JEEP MEMORIES

Certainly, anyone who grew up in the Philippines has distinct memories of riding jeepneys. I have two, which happened when I was still in grade school — one was with my sister, the other with my father and uncle.

My eldest sister who was 13 years my senior used to drag me along to Divisoria and Quiapo when bargain-hunting for shoes. Whether she intended to buy a pair or not, the salespeople weren’t spared the agony of bringing out several boxes of shoes for her to try on. I was the one who would get embarrassed for her, but learned soon enough to just bring a comic or pocket book to cover my face with, while she tested these people’s endurance.

One afternoon, after handing me my usual wage — a half a dozen mini hopia* — as her reluctant shopping companion, we boarded a jeepney to take us home. It was empty, for the evening rush was still two hours away. She took the seat right by the steps while I sat on the opposite side but more towards the middle.

The driver was waiting for the light to turn green, my sister was in some deep thought and I was about to take a bite out of my first piece of hopia, when a teenager nonchalantly walked by and snatched my sister’s brand new Bulova watch. She turned pale and I froze in mid-bite. Before we recovered from our shock, the snatcher had disappeared among the throng of pedestrians. Although neither one of us said anything else until we got home, but there was one word that remained prominent in my mind — karma.

On another occasion one Saturday morning on our way to my father’s office (he used to take me along on Saturdays when he worked only half a day), my uncle got on the same jeepney my father and I were on. He chose to sit directly in front of us — within arm’s reach of the driver.

A couple of blocks into our stop, both my father and uncle — as if engaged in a duel — vigorously insisted to pay for each other’s fare. As both these grown men shoved their money towards the direction of the driver who turned his head to check out the commotion, one of them accidentally poked him in the eye. When he winced and jerked his head back in pain, he momentarily lost control of the jeepney and slammed it onto another ahead of us.

Luckily, he wasn’t going that fast so no one suffered any harm, but the driver was so enraged he yelled for all of us to get off his jeepney — and fast.

It must be true what experts say; that our psychological make-up basically stems from childhood. Perhaps, this explains why, later on in life, I’ve become quite adept in negotiating my way out of accompanying any female on a shopping trip. Moreover, I’ve also become somewhat of a risk taker; that is, I’d rather be thought of as a cheapskate than insist on paying for another’s fare while aboard a jeepney.


(*Hopia is a pastry of Chinese origin similar to moon cakes filled with sweet bean paste, sometimes flavored)

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