids were using my stuff. She asked me why I had to tell them it was mine. I didn’t think there was anything wrong. When I got older, I would go back to that memory and wish that we gave more than just my old stuff.  

When I was 17, me and my college best friends Tanya and Bea would walk to school from wherever we had lunch and we’d normally pass by mendicants. Sometimes it’s that old woman along La Salle Avenue that would tell students who don’t give her any coin that she wishes they won’t pass their exams, sometimes it’s a child who look like he has not eaten for hours and nor taken a bath for days. We’d have about P100-P150 a day, we were a group of 17 year olds and we were very fond of eating our stress out. Most of the time, we’d buy bread or biscuits, anything they could eat and whatever our meager baon would allow us to. I remember thinking that I’ll work hard in life so I could help more. I remember being so restless because being young and idealistic, I always felt like one’s life is useless if it wouldn’t be spent in changing the world. And I always knew that if there is one thing that’s really wrong with the world, it’s the huge disparity between the rich and the poor. It bothered me, it made me toss and turn on my bed at night. I was always thinking “what else can we do, what else can we do?”

When I was about 23, I went to a young priest because I remember this conversation we had and many of his ideals seemed align with mine. I thought we can do something together. Around the same year, we tried to put up this organization that was geared towards helping the poor. That organization is still alive but dormant because I am based abroad and the friends I co-founded that organization with do not have the time to do the legwork. But we did help one family already and we intend not to stop there.

Now I am 25, a few days ago I chance upon a homeless old man. He was Middle Eastern, maybe a Pakistani or Afghan, but I am pretty sure he is not a local of this country where I work, he couldn’t speak English. He had bags of plastic and they all contained food that passersby gave him. When I passed by him he smiled at me and I had to stop and approach him, he said nothing but he made a gesture with his hand, asking for food. When I realized he speaks no English, I bought him two siopaos from a Pinoy who was selling them discreetly. I gave the man the siopaos, his smile got bigger, and his eyes twinkled with gratitude. I said goodbye to him. And he nodded at me, smiling still. Before I took a turn towards my building I looked back at the old man and saw him shift the plastic bags containing food from one hand to another, he looked like he was counting the contents. I figured he is trying to see how many meals he would have.

That encounter reminded me of what I have promised myself I will someday do. That encounter was perhaps, heaven’s way of nudging me and saying, “Wake up, you’ve work to do.”/WDJ