The best thing that I can do

I start my daily routine at 5:00 AM when most of the people are still sound asleep. I would walk around five and a half kilometers to reach Umapad Dumpsite. Not even a typhoon could stop me from doing this daily regimen. After all, I have seven young mouths to feed. I'd rather get wet than hear the hungry sounding stomachs of my three girls and four boys. 

All of my children are schooling. I feel that education is the only escape I can provide them against this hell that we are right now. When I was their age, I did not mind my studies. I saw no sense in scrambling numbers trying to figure out products and quotients when at the end of the day I and my brothers would still go the plantation to harvest pineapples. 

I was born in Mindanao, specifically in Manolo Fortich, Bukidnon. As glamorous as it sounds, the place is actually of no single glitter. Most people live on a one-day-one-eat scheme. Kids spent their days not in school but in large pineapple and banana plantations doing hard labor to earn a few centavos. We do not have a functioning hospital in our community. It was like, when you suffer an illness, the best that you can have is to implore the heaven that you get healed. 

I lived in Manolo Fortich, the entirety of my teenage life. I think I have harvested more than a hundred thousand pieces of pineapples that now I can't even think of smelling one. Maybe it's true that when you have too much of something, you will start to dislike it. 

When I turned 23, I decided to seek better opportunities in Cebu. I packed up my stuff, which translates to two shirts, one puldoroy, and a dog tag that my grandfather gave me. He said that it was a gift from an American friend during the second world war. It was a treasure that he wanted me to keep and give to the next generation of our kin. It's the only treasure I have with me up to now. Well, at least, I am not that poor enough not to own even a single treasure. 

The first time I arrived in Cebu, I marveled at its modern look. It was so chic to a probinsyano like me. I've never seen such a vast crowd gathered in one place. It was all good until the harsh reality of life slapped me. I tried looking for work, but everywhere I go, they'd ask me for a high school diploma. I don't have one. The truth is when I was in Mindanao, I never cared for my education. After all, why would you need to know how to divide large numbers when you are only earning a few centavos for a hard day in the plantation? 

I started sipping my coffee and ate two pieces of pandesal. The shanty which the eight of us lived was still shrouded in darkness. We do not have electricity. We couldn't afford such a luxury. My children are fast asleep except for Lando, who must go to school early as he is a working student. 

After I was done eating, I rolled two empty sacks, got my kalakay, and started heading to the dumpsite. You would barely recognize me in my scavenger costume. My entire body is generously clothed. I walked unceremoniously but filled with hope that I might hit a pot of gold in the dumpsite. I mean it. I am tired of this life. I don't care about myself anymore; I can't bear it looking at the suffering faces of my children. 

Two trucks arrived, and the witch hunt for plastic and tin cans started. There were 8 of us who would typically come early in the dumpsite. When we are not scavenging, we are the best of friends. But when we start collecting sellable trash, it's a different story. 

The minutes of sorting trash became an hour, and the hours became a day. Filled with exhaustion, I walked towards the junk shop where I would sell my sacks of plastic and metal scraps. That day, I did not hit the pot of gold I was expecting, but I was fortunate enough to have 49 pesos in my pocket. Half a kilo of rice would be 23 pesos, two packs of noodles at 16 pesos. I still have 10 pesos that I saved to give as baon of my kids for the next day. 

Just a few blocks to the slum area where I lived, I've seen many people gathering. The smoke is still rising mightily to the sky. There was a fire, and it was a humungous and devastating one. I ran as fast as I could. 

"My kids! Help me! I need to find my kids." I shouted in despair as I struggle to navigate through the crowd that has gathered. 

There was nothing left. It was like a vast football field, but only that everywhere you look was filled with ashes and debris. I started crying. I was baffled, but then a familiar voice came to my ears. 

"Pa, naa sila tanan sa Gym. Tana adto ta." It was my son Lando who, after hearing the news from his friends, rushed to aid his younger brothers and sisters. 

