This story may have happened to you; it happened to many. Ah Kong digested the lengthy stories of the many who told their experiences, but exerted efforts to retain salient features of what they encountered.
As Baguio City councilor Arthur Alladiw lately said to for Ah Kong, “To keep writing inspiring stories” with that human interest angle. To councilor Alladiw and many other readers of Herald Express requesting the same, Ah, will do, to your request. And thank you so much for that trust.
Maybe, time was in the past, you used to indulge in such anticipation like, after Friday, wake up early Saturdays, Sundays, hitch a jeep ride to Baguio, steer to a park or somewhere where quiet reigns and engage in the hot pursuit of removing that fat happily hiding under your protruding belly and waist while you curse that hidden thing called “bilbil.”
But times have changed – and that accursed bilbil doesn’t want to change. Going to the park or somewhere serene hasn’t become regular nowadays, perhaps because of the vexing apprehension that, the thing described by authorities as virus might leap into your nose, skedaddle down your larynx box, settle into your chest like it’s its own house then merrily wreak havoc to those beautiful parts inside your anatomy.
Momentarily curtailed of such physical exercise, you then decided to concentrate on your pale and sickly plants inside your house – which pine for the touch of morning dews and balmy air outside and you cluck your tongue wondering why they’re looking so wretchedly.
Losing interest in caring for your “in” plants that don’t respond to your sweet caress, you decided one Saturday to venture – finally – out from your house. By 3:30 A.M., you find yourself on Baguio’s streets.
Loitering, you began observing, the keen observer you are: Magsaysay Avenue looks the same. But just a minute, you second-looked.
Where are those famous “ladies of the night” or those called “Magsaysay Express girls” that often congregate below Magsaysay Avenue overpass until 5 o’clock A.M. and chattered like incessant birds to lure an errant male with an offer of “wam pipti” (one fifty) only, service?
But the lit alley where these women usually stood by, is silent and totally deserted. Gone are the females who often say to male passers, “Hello, pogi!” Or instead would hitch their fingers into a male’s arm and croon, “Agpakapi ka man, sweetheart!”
Gone, too, you noticed, is the strong scent of mixed perfume that often assail any that passes that area where these women wait, and you shake your head.
For how often you heard stories of males having gotten drunk, lured by “wam pipti,” only to wake up and discover their pockets, once full of cash, have been picked clean, by whom, we don’t know, and the lady who invited him with “wam pipti” being nowhere in sight and Gone with the Wind.
You also remember, that one time too many, of years past, the Department of Social Welfare and Development – Cordillera Administrative Region (DSWD-CAR) reached out to these women of the night and imparted trainings for them on livelihood entrepreneurship. Skills they can do even when in their places of stay, coupled with DSWD-CAR financial start-up.
Only for DSWD-CAR to discover later that these women trained, opted to go back on the streets – to the inclination of offering “wam pipti” to males- instead of exploiting their newly-acquired skills to earn money.
You question your shaking head whether what’s profitable and easier to do: offer “wam pipti” or earn bread by honest trickle of sweat on the brow?
Being a Doubting Thomas, you wonder if that lit alley frequented by the “Magsaysay express girls,” would reveal hidden stories of “trail of tears or happiness” of these women whose lives could have been different, somehow.
Could they have been pushed to desperation to become who they are, by past events in their lives? You can only wonder and argue with yourself while standing there at Magsaysay Avenue that normally, no woman would like to choose to become a hooker if she can avoid it.
But the alley is silent, not answering your question, keeping secret whatever the women whispered there, a place momentarily emptied by a killer scourge that even these street ladies, fear.
With social distancing in place, brothels and strip clubs closed, sex workers in the city have seen their income disappear overnight. They will bide their time when the scourge will finally recede, to offer their “wam pipti” again.
It must have taken you long, loitering at Magsaysay Avenue and decided to move up Magsaysay Avenue. And you observed, Magsaysay Avenue leading towards Malcolm Square is less devoid of human activity.
Save for farmers whose vegetable-laden vehicles are being unloaded by porters along the road’s right side adjacent the Fruit Market Section, you failed to meet familiar faces that once welcomed as you passed.
Failing to see familiar faces, you get an odd feeling of a sense of isolation, incompatible with the thoroughfares of Baguio once noisy and abuzz, amidst whose motley multitude you now don’t hear a familiar voice, feel no pressure of a friendly hand and gazes only on the faces of strangers.
