Redoble Family

Every morning i drive my family to cebu city. It’s  a daily weekday forty five minute drive with three stops to my final destination, my workplace. It’s an easy drive though because the traffic flow is relatively light, except when we approach the foot of mactan bridge where three lanes of different road converges into a single narrow lane at the right side of the bridge. But the little sacrifice is nothing compared to the reward at the peak. On top of the bridge you see the water below that reflects the scenic beauty of the skyline of the two cities across the mactan strait. And driving down to the opposite side watching the cool mountain ranges studded with white clouds is a treat to everyone’s eyes and soul. We normally slows down, as some other drivers do, to enjoy Cebu’s beauty to the fullest.

Today is unusually silent considering that my eight year old girl and my sophomore son is sitting side by side at the back-seat. All I could hear is the power of the diesel engine propelling the blue crosswind we are riding. Everyone is minding our own business, unmindful even of the irritating squeaking of metals when the five year old car hits potholes of the poorly maintained asphalt paved road . I could see my little girl through the rearview mirror enjoying her artwork on her lap. Her brother sits back, with heads up, and eyes closed to catch on his sleep having spent most of his night solving crimes with CSI-New York agents on TV. My former girlfriend, their mother, and my wife straps herself deeply on her seat, thinking deeply too. Vehicles are moving from all directions and the dancing traffic enforcer kicks and waves his hands at the middle of the road directing every driver to different directions to untangle the chaotic intersection caused by an accident which happened earlier.

As I waited for the red light to turn green a trisikad crosses our path. Sweat is all over the driver’s face, hair’s wet, and his kamesita sags heavily down holding the water that flows from his body, He moves up and down, limping left and right pedalling his trisikad to bring his passengers go pass the bigger vehicles towering them. And he’s doing it with passion wearing maybe his best smile, talking to his passengers who are all on him eagerly listening to his voice overwhelmed by the car engines and horns around them. And they all break into laughter. I could hear their hilarious voices going through the windshield. Contrary to the silence within our car, in their tiny vehicle outside is fiesta mood. It could be that he was cracking a joke about an acquitted mayor who lost in the previous election due to the lamppost scandal. Maybe they are talking about  the funny Hatton interview before he was floored by Manny thrice which was dubbed in bisaya. It’s difficult to figure out how they all look so happy and contended in a relatively uncomfortable cramped position inside a one square meter vehicle powered only by the tiny muscles and bones of the driver. Whatever they are talking, to me they have started their day celebrating life as it should be.

Then I shouted with my mouth wide open and with an intensity that irritates my throat, ” Hesus Maresep!” They all bend forward with eyes wide open almost popping out of their sockets and in unison my passengers asked,” why? naunsa? what man?…”

“Wala lang!” was my reply. “Amaw man ka tay!”, was my son’s comment.

Who cares,  as long as it changes the atmosphere inside the airconditioned car to fiesta mood like the one in the trisikad I see.

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