It was the best feeling that I have had in my life. Knowing that my kids are safe filled my heart with joy. Maybe, I did not hit the pot of gold in the dumpsite, but still, I was blessed for my family is safe. It was at that moment that I realized that it is not money that can bring us genuine happiness. It is seeing the people we love safe and sound. Material things may provide us comfort, but you can never put a price tag on true happiness. 

I am Ondo, a scavenger, a fire victim, a widower. I don't know what's left of the thinning pages of my life, but as long as I live, I will forget all these to focus on the one best thing that I could do… being a father. 

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Snappy, the dog who saved my life

Once in a while, we are tested by life itself. If we triumph and succeed, we become better. But if we let the bitterness of the moment drag us down, we will be blinded by hatred… by feelings far worse than death.

“Jim, let me go with you. I wanna join your practice game.”

“Sure… we need a watery boy”

“Well, if you want someone as good as Kobe Bryant as your water boy, then I’m in.”

“Hahaha… You wish”

When people say ball is life, they usually are not that serious about it. But for our family, ball really is life. My father is a retired professional player who once represented the country in the Olympics. My mother is a courtside reporter during her younger days. Now, my father is a coach and my mother is a sports columnist. Their sons, Jim and I, are part of our respective school’s varsity team. Yes, we really love the game, but sometimes what you love can break your heart.

“Kevin, you hurry! Your brother was injured. He has been rushed to the hospital.”

These were the words of my father when he called to inform me about the demise that got my brother Jim. It has been three years since that awful afternoon. When I get to see the crutches that have become part of my brother’s daily living, I cannot stop but curse life for being too bad for him. I myself have stopped playing basketball despite my parents’ disapproval. I hate the game more than ever. I don’t want to let my brother see me inside the court because I don’t want to add more to his sufferings.

When I see my brother pretend that everything is okay, I feel so much disgust. I don’t know but I guess, more than him, it was me who blames the game for what he is right now.

“Kevin, your coach called that you can still catch up for the next season. He said that you are very much welcome to return to the team.”

“Mom, let’s not talk about this again. You know my decision…”

“Well… Just reconsider. By the way, check your room. I have a surprise there for you.”

I was excited when I heard this. I thought mom finally gave me the latest gaming console I was asking. Actually, when I stopped playing basketball, I became addicted to computer games. These games are better as there is no chance that I’ll get injured.

“Wow… a dog!” I exclaimed as I really have been asking my parents for a dog also, but they have been reluctant to give me one.

When I went to see my new pet, my excitement turned into disgust.

“What is this… why are they giving me a crippled dog? Is my brother not enough of a reminder to me of how miserable life can be?” I shouted in disgust.

At first, I did not mind about the crippled dog. The thing looks to me was a failure, a thing that is hopeless. I don’t want to offend my parents, so I just let the dog stay in my custody. The crippled dog would come close to me, trying to get my affection, but my heart and mind have been fixed. It is a useless dog. There even came timed when I would forget to feed the crippled dog for days. But then everything changed one afternoon.

I was at my desk writing a report for school when a golf ball on top of my desk fell and rolled on the floor. The crippled dog ran fast and bit the ball and bumped on my foot. I took the ball and threw it far and the crippled dog brought it back again. This was the start of my affection to the crippled dog. At that moment, I realized that the dog deserves not of condemnation or of pity. A crippled dog does not make it any lesser as a pet. The crippled dog changed me. I realized that if I dwell on the imperfections and forget about everything, it’s not the world that’s failing me, but me failing the world. We live in an imperfect world, and it is with these imperfections that we are able to appreciate more of its beauty.

Now, I and Snappy are close as ever. He is not just my dog, but also my savior. I have now returned to playing basketball and got way closer to my brother. I realized that the world does not end with every failure, with every lost opportunity. In fact, there is always a reason to be excited for tomorrow.

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A Mother's Legacy

People say that age is just a number and that it is utterly irrelevant. While I see this as an indisputable truth, I cannot stop myself from thinking of something special to give to my Elaine. In three days time, she is turning 50. She's an independent woman who seems to have no need for people to look for her. She is special and I cannot fathom how I would have survived in this world without the things she has sacrificed for me.

I reached through my pocket before releasing an audible sigh. Will she love the gift I will be giving her? I was contemplating as I looked at the worn-out boots that I am wearing.