No more can you even spot the rowdy crowd of news vendors who, before the virus entry, would be seen busily arranging different publications stacked in front of the government-owned Maharlika Building, for distribution to newsstands in the city, La Trinidad and elsewhere in Cordillera.
It’s at Maharlika where early risers like lawyers, politicians, business people, police officers and others secure their copies of newspapers, grab a cup of coffee somewhere while scanning “what’s new” as printed in the papers. It’s there where these people renew acquaintances, if for a while.
Alas, but that place is also hushed. A change indeed has passed in front of Maharlika Building, where male news vendors would regularly swap ribald tales while their laughter reverberates along the building’s walls.
There, where before, early rising residents meet acquaintances, while their curiosity in meeting friends can be punctuated by comments like, “Oy, kumusta, papanam ket naka-agagsapa?” And the usual answer would be, “Mapanak man biit dita market.”
T’was there at Maharlika where it was often heard of males meeting each other early 4’oclok in the morning, one saying to the other, “Ala ka, padli, apay tatta ka la agsapa agawid? Apay napanam aya idi rabii ngamin? Nakitak ni Misis mo idi kalman a biyernes ket birbiruken naka!”
T’was there at Maharlika where it was often heard of female meeting another female friend and one female humorously planting a seed of suspicion in her friend she met by saying, “Oy, _____ (citing her name), nakitak ni darling mo idi kalman a biyernes ti rabii ket adda kasarsarita na a babae nga attiddug bu-ok na. Nagmayat kakatawaan da. Am-ammom kadi didyiay a babae?”
Because it was a seed of humor and no truth in it, the female who’s at the receiving end of the humor usually would angrily bark statements like, “Tarantado didyiay nga lalaki a! Isu gayam nga txt nak nga txt idi kalman ti rabii ket awan sungbat na. Makita didyiay nu agkita kami, Grr *&++524# 97%.!!”
Leaving Maharlika Building, your footsteps find your proceeding towards Malcolm Square and you notice not a soul in there. Only shadows of the trees surrounding the Square gave evidence of the presence of life as the birds resting on the trees chirp to greet the breaking morning.
And you sit on one of the steps of Malcolm Square, a familiar haunt of residents, its value proportionally enhanced and benevolently reciprocated by the whole Baguio community that use the Square for rest and recreation.
T’was here you once heard, not long ago, of two seniors, a male and female residents of Baguio, talking.
And the gist of the seniors that you remember is, Malcolm Square is where one can find an antidote to events like bad weather, contrary winds, scolding wives, drunken husbands, chronic disorders, dull neighbors, lawsuits, rent overdue, high blood pressure, etcetera, to calm the soul’s nerves.
Tis at Malcolm Square where you may find unpleasant personalities, pleasing personalities and women hard to please.
Talking about women hard to please, t’was at Malcolm Square where you once heard of a tale of a store selling husbands and where women went to buy a spouse. That store had six floors.
At the first floor, instruction to husband-seeking women was clear: YOU WILL VISIT THE STORE ONLY ONCE.
Additional instructions to the women: a woman can buy a man from a certain floor or may choose to go up another floor. But a woman cannot go back down except to exit the building.
So it happened that a hard-to-please Filipina went to the store to find a husband. On the first floor, the sign said: Men inside have jobs and love the Lord. She decided to proceed to the second floor.
On the second floor the sign said: Men inside have jobs, love the Lord and love kids. She thought for a while then decided to go to the third floor.
On the third floor, the sign read: Men inside have jobs, love the Lord, love kids and are “pogi.” Wow thought the Filipina but felt compelled to go to the fourth floor.
On the fourth floor the sign said: Men inside have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, are “pogi” and expert in housework. Oh boy, the Filipina wanted to open the fourth door and buy a husband but wanted to go to the fight floor.
On the fifth floor the sign read: Men inside have jobs, love the Lord, love kids, are “pogi,” expert in housework and are very romantic. She was so tempted to open the fifth floor door but this hard-to-please Filipina decided to visit the sixth floor.
On the sixth floor, the sign said: You are woman visitor number 69,000 to this floor. There are no men inside the sixth room. Thank you for visiting. You may now exit the building.
Remembering that tale, you stand up from where you sat and decides to head to Burnham Park. But you looked at your watch and it was already past 6’ o’clock A.M., late for exercising. You decided instead to go back home. You have loitered too much.