The Monstrosity That Is

THE EBL HALL PAGING SYSTEM

Rowena Rose Lee

            The Elias B. Lopez Hall Paging System has a life of its own. He is a bizarre creature with a voice that posses only a brain box, voice box, veins, and multiple lips that adorn the dormitory walls.  His main purpose in life is to annoy other entities into distraction – and that includes people, trolls and frogs.  The EBL Hall Paging System is the voice of un-reason, the voice of repetition, the voice of nonsense. 

            Elias B. Lopez Hall is a much too respectful name for a dormitory from hell. One can find it (what’s the word?) languishing (yes!) in disrepair in the boondocks of UP in Mindanao.  Nothing in the dorm can be considered respectful.  In fact, it is an unspoken rule that carrying respect into the premises of EBL Hall is a crime punishable by death: a slow torturous demise that entails smelling each toilet bowl every morning.  Many believe that the top hierarchical beings’ primary reason for installing the paging system in the dorm is to remind its residents not to bring a stitch of respect anyplace near its vicinity.

            Thus, the paging system – THE PAGING SYSTEM – from henceforth will be called TPS, is born.

            TPS, whose veins reach into the length and breadth of the dorm, actually comes to life in the lobby.  His brain, if we could accord him the honor that he ACTUALLY has a brain, resides in a rectangular piece of machine hidden under the eaves of the service counter.  His (shall we say) “brain box” has several impressive looking switches and buttons, of which only one really works.  A dilapidated microphone, which serves as his “voice box,” hangs on a hook besides his brain. This is where the different voices of TPS begin.

            It is fortunate indeed, that there are no institutions that are against the abuse of microphones, for TPS probably owns the most maltreated MIC in the world. It is not uncommon to hear pages like so¹:

            “Paging … (bog, bog, bog) … Hello? Hello? … Paging … (garbled name) … please proceed to the lobby … (bog, bog, bog) … Hello? … (bog, bog, bog) … Hello? … (bog, bog, bog) … Paging …”

            Supposedly hidden (but blatantly exposed) wires or veins from TPS’ brain box hang haphazardly along the ceiling corners of the dormitory.  These veins can be likened to cobwebs emerging from the (uh, what’s the word?) back parts … hind quarters … behind … a-hole …. excretory hole (whatever) of very direction-challenged spider suffering from a severe case of diarrhea. TPS’ veins then terminate either into cheap speakers or worse still, into megaphones.  In continuing the tradition of absurdity, some of TPS’ shoebox-sized black speakers are painted yellowish white to match the yellowing walls of the dormitory.

            TPS is a rebellious spirit, although he posses none of the attributes of a “true” spirit.  Like all dormers of the EBL Hall, he is keen on breaking rules, especially rules concerning him!

            In the dorm lobby, a sign reads: “PAGING SYTEM: 8:00 AM TO 9:00 PM ONLY!”

            Hapless dormers, however, can hear TPS demanding for someone to get down to the lobby “pagdali²” as early as six in the morning and sometimes as late as eleven-thirty in the evening.  One can only surmise three scenarios for TPS' rebelliousness.  One, TPS is so deprived of basic education that he cannot read. Two, TPS is blind (more probable as he possess no eyes or sight apparatuses). And three, TPS is befuddled by what the correct time is (granting him the honor that he can actually tell time.)³

            The one thing that really distinguishes TPS from other paging systems in the world is his different voices and his different ways of speaking.  He has this uncanny ability to of voice metamorphosis.  His voice can be sometimes be piercing, sad, harsh and guttural, melodious, slow, very slow, feminine, funny, deep, mellow.  But if there is one word to describe the voice of TPS, it would have to be INSUFFERABLE. Dormers, which include “normal”⁴ people, a troll in A37, and frogs from the bathroom, are known to react differently to TPS’ voice.  “Normal” people shun it, affecting selective deafness.  Others like the troll in A37 and her like types seem to fancy hearing their names being repeatedly broadcasted by TPS.  While others like the frogs emerging from the first floor toilets take on more violent reactions.  These frogs (and some dormers), have been seen scrambling away and bumping into walls when TPS speaks. 

            On rare good days⁵, when TPS comes to life, one can hear him humming deeply over the speaker and he delivers a message that is clear and audible. 

