Memoirs from the Jeepney

When I was small, my everyday routine was always confined in my mother’s idea of “keep right.” Everytime my mom would fetch me from school we always rode jeepney. Upon stepping in the jeepney, she would carry me until my feet could reach the floor, people sitting inside would hold my arm and guide me. My mom would follow me after she’s done folding her umbrella. I usually search for bigger space for my mom, and if there is no space for the two of us I would just sit on her lap.

 

She always wanted us to sit at the right side, because for her (and to some other people) it is safer there. I was always her follower though. But not when I stepped college. There were so many instances in my life that I begun to question her ideologies.

 

Last September, me and my girlfriend rode a jeepney together. It was almost ten (10 pm). The jeepney we were riding unloaded a passenger in an unlighted street of Boulevard. The place was dark, and no other people were there but just few tricycle drivers. After unloading, our jeepney started to accelerate slowly, maybe the driver was trying not to miss a passenger.

 

Suddenly, a splash of something from the window broke the silence inside the jeepney. A bunch of kids ran towards our direction. The driver quickly stepped on the gas and left the place. A middle aged woman was wet on her nape and back. She was disgusted. There was a cellophane beside her. passengers concluded that kids threw a cellophane of urine in our jeepney. The smell was awful! Passengers exchanged comments about those kids, all were terrified. The middle aged woman who was hit was so mad, that she wanted to cry and burst in anger.

 

The thing was, she sat on the right side.

 

Right side of the jeepney is the sidewalk side. Nobody can tell what people in the street can do to passengers sitting helplessly inside the jeepney.

 

Now, everytime I ride a jeepney I disobey my mom, and sit at the left side, for it is safer there.

 

Tags: creative nonfiction, edwin, jeepney, memoir, Prose