“How many years have you been working as a garbage collector?”

“It’s my twentieth year in this job. I am just happy that I will not die a garbage collector John.”

“Good for you! You are doing something noble man. I salute you for doing this.”

I drank the remaining beer and pondered on the remarks of my new partner. John is a young man and I really envy his dedication. Was I like him when I was young, I may have given my daughter and my mother a comfortable life. After the short stay in the pub, I decided to head home.

Along the alleys of this city, I get to feel the presence of Elaine. She is not a famous celebrity. She is not a renowned person. Few knew her. Few knew her story. It was this few people whom I can vouch will stand proud of the real Elaine de Grass.

It was one fateful night of December 1980. Elaine was on her way to the dorm when a group of four college students forced her to hop into their car. Unable to fight, Elaine submitted herself and was brought to the big blue house on the corner of 32^nd and 33^rd Avenue. She wanted to shout for help but her fear capsized her desire to flee. She was drugged up and was raped. The next morning she was found out lying naked near the central plaza. But rather than being cared as someone in distress and a victim, she was labeled a slut. Her parents died fighting for the justice that Elaine deserves. Sad to say, the money and connection of her captors overwhelmed the truth that lies behind that blue house.

Fifteen years forward, Elaine is a single mother. She struggled to work on three jobs to give her son a good life. In the morning, she would deliver harvests from farms in the southern plains to fresh shops in the city. After all these, she would proceed to her next stop. She’ll need to remain standing for 8 hours as a cashier in one of the stores she delivers vegetables. When the store closes, she will hurriedly go to reach the 5 pm log-in time to the restaurant where she works part time.

The young son she had was never appreciative of Elaine’s effort. He despised her mother for raising him alone. He has been rebellious for he felt that it was Elaine’s fault why he never saw or knew who his father was. He stopped schooling at the age of 14 and went to join a gang. It was typical for him and Elaine to just see each other in prison or police station. Elaine bails him out and he walks away. This is the life he has lived for 10 years until he finally settled with the woman who has changed him. This woman was really amazing but then fate is just a bitter thing. The day she gave birth to a girl, the woman died. Nevertheless, everything that has become of the rebellious boy is owed to this woman. It was this event that made the boy realized how much she has failed his own mother. He reopened his heart to the mother he has never considered to be one.

I can clearly recall how my tears were like never ending as Elaine tells me the truth behind my existence. Elaine, the ever naïve and selfless mother was mumbling as she narrates to me what happened that day. This encounter was exactly 10 years ago but I can still remember how the atmosphere of that day has struck a lightning into the very soul of mine. I was a failure as a son. I failed to treasure the very person who saw my existence as a gift more than a curse. It was that time when I realized that I owe Elaine more than what she has received from me.

Up to now, I still feel the intense sense of guilt and remorse when I see Elaine. I tried my best to make it up with her. Nevertheless, Deep in me lies this haunting of conscience that constantly reminds of how I deprived Elaine the chance to become a mother to a young boy. Being a parent, I know that I could never go beyond what Elaine has done to me. I just don’t know how I can show Elaine the gratitude that is in me. And now, she is turning 50. Alas! 50 years of existence in a world which tried her beyond what she could have taken. 50 years filled with sufferings she did not deserve. I know I have to find something that would make her smile, something that would make her happy. I cannot buy the years back but I can surely do things right now to make this woman know that she is special. 

I came to look at the odds and possibilities. I need to do it now. I have saved enough money for Elaine to start her bakeshop. Every since my younger years, I saw her as a very good baker. She has the flare to make bread delicious beyond taste and smell. I will throw her the best birthday surprise, a bakery of her own. Everything is set. I will be serving my last duty tomorrow as a garbage collector. The resignation which I handed a month ago will take effect and I will be able to get the separation pay which I could add up to finance the bakery.

The streets are filled with spirit of Christmas. The colorful displays of the stores and music somehow consoled my soul. I came to pass a jewelry store and saw something peculiar. There is this necklace which is somehow similar to what Elaine has when she was young. The necklace which I once stole and pawned during my younger years somehow reappeared in front of me. Was this coincidence or a work of fate, I do not know. I have decided to purchase this tomorrow and give it to her. She will surely look gorgeous with this necklace.