            But on typically, bad, badder, baddest⁶ days, TPS screeches static on the lines that he gleefully mixes with the noise of the lobby, the blaring TV, the repulsive chorus of the song BECAUSE OF YOU, and the ringing of the phone⁷.  Then he announces repeatedly a message that is so incomprehensible minute after beastly minute. Perhaps TPS’ demented mind believes that repetition makes him more endearing to his hearing public.  We may never know the real score, but TPS does teach a lot of people lessons in tolerance.

            When TPS speaks, it does not automatically mean that he speaks reasonably.  In fact, there are many unreasonable messages that float out of his lips. Have you heard him page for a being named Erik from a (what?) cow?

            “Paging Erik of baka … Erik of baka, please proceed to the lobby.”⁸

            There are many other (what’s the word?) strange… odd… bizarre… outlandish… weird… extraordinary… peculiar… surprising… funny… startling… astonishing… astounding… shocking… incredible… amazing… (whatever) messages that TPS spews out that one can only scratch every part of the body,⁹ in hopes that understanding will come – or at least, swift  and painless death.

            Where else can you hear pages like these but in the EBL Hall?

            “Shentury Tuna … paging Shentury Tuna, please proceed to the lobby right now.”

            “Uh … (2 seconds) calling the uh … (2 seconds) at-ten-shun of uh … (2 seconds) An-to-neth A-ya-ton (10 seconds), An-to-neth A-ya-ton (10 seconds). You are uh … (2 seconds) requested to proceed to the uh … (2 seconds) lobby A-S-A-P (10 seconds).”¹⁰

            “Calling the attention of Birheng Maria, baba na ‘mo. Pagdali. Mangaon na ‘ta.”¹¹

            “Paging Mabalahibong Bakulaw … Mabalahibong Bakulaw, please proceed to the lobby right now … (garbled) … (garbled) … libreng tuli.” ¹²

Footnotes:

¹ All pages or messages here are printed according to how the author heard and interpreted them. Verifying the clarity and authenticity of these pages are up to the readers. In Filipino, “Kung ayaw niyong maniwala, eh di ‘wag. Subukan mo kayang tumira sa dorm ng isang semester nang makita mong hinahanap mo.”

² Meaning “quickly” or “now”

³ The correct time in UP Min. is almost non-existent.  There are different time zones for the EBL Hall, the ILC Building, the Canteen, the Administration Building, the CSM Building, the Guardhouse, Room A40, etc. etc. etc.

⁴ Whoopi Goldberg: Normal is in the eye of the beholder.

⁵ Rare, as in G-O-O-D---L-U-C-K---S-A---‘-Y-O!

⁶ Don’t correct me. I know ‘itsh wrongramers.’

⁷ Awa ni Lord, may phone na sa dorm.

⁸ Baka is the Filipino term for cow.  Okay, okay.  He actually means BACA – BA Communications Arts – but you have to admit, it’s still weird being addressed as Erik of BACA.

⁹ … especially the groin area

¹⁰ By the time Antonette Ayaton finishes hearing the page, she has already graduated from Architecture.

¹¹ Your guess is as good as mine.

¹² Author’s all time favorite page, but of course, she doesn’t answer to the said description.

The Stench from the Old House

(mappings 3)

Lysette Maurice R. Narshall

01-61644

Behind the tall red gate was an old house and a couple of blue trucks parked in the garage. A don't-block-the-drive-way sign in blue pain on white wood was hanging by the gate. The people passing by the gate could not help but smell the stinky that one could not help but vomit.

I remember walking pass by the open gates before reaching the kanto of Purok Dos in Ponciano Street. I saw small kids running around the garage without slippers on and a small boy even crawled under a six-wheeler truck when the cemented floor was carpeted with grease. The source of the smell remained unknown to the residents of Purok Dos not until they were forced to pass a former complain to the Baranggay Council.

The residents wake up to the awful smell that filled the mornings with screams of complaint. The owner of the three-storey boarding house in Purok Dos which was only a lot away from the old house, Mr. Hector Takahashi, remembers the stench filling every household during their celebration of New Year's Eve of 2001. He shares that they had to sacrifice the celebration because of the smell. Instead of an intimate family celebration inside the house, his family was forced to spend the night in the street with the other residents because the foul smell was suffocating. To avoid spoiling the spirit of celebration of the coming year, loud music filled the street and they danced the night away. Laughter took up their time from the thought of the awful smell.

