The Boy in the Jeepney

In the Philippines, less than 5% of the population can enjoy the luxury of private vehicles. The rest of humanity takes public transportation.

Now that I work mostly at home, I no longer need a full-time driver. I therefore try to work my schedule around my husband’s so I can borrow his driver.

But that can get complicated.

So whenever I have a quick errand, I make my life easier. I join the rest of humanity and take a tricycle, or a bus, or a taxi, or a jeepney, or an FX (an airconditioned van that packs 14 passengers in a space for 10), or a combination of all.

It was difficult in the beginning. But everything in life is just a matter of getting used to. I once hated okra, now I can’t live without it.

One day I needed to go to the NBI to get a clearance for my upcoming travel. I jumped into a jeepney and started solving the crossword puzzle that I usually bring along to shorten the hours.

A little boy about the size of a four-year-old but may already be around eight, startled me when he put a letter envelope on my and everybody’s lap. In someone’s handwriting, the message read, “Please help me. I belong to the Aeta tribe and I need some money.” Suddenly a man behind him, hanging on to the rear of the jeepney, started beating his small bongo and looking sternly at the little boy.

On cue the kid started wiggling and dancing in the small space where cramped knees from both sides met. I looked at his face and it revealed nothing. After a few minutes, he took back all the envelopes and looked straight at me. That stoic gaze gored my heart.

I fumbled with my big bag trying to look for my purse. Before I could find it, the boy had jumped off the jeepney tailing the man with the bongo.

Must any child be subjected to such indignity and cruelty? He should be somewhere else playing with other kids or reading children's books! I looked at the lady beside me. She was chewing a gum, oblivious to it all. I looked all around, and the whole packed jeepney reeked with apathy.

That scene would be replayed many times over in other jeepneys. And I sat there, with my crossword puzzle and big bag, my heart bleeding, unable to do anything except to close my eyes and ask for grace—that it may be poured upon that little boy to whom the kingdom of heaven belongs.

In Matthew 19:14, Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven."

Yet we adults do hinder them. We play the bongo and let them dance. And we sit there as though it’s just one of those things.