My last day at work came and everything went as planned. It was a day of joy and sadness. I am happy to start a new life and I am sad to bid farewell to people who have valued and treated me as a man of dignity. I went to the shop and bought the necklace. On the doorstep of our apartment, I felt something eerie and that feeling exemplified when I found out that nobody is inside. I found a note from my daughter telling that Elaine is hospitalized and that she is accompanying her. I hurriedly grab a cab and went to the hospital. The documents of the bakery and the necklace I wanted to give Elaine are still with me. I am still holding my gifts. I went inside the morgue to see her lifeless body. I was in a state of confusion. I took Elaine to my arms and cried. I once again failed Elaine. I just don’t know. I think it was always meant like this. Maybe, I am really a curse to her and I should have never existed in the first place. It was a long period of grieving and I was just lucky that my daughter was there. She was the one who supported me. If not, I could have not known what to do next.

Two months after Elaine was buried, I am still feeling the pain. I am entering Elaine’s room for the first time after her passing. I was surprised as to how organized it is. Elaine died of cancer. She did not tell any of us but she was aware that she was to die that month. It was devastating. Elaine has remained to her character until the end, an independent woman who tries to do things on her own. I pulled one of the drawers and saw a letter addressed to me. Tears were rolling in my cheeks when I reached under her bed and open a box containing the pair of boots she bought me as Christmas gift. I took the necklace from my pocket and smiled. “Elaine, you will always be the best.” I said to myself. I carefully place the boots back and push the gift box back to where it was.

I just learned that the necklace I was about to give to her is actually the real necklace she once owned. She was actually able to recover it from the pawnshop before and kept it hidden for years. Two days before she died, she sold the necklace to the jewelry store to buy me and my daughter gifts. They are all under her bed… The truth behind Elaine, they all are found under her bed. I just did not mind checking them for I already know enough about this woman… Elaine was the mother I missed to have. Elaine was the mother every child would wish for. Elaine is just extraordinary.

I left the room and went to open the bakery. Now that I have more reasons to be happy, I feel rejuvenated. Everything is set inside so I flipped the sign which reads “Welcome to Elaine’s Bakeshop!”

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The Last Man Standing

Sun rays are striking straight to my skin as I get to walk another mile to reach the demilitarized zone. It has always been like this ever since the great nuclear disaster of 2020. The explosion which was able to wipe out 95% of the human population is still haunting the entire world as mutant animals and high level of radioactivity makes everyday living a nightmare. I was one of the lucky few who have survived the explosion. Working as an underwater scientist, we were having a deep water exploration in the pacific when the accident did occur. I can barely think how chaotic it must have been atop the ocean.

“Beep Beep Beep”, my phone started ringing.

“Hello Lieutenant X775A! You are directed to proceed to the laboratory of biological studies.” a synthesized voice said on my radio.

“What nightmare shall we face this time?” I asked myself.

Ever since we abandoned earth and decided to establish a settlement on the surface of the moon, we have been visiting it to check for signs of human life, but what we have found for the last 10 years are mutant animals possessing mutated characteristics. A fish with feathers swimming in the ocean floor, a dog with x-ray vision, a rat as big as a 3-storey building and a carnivorous tree - these are few of the bizarre things we have found on earth. Out team have scanned most of the places, but we have found not a single human who was able to sustain under such amount of radiation.

“Hey Lieutenant X775A!” lieutenant X346Q greeted, “I have been anticipating your arrival.”

“What’s the fuzz all about?” me asking Lieutenant X346Q.

“We are tracing some abnormal microbial activity near the pacific ocean.” my lady partner uttered.

“What now?” I exclaimed, “We have been tracing such activity in the past. I was thinking of some new findings regarding our search for human life.”

I was a little bit disgusted to hear it, but my interest was caught after seeing the satellite images. A big pit filled with corpses of dead mutant animals. I was even surprised to see that the imagery was taken from a group of island on the western board of the Pacific Ocean. The nuclear disaster which did occur 20 years ago happened there. So if this is a sign of survivor, how did they survive?