But they did not let it pass, so as not to spoil the coming events. They were determined to call the attention of the Baranggay officials.

“Baho kaayo. Murag pan-os nga kan-on na nakulob ug isa ka simana.” commented by Mrs. Yap

(It stinks. It was like spoiled rice untouches for a week)

“Grabe kaayo, makalipong ang kabaho!” added Mrs. Perez

(The smell gives me a headache)

According to Donna Narshall, more than calling the attention of the owner of the house about the trouble the smell was causing them and the inconvenience of the lack of parking area because of the trucks, she was more concerned with the health of the children living in a small room in the garage of that old house. She saw the kids playing around the trucks and inhaling the awful smell each time they breath.

“If the smell was affecting us, the residents of the houses surrounding the lot, the immediate victims of such smell would be these kids.” shares Mrs. Narshall

Through the initiative of Mr. Marlo Yap, who signed as the principal complainant, a number of signatures were obtained to petition the owner of the house to come to a meeting with the other residents to give due explanation about the said problem.

According to the investigatory report submitted to the Baraggay Captain by the council members who went to check the place, the foul smell was caused by the raw materials for rubber making which the cargo trucks contain. However, the owner denied the accusation that the process of rubber making was done within the premises. He apologized for the grease that carpeted the sidewalk and was willing to clean up the mess at the shortest possible time.

Baranggay Captain Pablito Villanueva of Purok Dos baranggay 34-D sent a letter to the owner of the house reprimanding him of his violation of the law that prohibits the parking of big trucks along the National road and near residential areas. This was to prevent grease from these trucks from spreading on the sidewalks where people step on it.

Grease contains toxic chemicals that are harmful to the health especially of kids who are exposed to such and is also harmful to the environment.

Aside from the action that the baranggay council has taken to solve the problem, the City Environment Organization (CENRO) led by Engr. Marivic Reyes had imposed that the oil and lubricants on the sidewalk be cleaned up as soon as possible. This was to ensure the safety of the people and avoid the spread of pollution. CENRO had also prohibited the washing and overnight parking of cargo trucks along the National road.

The owner requested to remain anonymous to protect the business name but promised to settle the problem.

After a month when I came to see the children playing at the old house in the corner of Purok Dos, the stench from the old house was gone and the sidewalk was paved and cleaned up. Although there were still trucks, these were parked within the premisses of the old house.

And as for the children who lived in the garage, the owner had a small room with proper ventilation made for them, upon the request of the baraggay council to ensure the health and growth of the kids.

Brecil M. Kempis                                                                              September 5, 2004

4 BA English                                                                                      CW 140-141

Kinse Minutos Kauban si Aaron

            “Tag-singko lang. Sige na. Ako kay dili makaabot si Wild sa kinatumyan, na.” Sulti ni Aaron Duhaylungsod sa iyang usa ka brod nga taas pod og buhok nga sama niya. Ang nakalahi lang karon kay gitago sa color blue nga bonnet ang iyang taas nga balud-balod ug walay panudlay nga buhok. Atua sila sa kilid sa atrium uban sa mga daghang gatapok nga mga estudyante para sa wall climbing contest. Kauban pod nila ang pipila nga ilang mga igsoon sa Latagaw-Lamdag Society sa pagtan-aw.

Apan midili ang iyang brod sa pagpusta. “Dili ko, mapildi lang ko.” Tulo na ka-estudyante ang milabay nga nagpursige ug naningkamot nga magunitan ang katapusang bato nga tua mahimutang sa kinatumyan sa dingding. “Galisod gani siya og abot o” padayon sa pagsulti sa iyang brod dala tudlo kay RJ Malcampo, usa ka estudyante, nga galisod og saka sa wall. Dagko na kaayo ang singot ni RJ pero padayon gihapon siya sa pagsulay sa pag-abot apan sa wala pa siya makatunga, nahulog na siya.

“Si RJ man na. Lahi man si Wild. Sige na o kay magsugod na si Wild o.” Mikuha na og singko pesos sa iyang bulsa si Aaron ug gidula-dulaan sa iyang palad. Midili gihapon iyang brod. “Grabe pod. Sige na. Singko lang bitaw.”

