League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

Ask a Filipino what he or she loves most about the Philippines, and you’re sure to get a myriad of answers. There’s the wind sand beaches with sand as pillowy soft as baby powder, the fantastic shopping in both bargain centers and high-end boutiques, the romantic sunsets, the rugged mountain ranges, the list can go on and on.

And while all those answers are true, if you ask me what I love most about my country, I will tell you that I love our men – specifically, our jeepney drivers. Yes, I am serious.

My friends always tease me about my predilection to what they label as men who are “ers”: drivers, waiters, and blue collar laborers in general.

They say this is because I’m nice to ‘ers’. Anywhere I encounter them, I talk to them, I sometimes joke around with them and make small talk.

What they don’t know is that many years ago, back when there was no MRT or FX, I would commute some 15 kms every day to UP Diliman. Since this was back in the day when the EDSA flyovers were still being built, this kilometer reading translates to a travel time of about 2-2 ½ hours each way.

This went on for about 4 years during which I went through it all the hardships every commuter faces – heat, god-awful rain, waiting at a jeepney stop for long periods of time, pushing and shoving and fighting to get into a jeep when it finally arrived, the smog, the heat (jeepneys are not exactly air-conditioned) and of course, the many stops the jeepneys make along the way – which also may explain my long travel time.

There are many realizations when you ride the jeepney versus riding another form of public transportation like the FX or the MRT, such as:

> Jeepneys are painted with their own unique grafetti that are reflective of Pinoy pop culture like Katas ng Saudi, Laki sa Hirap and my all-time favorite: Basta dryber, sweet lover.

> The jeepney’s parallel seating arrangement make you may be more prone to motion sickness.

> The seat up front next to the driver, may be more comfortable because you’re sitting face forward, but it is also more uncomfortable. For one thing, it’s extremely cramped; its legroom would make economy class seem like First Class. For anther, it’s also hotter because if I remember right, that’s where something like the battery is located. You know how jeepney drivers always have a towel around their necks? Well, they literally are sitting in a hot seat.

> People in enclosed air-conditioned cars have no idea how much noise pollution they make when they honk their horns.

But the realization that stuck with me the most was that jeepney drivers, despite their notoriety as bullies lording and dangerously careening over the streets, are really some of the nicest, most generous people I have ever met.

Yes, met.

Countless times, during my 2-2 ½ hour ride to school, I would get to chat with jeepney drivers and talk to them. (I would often scoot myself to seat right behind the driver or sit up front with them. Once, I even squeezed myself on the left – hand side of the jeep where the spare tire is.)

They would ask me the usual questions like what school I went to. When I would tell them that I was studying at UP, they would always be instantly impressed, making conclusions about intelligence and academic achievement.

They would ask me what course I was taking. When I’d tell them that I was studying Journalism, they instantly made predictions about how I was sure to be the next Loren Legarda (before she was a senator, she was an award-winning journalist).

I would downplay these praises in a typical self-effacing manner. And they would reassure me that I had a bright future ahead of me. I remember one jeepney driver lightly admonishing me for belittling myself, telling me that there was a difference between showing off and simply telling the truth. “Hindi ka naman nagyayabang, nagsasabi ka lang ng totoo. Walang masama dun.”, I remember him saying.

They would tell me that I should study hard and whatever I do, never ever marry a
jeepney driver because “mahirap ang buhay”.

Always, after having chatted with me, they wouldn’t let me pay for my fare. I would insist, but they would just as adamantly refuse my payment and say that saw their own sons/daughters in me and would never ask their kids to pay them for bringing them to school. “Para na din kitang anak, bakit pa kita papabayarin nyan.?”

Others would make me promise to study hard, saying that this was payment enough.
“Sige na, galingan mo na lang ang pag-aaral mo.” [No need to pay, just study hard.]

When they would say this to me, I felt that their underlying meaning was that I had a chance at a good future, a better life; and I shouldn’t waste it because others don’t get such chances.

To an impressionable 17 year old who was not entirely sure what the future held for her, still questioned her capability and well, just wondered if she could make it in this world, their words of praise, encouragement and wisdom made a great impact on me.

But what touched me the most was their gift of generosity. They wouldn’t let me pay for my fare saying that that a free ride was the only thing they could give me in exchange for our pleasant conversation.

When you think of how much jeepney drivers make in a day, you would know that every paying passenger matters and that the saying ‘every centavo counts’ takes on a literal meaning. This made their ‘simple’ gift of a free ride all the more meaningful to me.

Seventeen years later, though not yet an award-winning journalist, I don’t have to commute anymore.

But I have never forgotten the lessons and the kindness of these jeepney drivers who safely took me to and from school in their jeepneys.

I still wish I could thank them. They probably don’t remember me anymore, but I wish I could show them that I did study hard and worked even harder to somehow make something of myself. In part, I have their faith in me and their kindness to thank for that.

So instead, everytime I encounter an er: a driver, a waiter or a cab driver, I make it a point to be extra nice to them and talk to them. I show them that I may have my own car now, but I haven’t forgotten their kindness and their free rides.

So when in Manila, check out our world-famous jeepneys, (the hop-on, hop off versions are now air-conditioned. They are a unique, colorful tourist attraction in themselves. And better yet, don’t miss the chance to chat up the driver and see for yourself why Philippine jeepney drivers belong to their own league of extra ordinary gentlemen.

This post is this blogger’s official entry to the When in Manila contest to win a free or partial scholarship to Anton Diaz’s Maven Secrets course at the Asian Institute of Management. This blogger wants to uncover the secrets of successful blog marketing so that she can publicly market her blog about the struggles and real – life dramas of being single motherhood in a country where ‘divorce’ isn’t even legal. Blog marketing and promotion is a concept that continued to remain elusive to her, despite her many attempts at trying.

For more information about Manila's other tourist attractions, log onto http://www.wheninmanila.com