Who would have thought that even a beggar or “pulubi” who stretches his arm out for people’s alms has his own story to tell? Behind the calloused hands and ragged appearance, who would have thought that he too, ignored and dehumanized most of the time, has his own story to share?
Amidst the hustle and the bustle in the crowded Divisoria of Cagayan de Oro, it’s hard not to notice these unfortunate people who do seem to be out of place: the beggars. Today, it is presumably safe to say that this segment of the population we call “mga pulubi” is almost a common sight in almost every corner of our country – a disheartening fact which only affirms how miserable the state of the Philippines has become.
In connection, for our first Formation Group (FG) Social Exposure activity, our group chose to integrate ourselves to the lives of our neglected “pulubi” brothers, particularly those who dwell in Divisoria. In this activity, I, together with John Ed and Micah, had the chance to stoop and listen to the story of Danilo Fernandez, a 70-year-old pauper who has considered Divisoria his home and shelter for almost a year now.
He had just awoken from his light nap on a concrete bench when we spotted him. His clothes, tattered and dirtied with the pollution around him, were on the same untidy state as his shaggy, uncombed hair. The veins of his body were very pronounced, almost matching the long, untrimmed nails of his hands and feet. It was a poor sight that truly made our hearts weep with pity and sympathy.
As we sat beside him, we were all ears to what he has to share. He did not delve anymore into details but it seemed that he was left abandoned here in Cagayan de Oro by his daughter when they were about to set off back to Luzon (as he is originally from Luzon). From then on, he lost contact with his family and relatives and began a struggle for survival as a street beggar, enduring not only the scorching heat of the day and the night’s icy breeze, but also all the humiliation stoned at him, as any other person tagged as ‘pulubi’ would have to brace up for.
It was hard for him. Knowing that his own family has abandoned him has definitely lowered his spirit. Each day passed without certainty of reaching the next. Each day’s sunset took with melancholy, with the lingering fear of not seeing tomorrow’s dawn. It was indeed a daily cycle of an uneventful life.
But it doesn’t end there. In my part, as a mere listener and observer, I was deeply moved by the one thing he still keeps in his heart: his faith, which was evident in the terse statements he uttered that included God, as tears kept rolling down his saggy cheeks. He has not forgotten God even in such bleak situation he is now in. It is that strong kind of faith that helps anyone to see hope to spring amidst the futility of the circumstances. And it is such faith that makes the poor and the feeble likeKuya Danilo to be rich of God’s love and to be strong against the odds.
***
The scanty amount of food (a burger plus a tetra-pack of juice, an apple and an orange) that we gave him served unimportant compared to what we have realized: that we should not judge other people by the preconceived stories our minds unreliably create about them, but instead, by the stories they have to tell when we first lend them our ears... and hearts. :)
