SABBATICAL NOTES. 19 MAY 2014. MONDAY. N2. In honor of Ms Jayraldine Gigi Jaime: a psychologist and mother, 32, who decided to become a cab driver for her child, 4. I GOT THE SHOCK of my life yesterday. Really shocked. I have lived in a country where roles are defined, even gendered even if in the beginning of time this was not so, and thus, to my astonishment, I just went stupefied when I hopped into the cab I flagged and there before me was young cab driver, sweetly smiling, and her ways welcoming. Her ways. She is a she. I ask pardon for these gender and gendered references, but in the Metro Manila of machos, false and otherwise including those machos who cheat and plunder the government, to see a lady behind the wheel of a cab is like seeing the Angel Gabriel when you least expect it. It took me some time before I could say anything. Where are we going, sir? she asked, her voice that of the colegiala of Saint Paul or Miriam College (after it went co-ed), and St Scholasticas---schools all that I had the chance to impart the little knowledge that I know, in philosophy and other disciplines. To UP, I said. There was a lump in my throat. No, at Jollibee Philcoa, but we will pass by UP Diliman campus. I know the way. I will show you. Thank you, sir. I do not know yet where to go. Been driving a cab for less than two months. This is my second month. She was apologetic, and I saw her hands, slim and smaller than a mans, like those delicate hands of my two daughters or my many nieces. She could have been my daughter too in a previous lifetime. Excuse me, but let me ask you a question, I said. It is not everyday that I see a lady driving a cab. Let me be honest. It is my first time to see a lady cab driver in the Philippines. Elsewhere, I have seen several. But not here. Definitely. It was a late decision that came in handy, sir, she said, her voice gaining that lilt and song that one can sense after one had come into a good vibe with a stranger (or so I thought). I was working in an office. I finished a degree in psychology, worked from 8-5 in a clerical job, a job that deprived me of having some quality time with my child. My marriage went sour and for four years, I have been raising my child by myself. For the first two years of the break-up of my marriage, I was alone, depressed, and did not know how to face life. But I have to live for my child. I have to be strong and be brave for my child. So I picked up the pieces, and here I am, away from a dead-end office work, and now, I am on the road every other day. Is it better for you? It is much, much better, sir. I get to be with my child full-time every other day. It did not happen before, not when I was working in an office. Can I blog your story? A newspaper person asked me that, and I said No. But I could give you permission to do it. Now. I will take a picture of you. Yes, sir. And I took her picture, Ms Jayraldine, and I gave her my blessing, and I told her, we will meet again. We exchanged contact number too, and I promised to give her one of those Guimaras rosaries I bought wholesale when I went there last year. DILIMAN/
Posted on: Mon, 19 May 2014 02:55:34 +0000
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