Tough Day

I went back to the field today, in a slum area somewhere in QC. I've never been this tired from field work before. I've never been this tired... and empty. Not sad, not happy, just empty.

So okay, I rode the tricycle going there like I normally do, expecting the same round of field work that I did the last time I was there. When I got to the site, Nanay Ruby, my area coordinator, wasn't at our meeting place! So I stayed in the trike, trying to reach her. I didn't know a single soul in the area. Not a single one. "Kuya, wag nyo po ako iwan dito..." I asked the tricycle driver. It's just the sort of community you DON'T wanna be left alone in. The neighborhood tambays with their tattoos, the stray dogs, the old men with their strange eyes looking at you, it's all there.

"Nanay Ruby...." I silently pleaded."Where are you...."

I must have sat there at the trike for five minutes or so. Nanay Ruby was just nowhere in sight and she wasn't picking up her phone. Finally I just asked, "Kuya, nasan ho yung Barangay Hall?" I figured the Brgy. Hall was relatively safe. He pointed me to a building a few steps away. Relieved, I paid the tricycle driver and walked to what I thought was a good waiting area.

When I got there, it's NOT the Barangay Hall I was looking for. Apparently, the Barangay Hall I was looking for is on the opposite side of the street, past the slum houses. I could see the top of it, but to get there I had to go through the maze of dilapidated houses and dark, narrow alleyways. So I stood there, stupidly looking at it and figuring out how to get there at the same time. "Miss miss, anong hinahanap nyo?" one man asked me.

I looked at him warily. He was this bald man, with torn sando and missing teeth. "Yung Barangay Hall ho..."

"Halika sasamahan kita!"

I was torn. One part of me wanted to go with him just to get to the other side, the other part was saying I should just stay where I was. "Wag ka sumama dyan, holdaper yan! Waaaahhahaha!" one of the men jeered, laughing with his inuman buddies.

For the first time in my whole field work experience, in my WHOLE field work experience, I was scared. I was actually scared for my life. "Ahhh mag tatrike nalang ako..." I said, taking a few steps back.

"Mas malalayo ka pa kapag nagtrike ka! Halika na!"

My mind was racing then. He didn't look anything. He didn't look friendly and he didn't look mean. He blended with the people and he could be anybody. A driver, a father, a carpenter, a thief, anybody. His face was the sort of face you forgot as soon as it turned. I looked around and all the men were looking to see what I'd do. I went with him, just to avoid the stares. Putangina subukan lang nya!!! Subukan lang nya gumawa ng kahit ano, tangina sisigaw talaga ako.... or sisipain ko nalang sya... or siguro tatakbo nalang ako...

So while we were going through the maze, through the dark alleyways, past the dilapidated houses, I actually burst into prayer. Loooordddd..... I don't remember what I was saying or doing, except that I was hugging my bag and mumbling all sorts of things.

Thankfully and obviously, he didn't do anything. When I got to the other side, I muttered a quick thanks and rushed inside the hall. I texted Milan, "Milan, nandito lang ako sa ____. So kung hindi na ko bumalik, alam mo na kung saan ipapahanap yung katawan ko." It was stupid, I know. I had to make some goddamn light out of the situation.

Apparently, Nanay Ruby was there at our meeting place, then she left, then she came back again and now nobody knew where she was. A Kagawad offered to accompany me to look for Nanay Ruby. He led me past a couple of houses, and again my mind started revving up for another round of suspicion. Where is he taking me? Is this the right way? Why is he going here? Finally, we found Nanay Ruby a couple of houses past our meeting place.

I think it was the incident with the neighborhood tambays that unnerved me so much. It triggered an avalanche of paranoia. Everywhere I went, I noticed, or maybe imagined, every detail: the emaciated, scabied dogs, the women with their messy hair whispering among themselves and the old houses that looked like they could collapse any second. I remember this man who looked like he was high on something. He had no shirt on and he was laughing and talking by himself. Putangina baka saksakin ako nito!!! Then there was this little girl who looked too big to be playing with dolls. Like the shirtless man, she was laughing and talking by herself. When she noticed me, she stopped and looked at me as if I were going to grab her doll. Then there was another man, shirtless like the others, and he seemed to be following us. When we turned left, he turned left. When we went right, he went right. By then Nanay Ruby and I were deep in the maze of houses, and there were nobody else in sight. Sinusundan ba kami nito? Anong gagawin nya? Hihilahin nya bag ko? May kutsilyo ba sya? I anticipated every move. I saw some women playing cards and some other numbers game and I immediately thought, jueteng! Baka i-raid kami ng pulis dito! Such were the things that ran in my head.

When I got home, I think I just dropped down on my bed. I wasn't relieved to be home. It wasn't relief, no. I was too tired to be relieved. It was more like surrender.

I didn't want to talk to anyone about it, especially not my parents, but when my dad asked how my field work went, I couldn't help it. I told him scared I'd been and how surprised I was at how scared I'd been. I told him about the neighborhood tambays, about the men with tattoos who would jeer at you and shout "miss miss, kami naman interviewhin mo!" I told him about the dogs, about the tetanus-inducing nails that jut out of houses and that you could easily bump into if you weren't looking. I told him about the rats and roaches and the flies that swarmed the fish they sold in the dirty, noisy market. I told him about the stench of shit and piss and how mothers just let their babies shit and piss wherever they wanted. I told him how hot it was, how noisy. I told him how tired I was and how much my head hurt.

"Ibang iba talaga ang mundo na yan..." my dad commented, not in an unkind way. I remembered how he'd come from the poor provinces in Iloilo too. "Iba talaga yan, matira matibay dyan..."

He told me how he'd been a kubrador once, how he'd make some school money out of making bets and being a kubrador. He told me how his neighbors ate the stray dogs in their area or how the people would drink to escape their lives. "Wala pang drugs nun, so inuman lang parati. Yung mga tao umiinom nalang para makatakas sa buhay."

I was so drained from being on my goddamn guard the whole afternoon. I felt everything, smelled everything, saw everything, imagined everything. I remember sitting on a rickety wooden chair while I waited for an interview to start. I was just looking around at the place and I kept figuring out how much fucking guts it takes to rise out of this hellhole.Poverty really does break you. It's not just the ugliness, the squalor or the depravity. It's the cycle of ugliness, squalor and depravity. Every single day you wake up and it's the same shit. Literally and figuratively. Then you wake up the next day, and the next, and you keep thinking that nothing will change, so why bother? I've been doing field work for some time now, but today was the first time I felt really, utterly broken.