a rainy day in april

Quezon Ave. Quezon City


Even under the bright and searing April sun these sidewalks were difficult to navigate. It's mostly a patchwork of concrete with a little sense of continuity, broken up here and there by on-going construction work, uncovered rocks and pebbles, huge cracks wide enough to swallow a good-sized pedestrian, trees, power posts and tables set up by peddlers pushing their wares.

One day in April when the sun was just claiming it's perch at high noon, I decided to follow the path and take on the city planners and see how seriously they regard their responsibilities.

But nature, as the cliche goes, had other plans.

Seemingly out of nowhere, dark clouds drifted below the sun and dimmed the bright day. Lightning sliced the air like a whip and thunder cracked fiercely. The skies opened up.

Caught unprepared and suddenly wet, I raced up against the nearest building wall looking for an overhang deep enough to keep the downpour at bay. There were none. Chalk one up for the argument against the city planners. In a city frequented by heavy rains, most storefronts are not protected by deep overhangs. I decided that the city planners are not up to par. By far. Not that nobody before me ever noticed. Ha ha ha.

A few minutes later, I knew that the set up was not working for me so I decided to strike camp. I looked around and spied a 7-11 down the street.

The glass door opened before I had a chance to push it with my hand but it wasn't an automated door. And no security guard was behind it either ( which was a bit unusual in this part of town). As I stepped in across the threshold, I noticed a little boy, no more than 8 years old, holding the door open. I thought he was trying to get out so I stepped aside to make room for him. But he just proceeded to shut the door only to open it again for the next customer following behind me. He was, I realized, opening and closing the door for every customer that walked into the store, acting like a door man. Or a security guard. The salesclerk ringing purchases was just a few feet behind him manning the register. The little boy was wearing a gray t-shirt, khaki shorts and a pair of worn flipflops. And an obsequious smile.

I bought a bottle of soda and sat on a barstool at the bench next to the window. I thought I'd watch the traffic from where I sat and wait out the rain. I tried to strike a conversation with the people sitting next to me, mostly women, but got nowhere.

Moments later I saw the boy loitering nearby and curiosity got the better of me. I asked him if he worked there. Was he the brother of the girl behind the register? Or maybe her kid? He gave me a shy smile but shook his head at my questions. What are you doing here then? No answer. I noticed that some of the customers left the bench without bussing after themselves. I ask the boy if he could take care of the trash left by the other people. He promptly ditched them in the trash bin.

The rain has not let up but I was getting bored, claustrophobic and hungry so I decided to make another audacious dash a couple of blocks down the street to Chow King. I ordered beef Lo Mein and Tokwa at Baboy. And killed time. The rain poured outside as the day wore on.

It was now early in the evening and the rain has somewhat abated but hasn't stopped altogether. You can still see the interminable ripples on the puddles that were now everywhere on the sidewalks and streets. But it was Miller Time, I decided. I wanted a beer. Or beers. San Miguel. Anything.

I stepped outside and retraced my way back up the street to get to the overpass I needed to climb to get across the street where QP's bar was situated. Like a man walking across a mine field I was being careful where to put my feet down avoiding mud spots and water puddles, trying to keep my feet dry even if the rest of me was almost completely drenched.

Then in the gathering darkness, as I was about to stretch my leg across a puddle, something caught my eye.

Something slumped against an old unkempt building wall. Nestled against the wall and a 12" built up post and under a corresponding 12 "deep soffit ten feet above, sitting tangently in a fetal position was a little kid, fast asleep in a picture of exhaustion. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, khaki shorts and flip flops. His outfit was mostly wet especially his shorts and part of his shirt; the soffit was hardly enough to keep out the rain.

It took a second to register, but I recognized him. It was the boy at the door at the 7-11 store. For a minute, I stood there, unsure of what to do. Then I turned and walked, in the water and on mud, in straight line towards the overpass. I didn't look back.

I suddenly needed the beer.