The chief of the settlement ordered us to conduct investigation on the event. Earlier, a robotic fleet was sent to gather specimen from the pit. It is 1800H and we decided to conduct survey the next morning. Feeling a little bit uneasy, I decided to check the specimens.

“I am examining specimen A-01 from the pit. It appears like the genetic structure of the specimen is somehow similar to that of a water buffalo but with some genetic modification.” me recording my voice.

While my eyes were on the ocular of the microscope, the sound of the alarm has brought me to a state of panic. (What is wrong?) I immediately rushed to the command center to execute certain protocols.

“Sir, our engines are destroyed. The power center is damaged and we are currently running on back-up.” Lieutenant X346Q reported.

The uneasy feeling I have been hiding all this time is starting build up on my face. I can feel that something is wrong. I went to check the surveillance video and was startled by the scenes I came across.

“Attention Command Center this is lieutenant X775A. I am sending some footage regarding the inflicted the damage on our ship.” I voiced over the radio.

“This is Command Center; please inform your captain that your ship is placed on a Code Red status. You cannot proceed nor do any action without authorization from the Command Center. Do you copy that?” The command center officer said.

“Yes sir, copied.” I replied.

I was just about to report to the captain when my surrounding went black. I am not able to see not even a single drop of light. The image of a child levitating and throwing some metal like pieces to machine was flashing in my memories. I was worried that the child entered our ship and that he is about to kill us all. With so much fear in me, I manage to find my way back to my quarter where I have my personal emergency kit. Having grabbed the flashlight, my next move was to load my laser beam shooter with ion rods.

Kaboom! The sound of a big explosion has demobilized me as I nervously see the flame rushing straight in front of my eyes. Before it gets to burn my body; I was able to grab a large sheet of metal, probably debris coming from the explosion, just in time to secure me from the scorching heat. In no time, the flame started to subdue and I was forced to drop the flaming hot metal I was holding earlier.

By the time the metal landed on the floor, I started seeing the silhouette of a child. This has brought me so much terror that I grabbed my laser beam and started shooting towards that direction. It’s getting closer to me and I can now barely see the face of an innocent child. Who is this kid and why is he doing this to us? The leaser gun got depleted but nothing has happened. I was in a close distance from the child and was filled with terror.

“Why did you leave us?” The child started crying.

No matter how much I struggle to utter words, my lips are incapacitated to do so. I was in a state of total shock. Though filled with fears, I grabbed the child and hugged him. I was then crying and memories from the child’s past started flashing in my mind.

“Lieutenant X775A can you hear me now?” a strange female voice asked me.

“Who are you and what is this place?” I replied.

I later found out that I was actually lying in a hospital bed back on the moon settlement. The nurse informed me that I was the only survivor rescued from the mission sent to earth. This has caused me so much sorrow that it felt like my heart was bleeding. Why have I not just died? I started recalling fragments of memories from what has happened to me and I then realized what happened that very moment I hugged the child.

Days have passed and I have fully recovered. I was tasked to report to the investigation committee regarding the mission. I will tell them what happened and what I have found out about the world. I want to shed light to the mysteries of the nuclear disaster 20 years ago.

As I was about to speak I get to remember the last few words of the child.

“...Mistakes of the past can no longer be corrected. If you want to help us down here, do it by commemorating the past and making sure that it shall not happen again. You can salvage this world and find us, but let me tell you this - Your quest of finding the last man standing will not make the sacrifices of a large part of the human population serve its purpose. You continue living for us, that’s all we ask.”

I decided to respect what the child has delivered in a collective thought for the people down there. In front of the investigation panel, I made my explanation short.

“What exists down there is a product of our past mistakes. Finding and knowing more about them will only aggravate the sorrow of their hearts. The earth may have our past, but living in the past is surely not good. Let us move forward and make sure that the sacrifices they have made will shed to a better human civilization.”

I walked out from the investigation room full of hope, reformed and ready to forget the past to look for the better future.

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