WALKING THE FIELDS
By Veni Orlina
The tricycle station keeps changing place, so you just have to ask around, but first try the corner along Hotel Ibalon or beside the railroad. So that’s the best direction I can get from my PO contact.
Very early the following day, I set out for around three hours trip in a multitude of public utility rides from the small coastal barrio I was living to my destination. The purpose was quite simple: complete the profiling of the group of small farmers in the area. It was a task left bythe PO leaders who weren’t able to finish it up due to other concerns of much more importance.
Assignments like this give me an added excitement especially if I’ve never been to the place before and doesn’t know anyone save for a few names. You can never get lost if you know what you’re looking for. An open smile lightens the barrier between these countryside strangers. Somehow they are much more humane and accomodating than folks from the house that makes people mad (red tape from government buildings).
In the morning the weather was cooperating – cloudy, and the smell of the soon-to-be-harvested palay drifts with the wind as I walk along rice paddies, asking directions from each house I pass by. On trips like this I make it a point to wear an outer and inner socks for added cushion to my dainty feet. Murphy probably saw me on the way, because the first destination was a Bgy Captain’s house who doesn’t look lived in. After a struggle, a boy with remote control in hand came out to say his father is in Cebu for a seminar. Realizing I don’t even have an introduction letter from the office, I decided not toask directions for the Bgy Secretary’s house and instead I made an appointment for another day.
Next in the itinerary was much more encouraging because I wasn’t able to find the house, much less the person. Sure there was some Ibarreta in the area, but none by the first name of Nestor. (On a later day, I was able to track him out – he resigned from the now-defunct irrigator’s association two years ago). I decided to go back to the city for lunch. I could feel the imminent eruption of a lesion on my right sole. (Maybe the shoes has to go). The cloudy weather opted to pour some gentle rain, which prompted me to purchase an umbrella. Timely because I just lost my umbrella on the jeep a few days ago.
In the afternoon the first stop will be at the city development and planning office. A kindly lady, she showed me a folder containing the latest approved city development plan. If I could return them before one o’clock, because by then she’ll bring it to a meeting, I can borrow it for photocopying. My, wasn’t I running to the nearest zerox machine? When I got back she requested for my autograph. Scanning the guest book, I can see names who came looking for bgy profiles. Isn’t that what I’m also slaving off to find those Bgy Captains?
A single inquiry did it. Soon I was inside the air-conditioned computer room pouring over five bgy profiles. Well, not bad after the morning’s experience, and some of the male employees came by to look at the name of another researcher. Well, I’m not seeing anything, except that these computer people would do better if they have a mouse to click in their colored monitors… and I was sitting cross-legged, the sores hurting like hell and dreaming of that Swiss-made walking shoes…..#
