I met a fine singer in the most unlikely place to meet a
performer – a deserted street.
The time was forty five past eleven in the morning in
Iligan City, outside the gate of the United Nations office. As I wait in the
car for my colleague to return from picking up maps that I would need, I saw a
boy wearing sando standing at the other side of the road obviously trying to
peek inside the car. He is skinny and small, with a rather feminine posture. He
looked towards the car and unsure of his steps, walked slowly. Worried, I rolled the window and said hi. Voice
shaking, he said in Bisaya: I sing well.
Let me sing to you.
Having been in Lanao del Norte for few months, it is hard
to understand a rattled boy speaking in Bisaya. With difficulty, I asked for
his name and I understood as he explained that he would sing to me in exchange
for anything to eat. He told his name is Jamil, fifteen years old, sophomore,
and an honor student. He and his family lives in Ubaldo Laya, a barangay near
the Iligan River I remember to be covered by my organization’s project. He skipped class that day as he felt the
obligation to find food because his family had not eaten for two days already.
Puzzled, I asked him why he has to sing and not directly
beg since it is easier. I felt that I have offended him by asking that but instead,
Jamil taught me the most important thing about dignity. I maybe hungry and desperate, but I know how to sing. It’s God’s gift
to me and I will use it to find my needs. I sing well and I can assure you of
that. I need your help, and I have my song in exchange.
How can this hungry child teach the most difficult lesson
on dignity?
So I asked what he will sing to me. And true to his
promise, he sang beautifully a difficult Regine Velasquez song. Moved by mixed admiration
and uneasiness, I politely asked Jamil to stop singing. I cracked a joke saying
sorry that I do not have anything to give him in return to his performance. Yet
the brightness in his eyes did not fade. He replied that it was still okay
because I lent my ears. Laughing, I grabbed Jamil’s hand and congratulated him for
such a wonderful rendition. Regine would
be jealous if she hears you. Slipping something on his palm, I told him: This is not much but you can tell your
mother you have something for lunch today. You take care, sister. God bless
you.
My work requires me to meet people like Jamil everyday –
people who lost their hopes, homes, livestock, livelihoods, and loved ones
because of disasters and conflicts. Oftentimes, I have to ride long hours in
motorcycle, cross streams and rivers, and walk on paddies and makeshift bridges
in order to reach their communities. And sometimes, falling off a motorcycle in
a steep hill and running away from free range pigs is unavoidable. Looking back
to the life I used to have in Manila working for a financial company, I
realized that the tradeoff is a good deal. As a humanitarian worker, my time is
not mine and home is anywhere I am assigned to. Keeping a relationship is
difficult too since I cannot be in one place for a very long time. But the deal
comes with a package I can never compare to anything – the smile of people’s
faces, their stories, their landscapes, and their hope. And luckily, I have the
best person to stick with me through and through.
Why do I write this today? I write to invite others to
look within their own hearts. What makes you deeply glad? What amazes you with
joy and gratitude? How do you measure the most important things?
As for me, I found the answers in that empty street in
Iligan. Jamil made me realize that doing that which I am best at is the only
way I can be truly happy. That it is worthwhile to offer my time for others.
That though I know my actions are not enough to change the society, one
significant struggle is enough to challenge the absurd. And that the
inspiration we long can come from a single effort to roll the window.
George Cardinal Pell puts it this way: “Don’t spend your
life sitting on the fence, keeping your options open, because only commitments
bring fulfillment. Happiness comes from meeting our obligations, so we can rise
to meet the harder challenges. One
mission is better than a thousand options.”
The world needs people who will give their time
and energy to fight the struggle against injustice, oppression, half-truths,
and hunger so that people like Jamil could sing their tune without the fear of
hunger and indifference. In our today’s pluralistic society, do these things
still bother you deep within? Still undecided what course you really like?
Still undecided which calling to take? May God discomfort you even more.
