Last night was a long night for me and my PDEPeers, Jo, Sandy, Lanoy, and Gadz. We evaluated last weekend’s Self Transformation course from 7:00 PM to 11:50 PM, discussing a range of relevant issues, from each facilitator’s self-assessment of the way he or she handled the session assigned to him or her, to the overall logistics of the weekend, to the question of what the participants really have in mind as the end-goal of their undertaking this formation vis-à-vis the attitude and action they exhibit during the course, among others. Suffice to say, we found it in ourselves to go home, so we did.
Sandy drove us to our preferred drop-off spots as Gadz was off to work (as a technical support representative) at 4:00 AM while I needed to get a clearance from the National Bureau of Investigation in the morning, something my new job requires.
I had made arrangements to pass the night at my friend Jay’s flat in Taculing, so I told Sandy to just drop me at Police Station 6, from which Jay’s place is just one tryke ride away. When I got off the van, I suddenly didn’t want to take a tryke, remembering how a tryke driver of these parts once overcharged me 30 pesos for a point-five kilometer ride that’s only 7 pesos on a jeepney. Hindi na ako magpapa-isa ngayon, I resolved. So, I ignored the tryke driver beckoning me over and just walked away, with stupid vengeance, to the other side of the street.
Some 70 strides away and I began to realize what was happening. I realized I could hope all I want for a Taculing PUV to come my way, but that’s unlikely, the time being half past midnight. Feeling sheepish for how I acted and anxious because of the stories of mugging in the area, I trudged along Libertad Road to Jollibee Libertad Branch, nearly a twenty-minute walk past night clubs and KTV bars, closed shops reeking of fish, and people sleeping wherever they could, like carton lined sidewalks, wooden tables that hold market produce during the day, and the meager seats of their pedicabs. I hung out for about 7 minutes with other bystanders at the City Vet-Mercury Drug junction, straining my eye for a determinedly old and outmoded PUV which could rightfully be a Taculing jeep, but, tough luck. Nagtatampo ata sila sakin.
In the end, I asked for a tryke driver to take me to Jay’s place, costing me 30 pesos. Alangan namang lakarin ko pa yun. At least, malayo-layo ang biya-biyahiin nitong tryke na ‘to, worth it ang pera ko, sambit ko sa sarili nang ma-soothe naman ang mga hinanakit ko sa buhay.
I arrived at Jay’s and we chatted for a while, mostly about living on your own, a state I’ll find myself in barely a week from now. I was hoping to glean some helpful tips, particularly on meals: how to save money without sacrificing one’s health or how not to feel hungry when one hasn’t eaten due to budget constraints or budget nonexistence.
Jay must have droned about his years of living alone, for I dozed off. I woke up at 7:00 AM and the face of the guy at the NBI office telling me I must be back there by 7:00 AM swam into my head. Off to the bathroom to wash. No time for breakfast. A little problem with the extra shirt I brought; it was a tad too small, making me look like a bloke with a serious developmental regression, who was left unchecked at the some mall’s Kids’ Garments Section. Pero, hindi ako natinag. My focus was to get the clearance. I bid Jay goodbye and took two jeepney rides.
I was there at the NBI office by 7:50 AM. The queue was not for the faint-hearted, snaking out some yards from the main door. I ignored it and walked past all the people to the entrance. Priority customer yata ako today. A uniformed girl at the entrance was asking me too many questions, which I didn’t answer because I was already holding to her face my expired clearance with her boss’ signature on it. She clearly wasn’t looking and when I made sure she did, she’s obviously unconvinced that I had obtained a “priority treatment seal” from her boss the day before and tenaciously held me up. Thank heavens, I saw the man and went up to him. Without a fuss, he gave me Priority Number 8, with which I proceeded to the cashier.
