The Wrong Pill

They’ve invaded the streets of Divisoria, Recto, Quiapo, Espaňa, Taft, P. Faura, Paco, and other busy, traffic-jammed areas in Metro Manila.

Tousled hairs, bulging eyes, filthy faces and runny noses accentuate their dreadful look. Their bodies are greasy, sometimes with burns, cloth with outsized tattered outfits and stink like dumpsite. Some are half naked and barefooted, exposing prominent ribs, protruding bellies and callous feet. The more awful they guise the more coins they get.

They would enter PUJs carrying tons of nerves and dead egos and would ask for mercy in order to relieve themselves from hunger. Most are solos (who have already outgrown coyness), some in tandems (who would morally support each other) and others in flocks (oftentimes hanging by the stribu and are always cursed by drivers). Superb acting is needed to look more convincing in their posed misery.

These beggars, embellished with tambourines and drums during Christmas season, hand out ordinary small white envelopes or at times the airmail. These papers, after being touched time and again by hundreds of hands, would get messier and shabbier as days pass.

Each time I’d be given an envelope I avoid touching it for I don’t know how many times it fell off the PUJ’s floor or in ground, how many dirty hands touched it and how many types of microorganism populated the almost dilapidated paper.

These envelopes show poor hand writings which reads as:

Ate, Kuya
Pahingi po ng barya o buo.
Pang kain lang po.
Maraming salamat po.

Sometimes the notes would ask for pamasko or pambaon. But more than this, it’s quite ironic for a beggar to be able to buy envelopes albeit having nothing to eat. At the back of my mind, Wala na ngang makain pero nakakabili pa ng sobre; dati lata lang ngayon sobre na.

Some time ago, as the PUJ passes Recto while I’m taking a nap, out of surprise I jolted back because a boy is polishing my shoes and he’s scratching my pants for payment. I didn’t give any amount not because I’m too selfish or indifferent but because the rags used were greasy and that instead of shining my shoes it even made it rubbish. Giving them money is tantamount to giving them the wrong pill for their illness, I thought.

On one occasion, the PUJ I ride stops at Paco corner Quirino Ave. where children ambushed us with their envelopes. As they leave, the driver told us that these children are being forced by their jobless parents to do begging. They are one big homeless family. The driver was amazed for despite residing in the streets the couple has produced such plethora of kids and that the couple is just “pasarap sa buhay” while their broods are working to feed their mouths.

In one of those rides, out of curiosity I asked a child where are his parents, why is he not in school and why is he doing that. He didn’t bother responding to my questions. Hurriedly, he collected his envelopes and leaves the PUJ together with his offended ego.

Another story is those men claiming they volunteer for a certain Christian foundation for the poor and out of school youth. They would give solicitation letters having a letterhead devoid of concrete address and an out of service contact number. No e-mail address. No website of the foundation. Not even a single proof of credibility. Take note, in the letter is a list of their preferred amounts. Who they think they are fooling?

One time, in a PUJ heading to P. Faura, a Badjao boy is singing while thumping his improvised drums. Maybe he’s really a Badjao for I can’t understand his lyrics. Just like others, he gave us envelopes but to my biggest surprise the supposed hand writings are now printed. I can’t imagine where did he get the stamp to imprint those words?

Likewise, on my way to Intramuros, a Badjao woman asks for money over the windows of PUJs that stopped before the traffic lights. She’s breastfeeding her child, thus, exposing part of her breast. What a heartbreaking sight of a mother and child struggling to survive from their horrifying fate. What kind of future awaits the child?

What happened to these indigenous people and their ancestral domains? Why did they leave their natural world in exchange of coins in the noisy and polluted streets of metropolis? Where’s the fang of IPRA that’s supposed to be protecting their rights as minorities?

Alarmingly, some beggars turn to violence. Once, my friends and I were on a PUJ heading Espaňa when a 5-7 year-old boy asked for coins. Our girl friend already gave but the boy insisted for more but when she politely refused he began scratching her arms until she almost cry out of pain and fear. The boy left while cursing us when scolded for his action. I’ve heard several stories where children would badmouth, prod, poke, and spit on commuters and drivers who would get angry on them.

With that, what else could we expect as these children with anti-social behaviors, turn 18? Sooner or later, if not rehabilitated, they’ll be behind bars for as they mature they carry with them tendencies to become criminals. Chances are, something more terrible may happen to them as they play patintero with death when they jump off from one PUJ to another.

Giving of food instead of money must be practiced for most of these beggars are part of mafias. Some would just buy drugs, solvents, alcohols and cigars out of what we give. As we continue to give coins the longer they would stay in beggary. Remember that we must not give men fish; instead we must equip them the knowledge of fishing.

Why beg inside PUJs (crowded with also poor commuters) when one can sell candies, mineral water, sampaguita, rugs, cigars, nuts and the like? Why beg when one can be a newspaper or gasoline boy, car washer, parking attendant, barker, and other decent jobs? Poverty shouldn’t be used as an excuse to resort into begging.

I am not writing this piece to mock the beggar’s looks, to belittle their lives or to demoralize their situations, but to condemn the government for not taking enough action on this perennial yet always ignored issue.

May our politicians to do something about mendicancy for this issue isn’t just about poverty and vagrancy. It’s more about child labor, exploitation, human trafficking, unemployment, crimes, accidents, illiteracy, health problems and overpopulation. It’s all about neglected and unattained basic human rights.

We can never travel in P-Noy’s purported matuwid na daan so long as the actual roads are being obstructed by the rising culture of mendicancy.