Letter no. 28: Of Raindrops and Humanity

20080831_gustav_rain_33It was 6:00 o’clock. Just another typical rainy afternoon. I stopped by a loading zone shed waiting for the rain to cease. We were about five people stuck on that small stinky shed: a macho-bouncer-looking guy, a street child on his seventh, a seemingly-shy type Collegiala and a nun tightly holding a bible. As the rain never seemed to stop, I began to see humanity on its different angle.

Dear Michael,

It’s one of the memorable days in my life when I happened to witness how humanity was transformed by just a heavy rainpour. There I was, rushing against the band of people on a six o’clock. The rain had been observed occurring frequently those days and yet I hadn’t had a chance to bring at least a coat. I would usually go in reverse with people coming home as I work in a night shift. I tried to cover my head with my leather bag and started running up the footbridge crossing to the other side of the street. I almost got soaked so I stopped by a loading zone shed waiting for the rain to cease the moment I landed.

I tried to drain myself a little bit by a small towel but it wouldn’t do anything. I just stared across the street and watched the rain as it bounced the asphalt. It got heavier by time so I just paused, put my earphones on and stood still.

We were about five people stuck on that small stinky shed: a macho-bouncer-looking guy, a street child on his seventh, a seemingly-shy type colegiala, a nun tightly holding a bible and me soaking wet.

The situation bored me so I started to analyze their every move. I stared unobviously to the guy on my right side. He looked so manly in his broad shoulders and bragging muscles. He was wearing a fitted white tank top and maong pants that made him look like a club bouncer. His eyes were like tiger watching closely at everyraindrops. He was oozing hot but a little stubborn I presumed. I thought that he might probably be working on a bar, a security on a bank maybe. A policeman? Possible. He could also be a soldier apprentice, a dancer, or a strereo bouncer. Yeah. Could be. I guessed he’s on his early 30’s. He yawned. Oh wait. There were wrinkles. Late thirties. Slowly then, he slided his right hand in his pocket. I thought he was gonna get a gun or something but to my surprise, it wasn’t a gun but lo! a rounded-shaped mirror slash face powder. He then began to look at himself at the mirror, applied some powder on his cheeks, he tantalized for a second and pouted his lips to red and before I knew it, the child beside me burst “Ay Bakla!” (Oh he’s gay), like literally, it wasn’t obvious. Surprisingly, he was.

And so my attention was caught by this little kid probably around 7 years old. He looked so pale but he was so energetic. I thought to myself, “where is this kid getting his energy?” He looked like a typical kid but he was thin, his eyes were red, and he looked like he hasn’t eaten for days. He was wearing a knitted wide shirt, a little bit greasy and without anything underneath. Just as when I learned that he’s probably just a street child dying for some attention, after a while, I noticed that he was acting a little weird. He started talking non sense things. He got something out of his shirt and I noticed 2 plastics of rugby and a stick of cigar. I got shocked that at his age, he already knew how depressing a life without moral could mean. Poor kid. And in a snap of seconds, he flew across the other side of the street under the heavy rain, started barking for passengers and the rest was burried to my mind.

On my left was a nun holding a bible. She’s probably on her 40’s. She was wearing an eyeglasses and holding silver purse on the other hand. She seemed like a sweet mother, or sister for that matter. She would smile at times. She had a very angelic features. Her eyes were infinite, like a mother who’s afraid to lose a child. She would frown at times but would smile steady afterwards. She looked at her wristwatch and sighed. But not so long ago when the rain never seemed to stop, her mood started to change. She began talking shits. And to my shock, she said “Lintek na ulan yan, nalate na tuloy ako sa service ko” (How shit this rain is, I’m already late for my service). Those were the last words I can remember. I couldn’t imagine how she managed to talk trashes without a trace on her angelic holy being.

And then there was this seemingly-shy Colegiala not so distant on my left. The girl looked “probinsyana”. She was holding pile of folders on her right arm, wearing a neat marine blouse paired by below-the-knee underdress. I wouldn’t mention the school. So popular. To my estimate, she’s the outcast one, the one you see in the library during happy hours, the type of girl who’s silent but keeping a lot of answers within. She was tall. Taller than me. Suddenly, the rain stopped. I thought the rain had nothing to do with this woman. This lady walked down the sidewalk out of the shed. There was a gust of wind that blew his hair dry. And that same wind struck underneath pushing her dress upside down and exposing no underwear. Good Lord! The girl turned out to be bitchier than I could ever imagined.

This bunch of people thought me that we should never give judgement to any sort of strangers until we further know them by heart. Who would have known that a sudden rainpour would introduce me to the deeper sense of humanity. We live by these people. We define humanity. Our actions define humanity at large, no matter what our roles are, we comprise its definition. The kid must have been at home studying his lessons, the man could have been married to a lady. The nun could have been praticing what she preaches and the student could have been home by that time. It’s simply saying that humanity is composed of societal roles, and just like any other roles, we sometimes can justify it, and we sometimes fail to. Like I could have been at the office by then. πŸ™‚

Have a fulfilling role everyone!



Posted on June 21, 2013, in LETTERS 25-32, LIFE LETTERS and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. This is a life-lesson written in such an enchanting story-like form. Reader’s delight.

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