“Dili lagi ko. Sayang kaayo akong singko, wala na raba koy kwarta.”

“Sus, wala kay salig sa imong brod?”

Mikatawa lang ang iyang brod.

Sa pagsugod ni Wild og saka, mura lang og hangin nga dali milabay ang      iyang “bahala ka” nga tubag sa iyang gihanggat og pustaanay nga brod tungod sa natabunan kini sa kalanog sa kantiyaw sa iyang mga brod kay Wild. Iya dayon  gibalik sa pagsulod ang iyang singko pesos sa bulsa sa iyang mikupas nga agi sa pirmi nga paglaba nga pantalon ug milabaw na dayon iyang tingog sa pagkantiyaw kay Wild nga mura na og baki nga gipilit sa dingding sa pagpaningkamot nga dili mahulog.

“Please lang po, makinig na po tayo kasi awarding of prizes na po.” Ang balik-balik nga pag-announce ni Zea kay ang tanang tao sa atrium kay tua na ang atensiyon sa kay Wild nga nagsaka kay nakaabot si Wild sa tunga-tunga, siya pa lang ang kinaunahan nga nakaabot didto. Apan murag dagko kaayo nga atuli ang misampong sa dalunggan sa mga tao labi na sa dalunggan ni Aaron. Wala man lang gani siya misiplat sa maskin asa na direksiyon, didto lang gyud kay Wild.

“Tan-awa, hapit na maabot ni Wild ang tumoy. Daog unta ka. Wala gyud kay salig sa atong brod.” Balik niya og pangumbinsi sa iyang brod. “O, singko. Sige na.”

“Ha? Unya na.” Tubag sa iyang brod.

“Bahala ka. Singko na gyud na… ”

Apan wala na naminaw iyang brod kay tua na murag gilansang ang iyang mga mata kay Wild, wala jud namilok. Nagkatawa lang si Aaron. Dayon, adunay milabay sa iyang atubangan nga mas dakong tawo pa niya nga misampong sa iyang pagtan-aw kay Wild.

“Oist, pahawa ba.” wakli ni Aaron sa kamot ni Michael, katong milabay sa iyang atubangan, nga mihapak sa iyang abaga. Apan wala naminaw si Michael.

“Gisiko baya nimo akong kilay kagahapon ah.” Dala tudlo s iyang agtang na natabunan og bonnet.

            “Sorry gud. Wala man to natuyo.”

            “Pahawa na ba.” dala hapak sa abaga pod ni Michael. Nagkinataw-anay dayon sila.

Mibalik siya sa pagtan-aw kay Wild. “Kana Wild.” Siyagit niya kay Wild na dagko na gyud kaayo ang singot. Apan wala maabti og pila ka minuto mibuhi si Wild. “Yawa, kapoy kaayo.” Singgit ni Wild sa iyang pagnaog. Pula kaayo si Wild og agtang ug ugat kay klaro na kaayo.

“Sus, gamay na lang unta to.” Storya ni Aaron kay Wild.

“Maayo gani wala ko midayon, pildi unta ko..” kantiyaw kay Aaron sa iyang brod. “Wala daw salig na..” katawa niini. Mikatawa pod si Aaron ug siya misulti, ”Maayo na lang gani.”

He joined our group one Tuesday night in our weekly Bible Study. He had joined us before so we weren’t surprised with his presence. We gathered outside the dormitory, at the space where the SMART phone booth is located. We sat beside each other on the tiled floor. He was the only guy in the group. Perhaps he wasn’t comfortable sitting among the ladies so he sat at the farthest corner. One could easily notice him because of his towering height, bulky body and the bright red shirt that he wore. His back was slouched as usual. I never saw him walking or sitting with a straight back. I even thought that he has a minor case of stroke because when he walks, it is as if he had just gotten out from an operation.

Unfortunately, I was the one seated beside him. I had no choice but to talk to him and make him feel welcome in the group. After all, we were attending a Bible Study. Everyone should feel at ease in God’s presence.

“Kumain ka na ba?” I finally had the guts to ask him. This guy doesn’t talk much. One has to do the initiative to begin a conversation with him. But I really found it strange because he loved to talk to himself. There were times when I saw him mumbling words to himself while watching TV at the EBL lobby.

