HIDDEN

We took what seemed to be an endless jeepney ride to Sampaloc. We were coming from Marikina. It was night time already and we were supposed to be in the “truck delivery station before 11 pm.”

My mother asked a favor from a neighbor in Ilocos Norte to allow me and my sister to hitchhike as they deliver grocery items in the province. She said he can drop us off at my Uncle’s house which is just along the national highway. 

I guess we were asked by the driver to come so late at night, like a few minutes before he pulls-out of the company garage, so no officers will be around anymore as we climb on top of it. It really felt like they were smuggling us in, since we were told to hurry climbing. 

I have vague memories of how the truck looked-like but all I can remember was, we climbed on top of boxes covered by a thick tarpaulin. On the top most of the pile, there was an opening like a roof entrance.

The small space was wide enough for me and my older sister Malou to sit but not deep enough for us to be able to lie in. It was like a mini-cave lined by the cargo boxes. The neatly lined sealed products behind us became our back support. The tarpaulin cover isn’t high enough for us to stand or stretch our arms upwards. It was just inches high from our heads. 

We have to give our travel bag to the driver because it won’t fit in our little hole. I really didn’t know what to expect. Usually, our parents would send us to ride the bus on our own to Ilocos Norte but this time, we’re part of the delivery packages to be transported. 

Climbing was a challenge. I was not tall enough to reach the first step of the steel ladder and my father needed to carry me so I could climb. The last step was tricky because it didn’t lead me to the “roof” opening since it was facing forward and the steps were on the side of the truck.

It didn’t help that beside the ladder was the engine exhaust pipe. So, it added an extra inch of protrusion to the path from ladder to the roof. The plan was that I had to stretch my legs wider so it could reach the vehicle’s roof while my other leg could propel my upper body on top of the truck’s head.

I was scared. It was really high and the truck’s chrome head had smooth, round edges so there’s nothing to hold on to when I let go of the ladder and I could slip and it’s a long-way down to the garage’s cemented floor.

I am not really physically coordinated. I wasn’t wired like that. I am not even agile. It was a struggle following my Dad’s instructions where I should hold and step so I won’t slip. My sister, who was already over-annoyed about riding the truck, climbed behind me , held my pants’ belt loop,  asked me to let go of the ladder and  lifted me. She pushed and I practically landed on the roof , chest first.  I belly crawled to the “cave of boxes”. My sister was tall so she didn’t have a hard time getting in. Right there and then, I decided, I will not go down in the middle of the trip even if I need to pee.

My sister was a fretful teenager then. She and I didn’t really get along well. Knowing that she also had her period at that time, she’s all the more extra irritable . I knew better not to ask for help during the trip.
After a few minutes the truck already started its engine and while it hasn’t moved yet, the emissions went to us. But the air cleared once we started moving. 

The truck had a different route because of the deliveries. This will prolong our travel time from Manila to Ilocos. Leaving the city meant leaving the street lights and the secondary roads in the provinces were mostly dark and empty. My sister and I were just quiet most of the time. I can’t remember if we even got hungry or thirsty during the trip. But I knew I would fall asleep every now and then.

The boxes we were sitting on got wrinkled and I got anxious that the driver would scold us if he learned about the condition of the boxes. In some places, it felt we were the only vehicle passing by. I think we arrived at a province way too early. The sun wasn’t up yet.

The driver parked beside the road under a lush and stalwart tree. I could tell its overhanging branches towers a portion of the highway. Our only source of light were the truck’s  headlights, so when the driver turned off its engine, everything became pitch dark. I was so scared.

My senses shifted to hyper-mode. My first instinct was to listen if there were movements from the driver and his companion. Growing up in a house which is just a notch upgrade from a tent, trained me to be super aware of my surroundings. My Dad usually did not sleep well at night. He was sort of guarding us while we were all asleep. There was an instance before that we got robbed while we were sleeping. Ever since that happened, he’d sleep like a chicken.

I think, I adapted that protective instinct plus one cannot underestimate how afternoon telenovelas can shape a young person’s mind on sexual abuse and all the series of unfortunate events which I fear may also happen to us.

There was no sound coming from them except for a few rustles. My eyes adjusted to the darkness around me. With the faint light coming from the moon and the stars, I can discern some shapes from the open field next to us. It was farmland. From the top of the truck I presumed the field was planted with in-between crops.

These are not main crops like rice which are usually planted during December. But it’s summer, so water is scarce. I thought that the field’s plants did not have a uniform height  so I deduced, they planted a variety of root crops like onions, camote or garlic  instead. I knew also we haven’t reached Ilocos yet, since there were no tobacco farms around. 

Around this time, Ate (a term used to describe an older sister) Malou was already uneasy. She said she needed to change her sanitary napkin already. Honestly, I didn’t know what response she expected from me because when I told her it was too dark outside plus our bags were with the driver, who’s asleep, she got furious as if putting the blame on me for the inconveniences we were suffering.

From the dark I can outline her eyes getting big at me and her eyebrows were already crossed. While mumbling, she’d shift her weight from one side to the other side, making the box she’s sitting on even more crumpled. I pity her but I was too afraid to show empathy. I could tell she’s angry at me for not being able to offer any form of help or suggestion to her predicament. 

