“Vision of the Blind”by Dj Prestousa

Only few of us can see.

I hope the rain will come today. “Tulad ng ibong malaya…” the ageless voice of my grandmother is very warm even if her heart right now feels the coldness of the grandfather.

Inside of that coffin in front of us, I hope my grandfather will sing too like what they usually do every day – to have a duet. My grandfather died the day before yesterday’s yesterday. He was a good singer, so is me. For a while, the conversation of my grandparents’ friends had stopped to listen to my grandmother’s magnificent voice. “Tulad ng langit na kay sarap marating…”

That girl with a straw hat cannot see. She is blind like that man with a cigarette stick on his lips. The girl with braided hair has the same vision like that smoking man. The three, the other four, and the other five has the same vision like my grandmother which has also have the same vision like that woman with straw hat, that man with smoke on his mouth, and that girl with the braided hair – they are all blind like almost of the people in this squatter area. They are all blind and have the same vision – darkness.

These grandparents’ friends are so kind. They sacrificed their time. Instead of going to Manila to beg money by singing, they come here and keen with us. Sad faces, all I can see. Even some are smiling while listening to my grandmother who is singing, I know they are sad because a great friend of them died.

Our house was just constructed informally and carelessly with light materials which came from garbage, junkshops and everywhere. Our house is located in the middle of this isolated area. One time, while my grandfather is teaching me on how to play his guitar, I said “Papa, I promise, that someday we will also live in mansion like where those rich people sleep.” He just laughed and rubbed my hair. I can still remember the sweetness of his smile.

“Gino, it’s alright. Wherever your grandpa is, he is fine,” said the girl with the braided hair. My grandma spoke: “death is not the end, but the beginning of everlasting life.” The guy with smoke smiled and said: “He is with God now. He is resting in His arms.” They comfort me, but it makes me cry deeper and deeper.

“For you to stop crying, oh my dear,” the woman with hat said, “we, all of us, will sing for you a very warm song.” And all of them sang. How amazing it was! I had stopped crying. I smiled and I can almost imagine that my grandfather is with them. They are such good in singing. That’s why no one can’t give them some coins. No one cannot give to my grandfather when he was still alive. He used to be a singer in front of Quiapo church.

“Lito, he is a very kind guy. I can still remember back in our days… how he courted me so sweetly, so lovely,” my grandmother’s voice is shaking. “We are

both blind, but we saw what the real meaning of love is: it is the unconditional love of Christ.

“I am so thankful for all of you. Thank you for everything you gave for this funeral,” Lola continued. “Lito was such a good husband. He did what he could. Giving all your money to buy this coffin and paying for this funeral service is such a great sacrifice from all of you. I know that my husband did his best to…”

I started to cry again.

He was singing in front of the Quiapo church that day. One lady fortune-teller saw the whole complete scene. She said that he was singing a song about love. Then, a huge guy wearing shades came closer to my grandfather. She thought that this big guy is just going to give some coins to my singing grandfather. Maybe this guy just remembered something lovely and he just want to give some coins. But he didn’t. The huge guy picked up the box. When my grandfather tried to fight for the box of coins… A knife. He was killed by slashing his neck, he fell, and everything went to nothing. My old powerless grandfather was killed by strong huge guy!

Then, the fortune-teller said that guy who killed my grandfather was arrested after the crowed beaten him up; they punched and kicked him after he was trapped by them.

There is no coffee to be served. There is no food to be eaten by all. We are all poor people with lack of having. Money is very important in life but we don’t have it. Money is life. We don’t have money. Therefore, we don’t have life.

“Gino, could you please buy some pandesals at the bakery?” my grandmother is still crying. She gave me the coins and I hugged her. I want her to stop crying. And then I left.

I ran.

The smell of an open canal is awful. It’s wetly rotten in smell; stinky yet unbreathably bearable. I can view the irregular shapes of structured houses.

In the middle of this place, some of people can still smile. Even they don’t have vision; they can see that everyone has hope. Everyone is still hoping that someday, our children will live in a better place. That someday, they will not experience what it is like to live in these recycled woods, plastics and other materials came from the garbage.

Only few of us can see, I thought. Blind people are blind, but they can still see what is happening to those who are getting hurt and becoming victims of poverty. Even if they couldn’t see this isolated place – they can feel it.

Why do rich people exist? If there were no majestic people in this earth, the word poverty would not exist either. It would be a great solution to kill all the rich people; thereafter, there will be no more inequality because all the people in the poverty are equal.

