I was going home past midnight of January 1 from my girlfriend's house. When I finally got on a jeep home, three guys hung on to the back. Sabit. There were only two passengers, one was me, inside. I thought they were trying to go for a freebie. I was eating shing-aling nonchalantly. Then my vision spun.
The guy wearing a bonnet kicked me straight to the face, using the hand hold for leverage. I moved back away from the next thrust. Fortunately for them, and for me, the driver saw. We haven't gone far from the terminal. He called up his buddies, drivers, and chased the three guys away. Then I went home.
Strange thing was I didn't get angry nor afraid. The guy kicked me, I thought Baket? I sat there eating my shing-aling, watching the driver & co. shoo them away. My face didn't hurt much. Good thing I didn't try to exact payback, one of the guys had a balisong. It narrowly missed one of the driver's buddies.
I told this to my girlfriend a couple of days later. I didn't want her to worry that night. No reaction. Maybe I expected some uh thing.. else. Along the lines of "Ano?! Are you alright?.."
Anyway.. so I thought, Baket? If they wanted to mug me, they'd have pointed the blade first and asked me to come down and follow them. They probably had nothing better to do. They were probably intoxicated. Or high.
So ends my first day of this year, 2004.
The next morning, my aunt greeted me with "Nasa kabila mama mo. Di mo alam? Wala na tito Crispin mo."
He was old, and had been bedridden for a couple of years now, and I think all of my relatives have accepted it was just a matter of time.
What caught me aback was just the night before, all his brothers and sisters went to his house for a visit. I saw a picture of them, all seven, taken that night. All, smiling.