Rugby Session

It was a ghastly sight, youths in their teens inhaling rugby and acetone in a darkened alley on a little sidewalk in downtown Manila. Some people passing by averted their eyes, shook their heads in disgust, their lives momentarily disturbed by the sight of youthful drug addicts openly sniffing malodorous substances in public, in open defiance of authority.

Through pooled contributions, the rugby boys managed to buy a bottle of rugby from a nearby hardware store. Then each with a plastic container, they divided the contents equally, not a drop less or more; "hating-kapatid" (brotherly partition). One of them was a girl. "Siya ang muse namin."(She's our muse). I asked the girl her name but she wouldn't answer. She was, I found out, deaf and mute.

The rugby is the cheapest of all the substances that these kids sniff so that they can get "high." At 35 pesos a bottle, the rugby "solves" them for the night. Sometimes the boys also use solvent (contact cement), an expensive rare treat that has stronger "getting high" effect and emits a "heavenly" more pungent odor. They are in "heaven" within a few minutes of inhaling the substance. But at 65 pesos a bottle, the substance is hardly affordable to these youngsters.

"Mahal e," one of the rugby boys told me, "65 ang isang bote, kaya pag may malaking kita lang ang ka-tropa tsaka kami bumibili ng solvent" (It's expensive, 65 pesos a bottle, so we just buy when we have big earnings"). "Di kami nag-sa-shabu, Kuya, mahal yun...dehins yaka ng bulsa." (We don't use shabu. Too expensive.)

Rugby has the same effect as solvent, however. Rugby only acts slower, and the users experience the "kick" a few minutes later. But then again, it is enough to forget hunger and the misery of their condition. When they reach the "drugged" condition, the pupils of their eyes dilate, and their consciousness enter into a drifting state as if they have reached heaven, nirvana, and the state of blissful consciousness or semi-consciousness. For them, it is a place where problems do not exist. No longer would they worry about food, family problems, and their wretched state. They smile and banter with one another, momentarily escaping the hard realities of being poor and maligned.

For a few pesos, the rugby solves all their problems.

Acetone is also a substance that these kids abuse, and they mix it with the rugby for a more powerful "kick."

"Dapat hindi kayo gumagamit niyan" I said, "Di lang niyan sisirain ang baga ninyo, pati na rin ang inyong kinabukasan." (You shouldn't be doing this. It will not only destroy your lungs, but also your future.)

"Wala na kaming kinabukasan, Kuya" (We don't have a future anymore). "Ito lang ang ligaya namin at di naman kami nanggugulo." (This is our only happiness. And we do not bother anyone).

Aged 14 to 19, these kids are either stow-aways, or have been neglected or abused by their families. They somehow manage to survive without parental supervision. Some of them earn a few coins a day by being "jeepney barkers," calling passengers to fill up a jeepney. Others are paid running errands for the stall owners in the Quinta Market. Some others earn by stevedoring. And a few of them sell sex to the pedophiles.

Of course, selling sex for drugs is the easiest thing to do. But lately, their sex clients come less frequently. Apparently, they prefer cleaner and younger boys. At sixteen, these kids are too old.

Nevertheless, no one among them gets involved in serious criminal offenses. "Di kami mandurukot, Kuya. Kalaboso at bugbog ang lagpak namin doon," one of the older boys said. (We are not pick-pockets. We do not want to be flogged or thrown to jail.) Except for a few fist fights against rival gangs, these youths live peacefully, sharing meals, camaraderie, and substances.

I felt great pity towards these youngsters, and by extension, towards our society. The youth is the vision of hope for a country. But with young people like them, we only see the ills of our society, the malignant cancer Rizal spoke of a century before.

As I looked on each of their hardened faces, I see a lost and devastated future instead of a bright and shining one. A lost promise. What would become of them five or ten years from now? Cellphone snatchers? Hardened criminals? Psychopaths? Street robbers? Killers? Dead?

As I began to walk away, one the boys -- now in in high "drugged" condition -- shouted, "Kuya picture naman o! Subenir lang, hehehe."

"Tsaka Kuya huwag mo kami isumbong sa pulis, ha!" (Please do not report us to the police).

I didn't. The police would just arrest them, beat them, and then let them go. For the police, these kids are just a nuisance.