Over 200 hundred people were there, waiting, asking each other about something they needed to fill out on their respective forms. There was this girl who exclaimed she lost her Priority Number 42. An NBI officer yelled for whoever chanced upon it and a man came forward, albeit reluctantly. Ibalik na sa iya ‘to kay iya na, said the officer, ari imo ya ho, 242. Chuckles rose as did that guy’s hackles. Kahit di pa niya aminin, nanghihinayang talaga siya. With my lucky number 8, I could really care less, so I took out The Spectrum mag and began to read. Tick-tock… tick-tock… Ba’t parang walang development sa paligid. I looked at the cashier’s window. Cerrado. Ganito nga talaga pag gobiyerno, wika ng katabi ko.
Mag-aalas nwebe na. Hindi pa rin bumubukas ang bintana ng cashier. Baka na-flush niya ang sarili sa inodoro. Huwag naman sana. Sana hindi ganun ka tanga ang NBI para mag-hire ng ganun ka tanga na cashier. Sa inis ko, napailing ako sa likod, wanting to check how things are going there. I met the shocked gaze of a woman who blurted, “Ano? Ano ka?” Clearly she took offense. Ale, ganito lang talaga ako makatingin, parang mangangain. If I meant to offend you, I’d have made sure hindi ka na buhay ngayon, you’d have expired on the spot. “For renewal ba kayo o new applicant,” I smiled, using my graciously charming high-IQ-ako-pero-pinahahalagahan-kita tone. “New applicant kami,” she thawed. Ah, kaya pala praning.
An hour past, at last, nakabayad na rin ako sa cashier and was given a receipt. Anong gagawin ko dito? Nagtanong-tanong ako sa mga tatlong katao yata, hanggang sa umabot ako sa opisina nitong babaeng boss din sa lugar na yun. She looked at my receipt. Hindi ‘to pwede, 2006 pa ‘to, kunot noo niyang sinabi. Eh, yan ang binigay sakin ng cashier, depensa ko naman. Basta, ang dami niya pang tanong. Then I realized resibo pala yun ng dati kong clearance na binalik sakin ng cashier. Tange!
The procedure pala is: After paying, one waits for his/her name to be called for ID picture-taking. Next, he/she again waits for the clearance to be printed. Once done, the person’s name is called and the clearance together with the receipt is released at the counter. Malay ko bang ganyan ang proseso, ni wala ngang directiba, visual or verbal, to guide the people around. At ang cashier naman, so unwilling to spew a couple of words to inform the person what’s the next big task, kahit simpleng “Hoy gago, upo ka dun, tatawagin ka namin pag kelangan ka na namin” man lang. Wala, tikom-bibig lang siya sa bigat ng kinikimkim niyang galit sa sangkatauhan. Parang gusto kong sabihin sa kanya, Ale, I think you should look for another job, you’re clearly not happy here eh. Mag-operate ka na lang kaya ng traktorang pangwasak ng lumang highway, tiyak kong angkop na angkop ka para dun. Instead, in the name of Love, pinatawad ko siya. Yup, ganun lang ka simple yun.
Finally, I got my clearance; ngunit, kelangan ko pa ng thumbmark. Kaisa-isahang thumbmark. Naghanap ako ng ink pad. Wala. Turns out, kelangan ko pa palang pumila sa isang kwarto kasama ang mga new applicants na nagpapa-thumbmark for their application forms. Eh, sampung daliri kaya ang kelangan nilang iprenta sa forms nila, whereas I, I NEED ONLY A THUMBMARK. When my turn came, I smiled charmingly at the fingerprinting technician and said, Wala na ba kayong extra ink pad dito? (Wala.) Ah, medyo inutil din pala ang sistema niyo dito ano? (Oo.) Yup, ganun lang ka simple sa kanya ang lahat.
Di ako makatagal sa ganung atmosphere ng inefficiency. Buti na lang, when I had my thumbmark na, binigyan nila ako ng ¼ sheet ng wet tissue. I thought they’d charge me for it, they were charging people 5 pesos for a wet rag to clean their inked fingers with. Kung ganun, pag inked finger lang, libre ang wet wipe. May hustisya din pala sa NBI.
Kahit na, kumaripas pa rin ako palabas, sa pagmamadali kong makalanghap ng hindi gobiyernong hangin. Ano pa’t ako’y buhay na buhay magpasahanggang ngayon.
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