Public nuisance or a treat for cheap?

Public nuisance in the form of begging money from people in buses and jeepneys has always been a pet peeve of mine. People doing this makes me want to wish I had the power to transport myself through radio signals into a place other than the stinky bus we are in. I hate the idea of getting what you want out of nothing, doing nothing, without equal effort. I truly believe in cause and effect. And these people who just sneak inside buses to give you an empty white envelope with notes that say “I am Jenny, an out-of-school youth…”, to “Please help fund our charitable institution…”, just are plain irritating to the bone. Some envelopes don’t even have notes on them that you won’t have the slightest idea what the money they’re asking for is for. It pains me to see that many Filipinos try so hard to appear helpless to be pitied by, and thus be exempt from working hard to pay the bills, and the tax.

There have been many kinds around – preachers, sellers, and recently adding up spice in the industry – Badjaos. The first group is plain nuisance. They would preach about gospel and appear holy in front of you, then collect their envelopes and say “may god be with you always” – plain shit as that. So you get to have god be with you once you give them money? Ha. The sellers, on the other hand, initially hand you a note saying “I’m a widow with three children, blah blah blah”, then offers you their products. These kinds don’t piss me much, as the products weren’t very expensive, and these people carried heavy baskets of products just to sell them around, hence they worked for the money. The sad thing about their “force selling” is that they are doing some kind of blackmail. Those “help us” notes are the reason why I included this group in the public nuisance camp. And the third group is the artists – the Badjaos. They also hand a few envelopes, with little notes saying they wanted some help, or to that effect. And after distributing the envelopes, they would thump their bongos, sing their haunting Badjao melodies and do ethnic dances. Despite their filthy shirts, these kids - yes, kids – delighted me. It’s like I’m immersed in some other dimension, where pure art is all over around me. My husband would grin looking at me while I sway my body to the Badjao rhythm. So, despite the nuisance they bring, I felt like I was in for some treat. So I handed them my “help”, in exchange for a priceless experience the Badjao kids don’t know was very significant to me.