Andrew Domingo
I thought it was just a usual night walking back home from a tiring day at school. While climbing up the stairs in the overpass near our village, I was astounded by a pile of 25-centavo coins in a carton left on the cemented floor. I found it remarkable that even these cents were rejected.
It made me pause for a moment. We often overlook coins like these and leave them behind. We dismiss them as being too small an amount even to keep. But that night, upon seeing them abandoned on the cold cement, I wondered how many other things in life we reject just as easily. How many people, opportunities, or moments do we ignore simply because they seem insignificant?
I lived in Antipolo, Rizal, and studied at the University of Santo Tomas (UST) in Manila. I didn’t live in a dormitory near the campus, so it was a commuter’s life for me. My travel time from our house to UST usually took about an hour. It was the same traveling back home.
The public transportation in our country is filled with problems and woes. However, amid the difficulties of commuting, many experiences and unexpected scenes still surprise the accustomed commuter. One passenger might complain in the jeepney because his change was insufficient or not given. Sometimes, I even needed to say that I was a student to get the discount, even though I was wearing my uniform.
While inside the train, my thoughts would sometimes be interrupted by a faint (but most of the time strong) smell of fart. I would slightly turn my head and look at the people around me, and witness the faces that reflected how someone just farted, and it was not a pleasant smell.
Filipinos have a talent for maximizing space, not just in the jeepneys but also in the tricycles. Those unaware of the tricycle culture in the Legarda-UST route will be surprised that the tricycles could accommodate a maximum of seven passengers, including the driver, during the peak hours. Even though it was uncomfortable to be squeezed beside other students, it had its advantages. It was also much cheaper this way. When there were only a few passengers for the day, the tricycle drivers would take in only three passengers for P20 each. But the fare would be halved when the tricycle was filled to its maximum. Ten pesos was considerable savings in return for a brief discomfort.Aside from the rides, bizarre moments also came from the walks. One of my favorite places to walk through was the overpasses. In my travels to and from my school, I would walk through three overpasses. What I found interesting in the overpasses were the people who stayed under their cover. Beggars. In my everyday walk through those three overpasses, I have memorized their faces. On some rare days, their group would have a new addition. As my daily routine was to commute, theirs was to beg for money.
It was difficult for me to pass by these beggars. The elderly. The sight of them asking for money broke my heart. It was part of my routine to pass through them, but there was not a single time when I felt no sense of guilt for being unable to somehow alleviate their suffering and plight. I could not always give them spare change because I needed it for my expenses. I could only pass by them with a heavy heart.
When you look at them straight in the eyes, what do you see? I usually see injustice, remorse, and sadness in their gaze. Strangely, there were times when their gaze made me reflect on my person. Sometimes I felt like their eyes were asking me, “What are you doing with your life?” Their eyes reminded me of my indulgence in trivialities and mediocrity.What am I doing with my life? Perhaps it is good to ask ourselves this question from time to time.
Looking back, I realize that those small, quiet encounters: the rejected coins, the tired commuters, and the beggars in the overpasses, were all reminders that life is full of people and things we reject or ignore without realizing how connected we all are. The cents may be small and the faces of the poor easy to overlook, but each has value. Each carries a hidden weight.
In the Steven Spielberg film, “Schindler’s List,” Itzhak Stern gave Oskar Schindler a ring with an inscription from the Hebrew Talmud as gratitude for the Jews he had helped save from death. The inscription says, “Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire.”
We cannot save everyone, but we can always start by saving ourselves. And perhaps, along the way, we learn to notice the overlooked; the small coins, the weary faces under the overpass, and the questions in a stranger’s eyes.
May we all live meaningful lives, remembering that nothing and no one should ever be too small to matter.