“Bakit, mukha ba akong hindi kumain?” he replied while fluttering his eyelids which made him looked seemingly innocent.

His fluttering eyelids didn’t bother me at all because he always does that. Perhaps was already a habit that he developed together with his talent of talking to himself. It was his answer that surprised me. I was never used in receiving rude replies from people. I didn’t know if my question offended him. I was just asking him if he had already eaten or not because the first time he joined the Bible Study, he excused himself in the middle of our discussion. He told us that he needed to eat because his stomach was churning in hunger. I was just making sure that he was alright that time.

I tried my best not to be disturbed by his reply and at the same time not be disturbed by his sour smell. I was pretended to hold my Bible in such a way that it covered my face. Lord forgive me, that was what I kept on thinking at that time. When I looked at my companions, they gave me a suppressed smile. They were also looking at the guy, perhaps observing what other weird things he might do.

“Unsa imo ika-share about sa passage?” asked Ate Vangie, our leader. She was throwing the question to the guy with the red shirt.

“Ang ngalan gayod sa Ginoo kay grabe ka gamhanan. Kadto lamang hapit madisgrasya ang jeep na kanako gisakyan, mi-ingon lang ko na IN JESUS NAME! Nawala andg kanako kahadlok ug salamat sa Dios kay walay na-unsa sa mga pasahero,” he said with a heavy Surigaonon accent. He spoke so slowly that one would seem to suspend his/her breathing. His huge built is really in contrast to his slow manner of moving and speaking.

In the middle of our discussion, he went out from the group without excusing himself. I thought he would go to the canteen but he went inside the lobby, sat on the sofa and watched TV. Me and my companions looked at each other and some were even raising their eyebrows. Even our leader was disturbed and she looked through the glass panels. We saw him seriously watching TV. We got off our attention from the guy and concentrated on what were discussing. But later on, we were surprised when he returned to the group. I don’t know if he is just really indifferent because he did the going-to-the-lobby-and-watch-TV twice and then returned to the group when it was time for advertisements.

When the Bible study was about to end we never let him escape. When he was about to stood again, our leader requested him to lead the closing prayer. He was not able to refuse the request and he did the closing prayer. In fairness, his prayer was quite long. It was even made longer because he was saying it so slowly. After he did the prayer, he silently made his exit and went inside the lobby without another word.

Charisse Mae T. Ampo

A Day in the Life of an Artista look-alike

As a Peer Counselor

By: Lysette Maurice R. Narshall

01-61644

            It did not bother me.

            Not as much as I was bothered by how she reacted to the issues about us. She was a co-peer counselor and we’ve been through a lot of sessions with our group that has created a special bond between us that I thought was strong enough to hold us together despite everything that came up.

            Maybe we were just too different. Maybe because we always had a different view about things or maybe it was the tension between our courses. The BA English people always had that elitist sensibility especially when it comes to dealing with people from my course.

            We used to laugh about the whole thing. We would even joke around when people tease us about our relationship. However, things had been different when she heard from a friend that her ex-boyfriend had commented.

            “Ipagpalit ba ako sa tibo?! Wala naba siyang makitang papatol sa kanya?” He said in a mocking tone according to the friend who heard it.

            I do not know why it affected her that much. The issue about our so-called relationship has been the buzz around school and in an instant, it made a change in the way she dealt with me.

            For years that I had been in the university, I have earned the criticisms of people who did not like me by the way I was talking and hanging around with students I barely knew but I was hoping to make friends with or the issue about my gender or simply by the way I look or even smile. They were attacking almost everything about me and I even heard them say that I looked like I just got out of a toothpaste poster and looked so “Happy.”

            But it did not stop me from making friends and I was glad I met a few including her not until I remembered about the way she left me on the bench that day in the middle of our talk.

            We were sitting at the bench in the Atrium with our other co-peer counselors. It was the second bench from outside the window of C1 of the Admin building. I was sitting on the bench, she was sitting a few inches from me, and we were facing a girl who was sitting in Indian position on top of the table, her slim fingers ran through her long black hair and pulling it back into a ponytail. Then she was flipping her bangs, clipping it at the back of her ears. She was straightening her pink blouse, dusting off the hem of her pants and was staring back at us.

                “Do you know that it’s rude to stare?!”

