Faces June 23, 2007
Posted by Mayee in : Literature , trackbackThey say we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. But I think books are just what that saying’s for. People, are a different matter.
On average, the normal person sees about a hundred faces each day. To say that they restrain themselves from judging is a complete lie. I don’t deny this, and I am very glad for my ability to sort of peer into the lives of complete strangers through their faces.
Yesterday I was on the jeepney to Sucat Highway, and as the jeep slowed down by a nearby Mercury Drugstore, a small boy was helping his father (I’m guessing by the looks of it) up the jeep I was in. His father was a very thin man with red blotches all over his body (or the visible parts of it at least). His eyes were red, teary, and bloodshot. His movements were restricted. It was evident that they were poor. They were wearing nothing but shirts that were once white, but were yellow and worn now with lots of holes, pambahay shorts, and shabby slippers. The man handed the small plastic bag he was holding to his son, who took it with great care. The plastic bag, as I could now see, was full of boxes of medicine. I could even read “Solmux” on one of the boxes. Then the man reached, with great pain from what I could see, into his pockets to get some change for the jeepney fare. At first he had five 1-peso coins in his hand. It wasn’t enough, jeepney fare is 7 pesos. He turned out both his pockets, and he had 3 more pesos. He paid the fare, and was left with a single peso. The sight almost tore my heart out. I tried to look away, but I couldn’t help looking at his face. His forehead was worry and pain-ridden, I could tell from the way his eyebrows were clenched. He had a son, which meant that he was buying medicine with money he could be using to feed his family. It was clear that the effects of him being sick was a lot harder to this man than the sickness itself. He took the T-shirt which his son had been holding, and tied it around his head, as if to form a make-shift turban/mask, to protect himself from the pollution of the main road. Then he put his arm around the shoulders of his young son.
His son, on the other hand, had a different aura about him. His facial expression was that of an older person thinking about a lot of things, rather than the expression of young kid who should be carefree and innocent. Seeing this further broke my heart. He had probably been the main support of his father for a long time, and along with that came the responsibility of doing his father’s other duties - providing food perhaps, or other such deeds. If he didn’t, his family would probably starve to death. When they finally yelled for the driver to stop, it took the man a very long and painful time to get off. His son was trying to support the man as best he could, but his small frame could only do so much.
Then I was left there on the jeepney, watching them as long as I could before the jeep went far enough to get them out of sight. They crossed the road, and that was that. Norah Jones was still playing on my mp3 player, suiting the mood. I wished I could have done something, but what? I am helpless myself. And that frustrated me. It frustrated me even more when I see people on the MRT with faces as smug as can be. Nobody should be that smug when others don’t have the luxury of even just putting that expression on their face, even if they don’t really mean it.
Comments»
I think you’re right.. I think faces really can tell something about a person and that it’s really not bad to judge by appearance.. cuz sometimes you can really tell.
diba? :D hi kuya ry.
Hi. saw your site through eg’s.. ex links?
aw. heart-wrenching. :’-(