Saturday, September 06, 2008 So: Drive to work By Jocy So Unraveling
I AM 29 years old and I have yet to learn how to drive. It has always been a goal to learn how since many people consider it a standard requirement for membership in the world of adulthood. But I just never had that much interest learning. Today, I realized why.
I love being a passenger. To this day, I feel a sense of security and peace being in the passenger seat of our car, with my mother or younger brother driving. And I especially love the 15 to 20 minute morning drive from our house in Lanang to downtown Davao City for work. Here is a time for letting go and not being in control, of just seeing the world go by.
It is my own quiet time for reflection, a short moment of wordless prayer, in appreciation for the wonders of living and being. As the city wakes and gears up for the day, my sleepy eyes also open to the beauty of Davao.
Each day, Mt. Apo looms in the horizon, as we speed seemingly towards it. Our Apo or grandfather, in all of its 9,692 feet, protects the city from typhoons and devastating weather. Though at times obscured by clouds, I feel comforted by its solidity, its sense of permanence, forever rooted in the same spot, forever in front of the road, waiting and watching...
It watches the many people going about their day: students in uniform waiting for jeepneys, standing by the street, some impatiently scanning their watches and stamping their feet, others, with time to kill, waiting for the jeep with the right music, and the right colors.
There are people on motorcycles, bicycles, tricycles, trisikads, all deftly crisscrossing the busy roads, squeezing through tight spaces between larger cars and the concrete islands, the tops of their heads flashing past the waling-waling street lights and multihued tarpaulin ads. Although the drivers' maneuvers often cause my mother's blood pressure to rise, I, as a worry-free passenger and observer, still see a sort of magic, a gracefulness in how all these people can weave and dance around each other.
But, the ride to work is not all crowd and busy driving. Whenever we near the flyover to Buhangin, and turn to curve around one of its side roads, I know we are about to go through my favorite street during the drive-Dacudao. Here, in the early mornings, there are fewer people than the main roads, and the sunlight that filters through the small canopy of green leaves from the trees that line up the road is simply beautiful, a blessing.
Davao City now has around 1.3 million people. It is no longer the city I remember from my drive to school in the 80s and 90s, with its flat lands and empty lots, and the few vehicles and commuters straggling along the way. Davao has grown and continues to grow. But the city will die for me without these trees in Dacudao. These trees erase worries about work to be done, deadlines to hit, projects to finish. The city's heart races in its hectic urban pace, but along Dacudao Street, it slows to a steady beat. The trees remind me to breathe.
During the drive to work, Mt. Apo makes me look forward, the main roads with its people and vehicles make me look around, and the trees of Dacudao make me look up.
Today, as I arrive to my destination, I am grateful for another opportunity to just be quiet and watch everything unfold. I briefly close my eyes before stepping out of the car. I have finished my prayer.
(Jocy L. So teaches at Davao Christian High School.)
