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Sunday, December 18, 2005
Estremera: No longer child's play
By Stella A. Estremera
Spider's Web
THE length of R. Castillo has become some sort of reflection road for me. After passing through the traffic bottlenecks downtown and that multi-pronged junction where R. Castillo starts, I couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief once I'm finally through it all.
That's when my mind, now no longer bothered and cursing against reckless drivers and stupid pedestrians, cruises on and pensively takes in the goings-on along the road.
Friday night, on my way back to the office after a rushed trip downtown to buy some items, my eyes settled on a group of boys--two age groups. Four in their late teens and three maybe between five to seven years old.
The teens were in a rowdy spirit, sparring as we used to call it when we were still kids and prone to be in that spirit. They were exchanging blows and kicks and pummeling each other. Had they not been laughing loudly, I would have thought they were in a rumble.
The three young ones immediately followed suit, ganging up on the smallest one, pummeling him.
But as expected of young ones who still have to learn how to control their arms, the young one fell to the ground, bawling.
By then, the taxi have cruised past and I could no longer see them even as I cricked my neck trying to catch what happened next.
I simply imagined the next scene as the taxi cruised on.
The young one would most likely run bawling home to mother; mother would run out shouting invectives at his playmates, or, if the playmates are his brothers, then most likely they'll end up with a few swats on the butt and a "yawyaw" that would last till bedtime.
End of story.
How nice it is to be a child when getting in trouble would mean getting it from mom and nothing else.
As we grow older, getting into trouble will mean running head-on against the law, and if caught, getting what's legally due us -- if you're lucky and a first-time petty offender; if not, then you just might be blasted off to kingdom come by yet another DDS bullet.
Much as I try to get into the Christmas spirit, I can't help but shiver in recalling the several youths whose lives were lost. Petty offenders, the ones we love to hate, not given a chance to reflect on their mistakes and maybe turn a new leaf.
What's even more unsettling is that there seemingly isn't any whimper of protest coming from anywhere. Those young men were simply erased from our world, denied the revelry of Christmas at the very least.
Their numbers just keep on growing an still no one is whimpering.
I couldn't help but worry... have we become so used to young men being killed on the streets such that we no longer see the need to protest or at least beg for justice? That last week was the week before Christmas make these killings even more gruesome. Apparently, those who wield such power to snuff out the lives of young offenders no longer have any tinge of conscience, not even for the spirit of Christmas.
Or... was Christmas the deadline they were beating? Was the reason why those young men just fell to the ground lifeless in eerie succession because the killers didn't want their hands bloodied before Christmas eve?
I don't want to put a damper on anyone's festive spirit, but I also cannot remain silent any longer. Maybe we can take the Christmas break to think about what has become of our children and what we have allowed society to do to them and resolve something that promises a better new year for these misguided youths.
As I type all these thoughts down, though I couldn't help but wonder: Is somebody actually reading and empathizing with these young lives or are we actually back in the days of the first Christmas when there was no room in anyone's heart, not even for the Savior?
For Bisaya stories from Davao. Click here. (December 18, 2005 issue)
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