Maybe those riches are the real blind people. They don’t care for us! Rich people can see us on their flat televisions, but they don’t care for us! We can be seen by them; yet, they cannot feel us! All they want is to become happy. Eat, play and buy everything they want and tomorrow they will die. How about us? Starve and work, and work, and work, and still we are in the state of starvation? And because of that, tomorrow, all of us will die with our eyes opened because of hunger?

The sun hurts my skin. It mostly hurts my neck. I wish the rain will come today. Does God can hear me? Oh God please let the sky rain. I will be feeling so great with the coldness of air by the time you make rain for us.

I saw a blind guy singing. This is such a wonderful place. Even this place is not like the place of the riches; yet, they can still have some fun. The children with grease like me are happily playing. The kids are playing taya-tayaan under the noon sun. The sparrows are flying in the sky. They are free. Ow, how much is the happiness if you have freedom from this kind of place!

Yesterday, at the place where the kids playing, they’re some blind people are angry and shouting about something. Policemen are sharply standing beside the familiar guy. He looks very familiar to me, really. Is he a politician? An actor? Maybe both. His face wore a moustache. I saw him so many times by watching television in the afternoon under shed beside the queue of tricycles not so far from our place. He told us that we need to leave this place immediately because this is his property. And the blind people don’t want to leave. Some of them said, mostly the oldies, that this place was given by the wife of a popular dictator.

I stood in front the glass boxes where breads are in. The lady saw me and she stood quickly to ask me. “What do you want to buy, little boy?”

“I want twenty pandesals,” I said stiffly. “How much?”

“Two centavos each. Why are you not smiling? You are Aleng Fe’s grandson, right?” I can smell the freshly baked pandesals she’s putting in the brown paper bag. “I feel so sorry for your grandpa,” she said.

“He is fine in the arms of God,” I just said.

“Hey, I’m gonna put additional five pandesal. Could you please smile now?” She did it and I smiled. I gave forty centavos for twenty pandesals with five more for free. Of course, like what my grandfather taught me, always say thank you. And I said: “Thank you.”

I walk as fast as I can.

I am walking, going back to our house. I cannot wait eat these delicious pandesals with my grandmother and her friends. I will also put an odd on the top of my father’s coffin so his spirit will taste these very delicious pandesals.

Then I saw the place and I mouth lipped: The whole place is on fire.

The people are running! They are running violently.

Crying.

Shouting. Shouting for help!

I can’t believe what I am seeing right now. My heart! It’s palpitating. Fast palpitation! My heart is like a hammer. Beating like a hammer – heavy… fast heavy pounding.

Nervous. Shaking. Nervous. Palpitating.

WHAT IS THIS?! My eyes widened. Oh a fire! FIRE! The fire is so wild. I don’t know, Am I freezed? What is this?! Is this a fire? The whole place is on fire! The sound is a roar of a huge evil. I blinked several times and I remembered my grandmother! My only family! Where is she?!

I screamed: “LOLA!” then I ran! I ran fast!

Palpitating. Nervous. Hands are shaking. Palpitating. Nervous. Shaking! Nervous. Palpitating beating like…

…someone grabbed my arm!

“No!” said the huge guy.

“No!” I said too. “My grandmother is at the middle of that place!”

He grabs me violently biting his lips almost crying.

Cold. Nervous. Wild. Fire. Hot. Burning. Nervous. Palpitating. Beating like…

I can’t fight with his force. He is so strong. I am crying! I am crying hysterically!

“My lola! My lolaaa! Mamaaa…. Mamaa…” I hope my Lola escaped from fire. But where is she? I cannot see her in the crowed crying. Most of them are crying! No! All of them are crying!

“God! Why did you use this fire?!” the girl with tied hair screamed.

“It’s not from God! Satan! Satan! Why did you use this fire?! Satan! Satan! Don’t burn us! Satan! Satan!” a blind girl screamed. “Our faith to God will never change even if you used this fire! Satan! Satan!”

“Don’t! Do not pray to Satan! Cry to God! God! God! Please help us to remove this fire! God! God! Please remove the art of Satan!”

“No! This is not Satan’s! The politician! Satan! Satan! They are the Satans! Politicians! Politician! He is the Satan! Politician! Politician! That politician is a Sataaan!” the other blind girl screamed.