            Then we were all laughing. I said she was too conscious about how she looked because she had a boyfriend to please. And what did I get but a mocking reaction.

            “Inggit ka lang kase hindi ka trip ng boys.” The next thing I knew I was flashing my famous pang-artista smile. I turned to a co-peer counselor who was lying at the bench across us. Both hands were stretching at the back of her head like a soft pillow that was making her too comfortable to sleep than listen to the girl beside me who was telling us how it had been hard for her to get over her ex-boyfriend. I was calling her attention so that we could get on with the conversation but instead she turned her back at us and was lying down sideways.

“tsk. . .tsk. . .tsk. .” Was this how friends act, I thought to myself.

When I turned to the girl beside me and I saw her staring at him while he was playing chess with his fraternity brother in the table at the smoking area of the Atrium. She was starting to cry. I knew the sight of him was making it hard for her even to start forgetting about him and the two years that they had been together. I leaned closer and wrapped my left arm around her while my other hand patted her right hand that was holding a hanky. I was about to tell her to just cry when the girl sitting on top of the table said in a low monotonous tone.

“Ano ba ang problema?”

She was shaking her head and was denying the problem that I knew almost half of the university population knew about.

“Cge lang i-iyak mo lang yan.” I said interrupting what the girl in pink was about to say.

I was looking up the sky, saw the gray clouds moving fast, and felt the wafting of the cold wind against my skin giving me goosebumps. I knew it was going to rain later that day but I was not bothered. I was staying at the dorm and it was only a few meters walk from where we were sitting. I enjoyed the sight of students running around looking for a place to shelter them from the rain while waiting for the jeepney to take them to Mintal.

“Wag muna mag-ulan kay madumihan ako may date pa biya ako” the girl in pink said in a worried tone.

I was giggling at her statement. She was so worried about how she would look later when she meets up with her boyfriend, unconsciously making the girl beside me uncomfortable because she was reminded of how she was when her boyfriend would meet her after class. I thought this girl was so vain; she was so not like me. In fact, we were total opposites.

“Alam mo, sometimes you just have to let go of people because holding on to them would just make things harder and make the situation worse.”

“Mahirap man kase ate kase madami man akong questions na hindi niya binigyan ng sagot kase ayaw niya lang.” She was crying while uttering the words.

“Kase siguro hindi na dapat pang malaman ang sagot.”

From across the atrium came a loud voice that halted the conversation, she identified her classmate while they were motioning to enter the building.

“Hoy Vivian, tama na imong igat-igat dira mag klase na ta!”

Then I saw her flash a smile while throwing a glance at her ex-boyfriend waiting for his reaction. Failing to witness a make-her-feel-good response from him, she buried her head on her hands and continued crying.

“Pero dapat man niya malaman, diba? Kahirap gud mag let go ng person na love mo lalo na pag hindi mo alam kung bakit” I interrupted thinking I just had to say it because that was she wanted to say but was too weak to speak.

“Eh bakit mo pipilitin ang isang tao na sagutin ang mga tanong mo para marinig mo yung gusto mong marinig having that hopeful heart na hindi yun ang isasagot niya but a sigh of regret for leaving you.” She said in a ridicule of how she felt.

She was nodding in agreement, to what she said but maybe, I was too stubborn to accept my defeat in the conversation I answered back.

“Kaysa naman hayaan niyang mahirapan ang taong ‘to na ifigure out kung bakit sila natapos. Ka selfish naman niya. Selfish gyud.”

“Buti pa kayo ‘te. Buti ka pa kase love ka talaga niya”

Then she was crying and we were left silent not knowing what to say. The girl in pink left the table and I was patting her back. For a moment I felt her heartbeat thumping harder each time, it was screaming his name but the silence the sheltered us was too loud to even make him hear her from across the Atrium.

A familiar face wearing a blue organizational shirt came walking towards us and said.

“Tinu-od gyud diay na kamo na?! Hilak hilak naman lagi na.”

I was resisting answering back. I was keeping my silence.

“Ngano gipahilak man na nimo? Grabe pud ka uy, gi-bulagan na gani sa isa, pahilakon pa gyud nimo!?” she said while giggling.

But the girl beside me was no longer able to contain her feelings about what she just heard, she was still crying when she stood up, took her bag and was walking briskly inside the Admin building.

