Bleak

I had this written late February, I think. Posting it for the archive. :)

Bleak
By Eleonor T. Baldo

Birds are actually chirping outside the window. There are children playing on the pavement. It’s a bright sun shiny day. It’s a weekday and I am home. It is not a national holiday and there has not been a national strike organized for the day. There is not even a coup, or a mutiny, or a call for the people to gather and revolt. It is not even the elections. There is absolutely no reason why I should be home and not earning my day’s wage so I could have something to eat. No reason except that I am plainly out of work. Unemployed. Just like probably a considerable percentage of the Filipino population.
But having so many people in the same boat with me is not comforting. For one, it’s not a good boat and for another there are too many people aboard. We will not burn like that recent ferry accident. We will not even notice it that we have already sunk at the bottom of the ocean. We will not even notice the water seeping in. We will just see how many we are in the boat. We will not pat each other’s backs and say, “it’s okay.” We will look at each other’s eyes and say, “We have to get out of this boat, or get out of this country.” Heck, even those who are not in the boat want to get out of the country. Which, on hind sight, does not seem too bad. If four of ten people want to leave the country and that if they actually did, and of course they would bring along their families, the Philippines’ population will significantly be lowered. A significant portion of the workforce will be outside the country so there will be a demand for jobs inside the country. All the other people still with me in the boat would be out of it and we won’t have to leave the country! The Philippines is not over speeding towards entropy after all. But then, I am merely humoring myself. If I don’t get myself some source of income soon, I will soon be begging in the streets. But then again, there are some days the beggar makes more money than a regular workman. Maybe that is why they always go back, dressed for the day’s “work.” I am still humoring myself.

There should be some sense in this unemployed existence. I can make it a time of refreshing. Freedom from the stress of beating deadlines or producing outputs. Freedom from bosses who think you are magic workers able to complete tasks by the millions. Freedom from routines of office work. But then I used to work for a health organization that hopes to make a difference in the health of Asian populations. And I used to work for a research team that looks into the health practices of indigenous women. I liked what I used to work for. I don’t work for them anymore because I got lost somewhere and now I’m back and unemployed. Besides, the tasks were project based- at the mercies of funding organizations or clients.
They are still around – the people I used to work with. As May 2004 approaches, people are getting more desperate and hopeless over the future of the Philippines. Some people said I had the chance out. I was already out of the country. I should have stayed there. I should not have come back. I came back, though, not only because there is family and friends to come back to at home, but also because I refuse to lose hope in the country. There is still hope because there are still people who believe that people’s lives can get better. And they are working for it. At the end of May, I might have a president I might not be proud of, and a hoard of other politicians I abhor ruling this country. But there will still be people who pray, who believe that the Philippines will have a year of fullness and years of overflowing after. There is still hope because I still look forward to the birth of my nephew or niece. There is hope because I am still sending out my resumes and crossing my fingers. There is hope because I still find “help – wanted” advertisements in the newspapers. I refuse to shake my head over the seemingly bleak future of my country. I have to hold on to that because there are children still playing on the pavement outside where I live.

At the end of May, I might still be in the boat of the unemployed. But there is still June, and six other months after that. I can start planting my own vegetables if I run out of food. A can of soil is enough to grow a pechay plant. I’ll get myself many cans. I can exchange my vegetables for rice. I will survive.
The chickens are crowing. It’s three in the afternoon. See, even the chickens call out to the sun even when it’s already up. What more when it is down. The sun will set in a few hours. It will be night. There is morning to look forward to. Even in my unemployed existence.

Author’s Introduction:
I am 26 years old and a graduate of UP Baguio. I had originally planned to have something published in Youngblood so I could advertise myself. But I may be described with three words: Christian, Pahinungod, and Cordilleran. Thank you