> Wanderful
I was born to wander.
I am that kid in the Jollibee ad who got lost in Divisoria and brought too much worries to his parents. I was not that smart (and considerate) to think of staying in a recognizable place until they found me. I went on my own instead. After four hours, I saw my parents talking to many people, with my mom in deep tears. I was clueless when my parents hugged me that hard like I’ve been lost for million years.
In our neighborhood, I became instant member of every household. I ate in other’s plate during dinner, took a bath with other’s soap, and sometimes wore my friend’s undies. I lead a team in conquering the nearest bayabasan to our school, in finding the secret hideout of upperclassmen, and in building our own camp where nobody can possibly find us. My sandals then can only reach the nearest river and mountains, yet my heart wandered as far as the farthest desert, valleys, and oceans.
I gained bruises, insects’ bite, and my mom’s punishment along the way but I’m unstoppable. I opt to roam more.
In high school, I learned the art of writing a slum book. I knew very well that “love is like a rosary” and “crush is paghanga”, but I felt uneasy to my best friend’s entry: “home is where the heart is.” We often times argued, she being a homebody. I often insisted my urge to go for places, to reach the unreachable (stars), and to make lakwatsa after our classes.
Perhaps intrigued by my unusual spirit, she once asked me: “Do you have a happy family?” I got used to this so like a question in job interviews, I have a ready-made answer. “Yes, I did. They are my life, but I need to wander to fulfill my spirit, my innermost desire.”
Imagine my excitement when my parents decided to enroll me in one of Manila-based university to pursue college. Three hundred kilometers away from home is just a nine-hour trip via passenger bus yet I felt complete isolation. I sensed freedom.
College days were my training ground. Manila in itself is the desert and oceans I dreamed to wander: the setting is vulgar yet mysterious, clear yet dangerous. I lived my day spiced with bright lights, high-rise buildings, heavy traffic, street beggars, kotong cops, pick up girls, underemployed yuppies, public smoking, and rallies everywhere. My senses were filled with real stories and experiences of people. I gained more than bruises and insect’s bites, enemies and friends, punishments and rewards.
I learned life from different perspectives and felt the urgency to offer a helping hand. Ironically, modern-day solutions involve money or anything with value. I surrendered to connect with people, I being broke and helpless.
I then remembered a story my mom told about my first steps. I was very eager then to reach chairs after chairs, that I could already walk when I turned eight-month old. My favorite place was the stairs and the exit door, the reason why my dad hired a yaya. I cried when yaya hold and tried to carry me. I was in full energy when left on my own. At that age, I already felt the urgency to roam and reach for people only my weak legs disallowed.
I realized that in one’s life countless steps would be taken. One of these steps may lead to a pit of failure, but it will also require few more steps to move on and reach what the heart desires.
In the meantime, I am still living my life, ready to roam and wander. My empty pocket can only reach as far as the minimum jeepney fare allowed yet my heart feels the romantic ambience of Paris, the busy breeze of New York, and the eerie silence of the desert.
I am unstoppable still. I begin to enjoy my journey.
[One of my attempts to fictionalize my fictitious self.]