Duahylungsod, JC

One Rainy Night

I was at the EBL Dormitory waiting for my board mate who was still having her class. The rain was pouring very hard outside and I was starting to worry about getting a ride going to the boarding house which was still a 10/15-minute walk from the Dorm. Usually when it rains, the habal-habal drivers charge us more than what was the expected fare. From four pesos each passenger to five. But most of the times, they would not accept passengers going to Sitio Basak until the pathetic students have no choice but to pay fifteen pesos.

Two months ago, the fare was just three pesos for each passenger if that passenger had a companion, and five pesos for those who were alone, and thatœ if that student is going to the Administation Building or to the EBL Dormitory. Going to the CSM College/Kanluran, from Sitio Basak was ten pesos. If one starts from Mintal, going to the EBL Dormitory or to the Administration Building is ten pesos, while it is fifteen pesos if one is headed to the CSM Building/Kanluran. But since the oil companies here in the Philippines raised their prices, the habal-habal drivers also decided to have a price increase. The funny thing about these prices was that they apply for the faculty and students of UP Mindanao. The residents had a certain kind of immunity for these kind of increases.

The University said that they were going to do something about it, but nothing happened. Their main solution was to encourage students and the non-teaching and teaching staff to ride the four jeepneys that were circulating around the campus. There was a rumor that the habal-habals will be banned, and more jeepneys would be circulating in the premises of the campus. But the Skyscraperœ Association of UP Mindanao (the habal-habal driverœ association – they even used the name of UP) agreed to negotiate with the University Student Council. And the end product of their negotiation was that, The Skyscraperœ Association was legitimized, and nothing more that could benefit the students.

The sad fact about these negotiations was that the students were thinking about the welfare of the families of the habal-habal drivers: it was their only source of income and they also had to feed their families and send their children to school, and more of those heart-softening scenarios that the students could think of if the habal-habal drivers would be banned from entering the school. I mean, we are from UP and we are supposed to serve the people, even habal-habal drivers. On the other hand, the habal-habal drivers were seeing the students of UP Mindanao as children of those people who did not have to worry about earning money to send their children to school and to provide for their needs. They see the students as walking peso signs.

In going to UP Mindanao, one has two choices in commuting: the habal-habal, which is a motorcycle turned into an income generating vehicle, and the jeepney. The bus of the University used to be a very helpful vehicle, but since its operation was stopped, it was nothing more than just a useless edifice built to mock the students who were stranded because of the rain. And since the road in Sitio Baska was under construction, and the jeepney cannot pass in Sitio Basak, the students whose boarding houses were located at the Sitio were so fortunate to have the habal-habal drivers as their knights in shining armor.

My board mateœ class was over so we went outside to go to the habal-habal terminal. While we were waiting for a timing to ask the driver if anyone of them were intersected to extend their services to two students who were headed to Sitio Basak, we sat on the benches of one of the stores located just beside the terminal along with the other stranded students. And as the embodiment of mockery as it was designed, the bus stopped before us, carrying the students who were so lucky to board the vehicle. ¨Ban, sakay ta,¨ my board mate told me.¨Basig nakalimot ka na dili ka-agi ang bus didto sa ato karon,¨ I answered referring to the unfinished construction of the road in Sitio Basak.

¨Pisti!¨ she muttered as all of those who were waiting with us at the store boarded the bus.

Of course they would not risk going to Silva under this rain for only five pesos. With this in mind, I told my board mate to go along with the upper class student. With the three of us, the driver could earn twelve pesos so they would at least be contented with it.

¨Sabay na lang ta. Sa may Silva man pud mi,¨ I told him.

The upper class student turned to me and my board mate and asked us, ¨Pwede ba na sila i-reklamo? Papresyo kaayo!¨.

¨Bitaw, para matagam na sila!¨ my baord mate answered.

¨Ambot lang,¨ I added.

The driver was already waiting for us and the upper class student was the one to first board the motorcycle. Then the driver said ¨Tag singko-singko akong kuha sa inyo ha,¨ which was more of just informing us rather than a request.

¨Ngano man Nong?¨ the upper class student asked the driver.

¨Dangog man gud ang dalan,¨ he answered matter-of-factly.