Soon, the morning light broke-out and the truck’s engine started again. It didn’t move yet but kept the engine running. The fumes entered our “cave”. My sister and I covered our faces with the sweaters we carried with us. I remembered how our neighbor Tito Jaime would also start his jeepney’s engine while he dust off the exterior. I asked him before why, he said, operating a pre-heated engine is more efficient. So, I knew it will take about 5 mins before we move forward. 

The truck had a schedule to follow. So there were no unnecessary stops after that side road nap we had. There was no toilet break and surprisingly, they did not stop at any canteen just how passenger buses would. So, Ate Malou was really agonizing the whole time. Every now and then, we’d stop at a store and a few boxes would be discarded there. 

But there was one time Ate Malou peeped out of our cave and called out to the driver who was unloading some boxes together with his assistant and she spoke in Ilocano. I understood she’s requested to go to the toilet. The highways going North weren’t like how it is now. Back then, establishments or houses were too far apart.

There were no gasoline stations for a quick toilet break, nor would there be a Jollibee nearby. We usually would just pee behind tall grass. But Ate Malou needed to go to a comfort room so she was requesting that, but she couldn’t really tell the real need to change her napkin. The driver just said we could use the open fields. The driver wouldn’t want to ask any favor from the store owner he was delivering boxes to.

When I travelled with my mother before, she’d use an umbrella to cover us as we do our business. My sister and I had none. So, she sat back again but this time, I can see that she’s about to cry. I just let her be or else, I might again become the target of her repressed anger against the situation. 

I am not one to complain really. Poverty has been our lifestyle that maybe until now, I am so accustomed to it, I do not complain whenever there are financial challenges even with my own family.

However, I am hyper aware of the people around me. I am kind of expecting sooner or later they will crumble and be angry and I will be the first hit. I am always cautious. I have learned to stay quiet, to be inconspicuous. Being invincible is being safe. 

PART 2: HIDDEN

My sister and I remained quiet all throughout the trip. We were both  in and out of the light sleep we can manage. We were already in the southern part of Ilocos when the heat of the midday sun started to hurt my skin. The tarpaulin on top of our heads offered less relief yet the hot air dried our sweat. I need to cover my face because I fear it will hurt my skin. As a kid I am quite vain with two things, hair and skin. Despite the poverty, if there’s anything I can find around the house to make my skin healthier and my hair smoother, I will be using them religiously. There was a time when, despite the consumer products available in the market already, my mother still made us use gugo. 

It’s a tree bark I’d soak in water inside a half-filled dipper. While soaking, I learned by just observing my mother, she squeezed a couple of calamansi ( a local lime) even leaving the extracted rind soaking with the gugo. After around 5 minutes, I scooped the rind and the bark out. The rind can be thrown away while the gugo can be resoaked for the next bath. There would be bubbles in the water. If the bark doesn’t produce bubbles anymore, that’s the time it can be thrown away or be repurposed as body exfoliant.

Anyway, reading the arched town markers (that’s almost eye-level) I knew we’d reach our hometown in 20 minutes or so. My Ate instructed me to make sure our stuff was gathered and nothing will be left behind.  We’re both becoming anxious to leave the hot and humid tarpaulin cave, yet afraid as well because of the condition of the boxes we sat on for almost 15 hours. 

After  a while, my sister and I caught a glimpse of the familiar part of the national highway. Soon enough, the truck stopped in front of my Uncle’s house. My Aunt, Uncle and a few cousins were already standing by the roadside to greet us. They were on the other side of the road gawking at how my sister and I struggled to go down the truck’s head while Ate tried to cover her behind now fully marked with blood. 

Because of this, she couldn’t really assist me with my steps on the truck ladder. My left leg touched the hot muffler still running on my face. It instantly burned my pants and the heat reached my skin. It was really painful. I did not squirm. My goal was not to fall on the ground. The driver saw what happened and as soon as he could reach me, he pulled me away from the ladder, put me down on the ground and  checked on my burn. 

My skin was just red from the heat  but not really burned. He then climbed to the roof to check the boxes and of course, he saw that it was like a kid got killed there with the blood soaked on the already deformed corrugated boxes. He jumped back down and I can see his face was trying to hide his annoyance. 

By this time, my Uncle already crossed the road, reached for our bags, held my hand and he thanked the driver for our free ride. Knowing my Uncle’s hospitality, I could imagine he asked him to go inside his house to eat first before he continued with his deliveries. I am sure he declined because the trip was too long already and who wouldn’t want to just let the day be done already. 

My sister and I greeted the oldies asking for the hand blessing or what we Filipinos call the “pagmamano”. My cousins, who we see only once in a year, were gawking and by the look on their faces they’re judging the whole scenario of my sister and I emerging from the top of the truck. They never do that whenever they travel to Manila. They could ride an air-conditioned bus or rent a van to ferry them. I, for myself, was just raring to eat and sleep while my sister asked permission from my Uncle  if she could take a bath first before she eats. My Uncle prepared a welcome feast for us. He knew we hadn’t eaten since dinner yesterday. 
But for me, I am just glad I was safe from possible evil men and from my sister’s hurricane outbursts. I am happy she’s settled. This became the cadence of our relationship.

She’s happy. I am safe.

Photo credit: Pilipinas Recipes