“Don’t pray to politicians! They cannot hear us! To God, let’s pray! God! God! Only God can hear us!”

Irregular moves, it is only what I can see to their bodies. I am crying. They are crying. My hands are cold. My feet are shaking and cold. I don’t know what to do, so they are. They are also in terrible shock.

Nervous. Shaking. Palpitating. Burning. Satan!

They are dying. I can hear the screams far from here. I can hear the screams in that fire! They are so many blinds in that place and I hope they could escape. My grandmother cannot see too… and I want her to be excluded from…

…deeeathsss!

“That politician! He is an instrument of Satan!

“Satan! He is Satan! All politicians are instruments of Satan!”

“No! Someday will come! God will use an instrument! A politician as an instrument of God!”

The two blind girls are violently screaming at each other! There are still no firemen to stop the fire!

Palpitating. Screaming. Nervous. Shaking. Burning. Satan. Instrument. Politician. Satan.

I hope that my grandmother is safe. I hope she is! I hope that my grandmother is not one of the deaths! I want to escape from this grip; I am going to my grandmother’s place to save her but I can’t. I am not strong enough.

Suddenly, the shouting people stopped.

All I can hear are willow-wide cries like mine. I hope the rain will come today!

The blind people are still sobbing and sniffing. I watched them wiping the continuous falls of their tears.

All of them kneeled.

All of the blind people kneeled in front of the burning place. They hold their hands together. They are in semi-circled formation. The shouting begins.

They shouted random prayers. They are crying to God. They are screaming and I can see how tight they hold each other’s hands. I can see their stretched faces and pleading for mercy of God.

Crying continued.

Shouting never stops.

Pleading to God.

I watched the place. The wind rushed violently. The sky is darkening. There is a formation of huge dark circular clouds.

The thunder boomed! It gives me goosebumps in every strike. It shocks me in every boom.

Palpitating. Screaming. Nervous. Shaking. Burning. Praying to God – the only blind people can do to see the hope of light!

The sky started to cry. But no, this is not an ordinary rain. It’s like a huge drop of water crashing the place. There is a small wave came unto my feet. The wind is so fast. The rain is like a bath. Even the pandesals that I bought are now wet, so are the ragged people who are crying. I can no longer see the drops of the tears on their faces.

The guy is still holding me. Sobbing, he is almost hugging me. We can feel the same pain. All of us have the same pain. The blind people who are kneeling in semi-circled position goes silent. They sing a song. They sing the song “Himig ng Pag-ibig” my grandmother’s favorite. How great they are. Angelic voices in front of the tragedy. Shaky voices are from some. Standing voices from most of the blind oldies. Toddlers murmur following the hymn. After few verses of the songs had ended, all of them suddenly quickly fall their faces on the ground like there were not in themselves.

The fire is gone but the burning smell is not.

Something flew towards my face. It was a hat made by straw brought by wind. It was burnt.

“LOLA! LOLA! LOLA!!!” I cry wildly again! Finally, I escape from the man’s grip. I am like a sparrow. A bird with a freedom to fly to go to where I want. Even you are free you can still feel the pain. Not all who have freedom are exempted from any pain. I ran fast as I can.

I can smell the bad smell of the wind. The houses are all burned. I see bodies lying on the ground. No clothes. Their skins are burned. Dark. Lifeless. I search. Why am I searching for my grandmother on the ground? No she isn’t dead! I continue searching.

I see the burned flesh of these bodies. The smell is the most awful that I’ve ever smelled. Their hair is already gone and the skulls of their heads are shown. Some of them are broken so I am able to see crushed burned brains. The internal organs are also visible in some of them.

I saw the blind guy who had been singing when I gone to the bakery. He is on the ground. No life. His shades were removed from his face. His burnt eyes pop out. I ran faster and faster.

Fire. Palpitating. Screaming. Nervous. Shaking. Burning. Satan. Fire. Pray. Rain.

The cold wind hits my face as I ran. Every nerve in my body was tensed. Tears from my eyes are still falling. My heart beats faster and faster and faster.

And then I see something…

The coffin of my grandfather is like charcoal; a burned body hugging it.

They are my grandparents.

I walk slowly towards it. There is no expression on my face. I hope all of the people in this nation will know this tragedy. But, it is impossible because…

Only few of us can see…

I sit beside my grandparents and I eat the pandesal.

I laughed, after my grandfather who inside of his coffin, had chuckled.