So we rode the habal-habal and to make his reason of why he was charging us five pesos each more convincing, he swerved every now and then and made his motorcycle run very slow. I was not really convinced at all. I mean, I had been riding the habal-habal for almost four years already, in diferent weather, with diferent textures of the road, and with more than three passengers at a time, and with the same speed of the motorcycle – faster than his motorcycle – but it was not at all reason enough to charge us more. He could have just told us blatantly that, ¨Panahon na man gud nako manikas day mao singko ako kuhaon sa inyo,¨ and it would not make any diference.

After almost fifteen minute of his drama, we finally reached our destination. I thought every thing was over and it was another night for a habal-habal driver to triumph against the supposedly intelligent students of UP Mindanao. And then the upper class man gave the driver a fifty-peso bill. With this the driver was maddened because why the hell the upper class student did not tell him earlier that he had a fifty-peso bill to pay him.

¨Nganong wala man ka nag-ingon daan na singkwenta diay na imong kwarta. Napakambyuan unta nato na ganiha na naay tindahan. Kabalo ka an walaý tindahan diri wala ka ang-ingon daan,¨ the driver grumbled.

¨Siyaro wala kay kambyo nong na gabi-i na man,¨ the upper class student answered.

¨Kabalo ka na hapon lang ko namasada!¨ the driver answered raising his voice. ¨Diri na alng nako kuhaon tanan na bayad ninyong tulo, ikaw na lang paningil nila,¨ the driver continued.

¨Dili man mi mag-kaila ana nila Nong. Ako pa gyud imong papangitaon,¨ the upper class student answered back.

¨Unya unsaon man nako ni?!¨ the driver was almost roaring now. I had twenty pesos with me and I could actually pay for the three of us. But it seemed that paying him would not do any good in the situation.

¨Estudyante man unta ka, dili ka mag huna-huna. Pangitaon na lang taka ugma. Didto na pagbayad!¨ as if he was scolding an elementary kid.

The upper class student started walking towards the gate of the apartment that he was staying. I thought everything was over, but the driver kept on mumbling about the upper class man being a student and not having any common sense.

¨Kabalong karon lang kong hapon migawas,¨ he kept on repeating.

His voice was still loud enough for the upper class student to hear and he was answering back the driver. And the driver was now shouting towards the upper class student, ¨Estudyante ka unta, wla kay batasan!¨

¨Magtarong lang day ka nong storyahon man pud taka ug tarong. Manikas na gani mo sa presyo, maningka pa gyud mo!¨ the student answered back and disappeared in to the dark area of the apartment.

The driver was still shouting towards him. ¨Banaty ka lang makit-an ka nako ugma! Ila-ilahon taka!¨

I thought everything was over when the upper class student went marching back towards the three of us. My board mate and I stayed with the habal-habal driver because he did not give us our change yet. The driver stumped his foot on the clutch and the went down his motorcycle.

I was starting to think of butting in their heated conversation. I thought they were going to fight. But the upper class student just went to the motorcycle and inspected the ID of the driver.

¨Salamat kay gitagaan ko nimo ug idea nong,¨ he told the driver with a sarcastic smile.

¨Sige tan-awa na,¨ the driver told him and was not moved at all.

The upper class student went back to his apartment and the driver grumbled under his breath about his being a taga-UP is a waste because he doesn't have any brains and any manners.

The driver gave us our change and then boarded his motorcycle and sped off. My board mate and I went inside our boarding house.

¨Pasalamat jud ko na gibuhat to niya. Maayo nang isumbong na sila para matagam!¨ my board mate commented breaking the awkward silence.

I remained silent and was thinking about my very first ride going to UP Mindanao back when I was still in first year. The driver charged me with twenty pesos that time. I could still remember his face and after that incident, I was able to ride on his motorcycle for a number of times. And every time I do, he would always have that irritating smile plastered on his face. As if he was relishing the moment he had extorted an extra ten pesos from me. I was wondering if an extra peso would actually make some one that happy, or a five peso could almost send two people in to a brawl. I was thinking if the students were just really being selfich or if the habal-habal drivers were just plain mandurugas.

Will the situation involving the students and the habal-habal drivers here in my school be different if it was not the University of the Philippines in Mindanao?

One thing is for sure, the UPCAT doesn't mean a thing to the habal-habal drivers of the University of the Philippines in Mindanao.