I dont know if this is posted here already but ive tried searching it
but no relevant result was found.
Also, i dont know the exact date it happened or if this is a real story.
anyways, ill share something to you that was forwarded by my friend.
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HELLO,
please take time to read this very nice story of our warehouse storekeeper
here in lexmark....as in touching au ni and daghan na kau ni.email ani nya
to share and help our young "basureros". Maybe this story could inspire and
change you as well....enjoy reading- pnky
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Ever since it was diagnosed that I am? having a? posible heart enlargement
in the last APE, I have exerted more effort to do physical exercises.? I do
jogging during week days and do long - ride mountain biking every Sunday.
But this Sunday is a special Sunday to me. While I was on my way to the
mountains of Busay hoping to strengtened? my heart by this exercise,
instead, I personally encountered a heart-breaking? scene that changed me.
I already passed the? Marco Polo Plaza ( formerly Cebu Plaza Hotel ) when I
decided to stop to buy bananas at a small carenderia located along the
road. I haven’t taken any solid food that morning? so I need fruits to have
the needed energy? to get to my destination - the mountain? top. I almost
done eating with the second banana when I noticed two children across the
street busily? searching? the garbage area. “Basureros”? I said to myselt
and? quickly turn? my attention away from them to sip a small amount of
water. I cared less for these kind of children actually; to make it
straight, I do not like them, and I do not trust them evenmore. You see,
several times I have been a victim to these kind of children who are
pretending to be basureros looking for? empty bottles? and cans? when in
fact the? ‘plangganas’, ‘kalderos’, and ‘hinayhays’ are their favorites.?
I
remember one afternoon? while I was watching a Mike Tyson fight when I
noticed? that the TV screen suddenly became blurred. I checked outside and
saw two young basureros running away with my newly installed antenna.
Hatred may be a little bit stronger word to describe my feeling towards
these basureros, but I do not like them honestly ? not till I met these
three children.
?I was about to embark on my bike again when I heard one of the two
children, a girl of about 7 or 8 of age saying aloud to the other , a 12-yr
old boy , “ kuya si dodong? kuha-a kay? nag-sige’g tan-aw sa mga nagkaon,
mauwaw ta” , only then that I noticed a small boy standing? near to me
biting slightly his finger. He’s a few inches shorter if compared to my 5
years old son ( but I knew later that he’s also 5 yrs. Old). Though he did
not asked for food to anyone in the carenderia, the way he looked at the
customers who were eating , enough to convinced me that he intensely
craving for it. The older boy then quickly crossed the? street and gently
pulled out the little one who politely obeyed. As I watched the two
crossing back the street to the garbage area, I heard the tindera saying “
Lo-oy kaayo nang mga bataa uy, mga buotan ra ba na”. I learned further from
the carenderia owner that the children are from a good family , both
parents were working before , and that their? father got a stroke 3 years
ago and became partially paralized? and? their mother died of heart attack
while their father? was still confined at the hospital. The parents were
still in their early forties when the catastrophe? happened , and? the
children became basureros since then to meet their daily needs and for
their father’s medication.
Deeply moved by what I heard, I went? to a nearby? bakery and bought 20
pesos worth of bread and? gave it to the children who initially refused
including the little boy.? “ Sige lang noy, salamat na lang, magpalit lang
nya mi kung mahalinan na mi” the young girl said to me. I explained that
they need to go home because it started to rain . “ Naanad na man mi ani “
the girl answered again. Again, I explained that the rain can make them
sick and if they’ll become sick there’s no one to take care of their
father. Upon mentioning their father, they nodded and acccept the bread but
I noticed that the older boy did not ate. When I asked him if he does not
like the kind of bread I bought for them he smiled but as he’s about to
explain, the little girl, who is the more talker of them interrupted, “
Domingo man gud ron ,noy,? basta Sabado ug Domingo hapon ra siya mokaon
kami ra ang mokaon ug pamahaw pero dili na pod mi mokaon inig hapon, si
kuya ra. Pero basta Lunes ngadto sa Biyernes, kay klase man , si kuya? ra
sad ang seguro-on ug papamahaw, kami hapon na sad mi moka-on “? Pero kung
daghan mi ug halin? mokaon mi tanan.”?? she? continued.? “Ngano man diay ug
mokaon mong tanan, bahinon ninyo bisan ug unsa ka gamay?”? I countered.
The young girl reasoned out that their? father wanted that her older
brother to come to school with full stomachs so he can? easily catch up the
teacher’s lessons. “Inig ka trabaho ni kuya mo undang na man mi ug pamasura
, first honor baya na siya? “ the little boy added proudly.
Maybe I? was? caught by surprise or I am just overly emotional that my
tears started to fall. I then quickly? turned my back from them to hide my
tears and pretended to pick up my bike from the carenderia where I left it.
I don’t know how many seconds or minutes I spent just to compose myself;
pretending again this time that I was mending by bike.
Finally I get on to my bike and approached the three children to bid goobye
to them who in turn cast their? grateful smiles at me. I then took a good
look? at all of them specially to the small boy and pat his head with a
pinch in my heart. Though I believe that their positive look at life can
easily change their present situation, there is one thing that they can
never change; that is , their being motherless. That little boy can no
longer taste the sweet embrace, care, and most of all , the love of his
mother ? forever. Nobody can refill the empty gap created by that sudden
and untimely death of their mother. Every big events that will happen to
their lives will only remind them and make them wish of their mother’s
presence.
I reached to my pocket and handed to them my last 100 peso bill which I
reserved for our department’s bowling tournament. This time they refused
strongly but I jokingly said to the girl “ sumbagon teka? ron kung di nimo
dawaton” . She smiled as she extended her hand to take the money. “ Salamat
noy makapalit gyud me ron ug tambal ni papa “? she uttered.?? I then turned
to the small boy and though? he’s a few feet away from me, I still noticed
that while his right hand was holding the half - filled sack ,? his left
hand was holding a toy ? a worn out toy car. I waved my hands and said bye
bye to him as? I drove towards the mountains again. Did he just found the
toy in the garbage area ? or? the toy was originally his - when the
misfortune did not took place yet? - I did not bother to ask. But one thing
is crystal clear to me ? that inspite of the boy’s abnormal life, he did
not given up his childhood completely. I can sense it that way he hold and
stare at his toy.
My meeting with that young basureros made me poorer by 100 pesos. But they
changed? me and made me more richer as to lessons of life are concerned. In
them, I learned that life can changed suddenly? and may caught me flat
footed. In them, I’ve learned that even the darkest side of life, cannot
change the beauty of one’s heart. Those three children, who sometimes
cannot eat three times a day, still able to hold on to what they believe
was right. And what a contrast to most of us who are quick to point out to
our misfortunes when caught? with our mistakes. In them, I’ve learned to
hope for things when? things seem to go the other way.
?Lastly, I know that God cares for them far more than I do. That though He
allowed them to experience such a terrible life which our finite minds
cannot comprehend, His unquestionable love will surely follow them through.
And in God’s own time they will win.
by Mark Igot of Lexmark International Philippines.
Basurero
Originally Posted by kenoidz
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