Mang Lupe Mariano, 41 years old, and his little daughter Nina, 7 years old, wanted to go back to their hometown in Compostela Valley, Davao del Norte but they couldn't because they lacked the money to pay for their fare. So Mang Lupe decided to try luck begging for some help from the pedestrians in the Quiapo Underpass. A few coins every now and then were dropped by the passersby, but it seemed that there were very few kindhearted souls who will help the father and daughter get home.
Theirs was an unfortunate story. Father and daughter went to Manila on the invitation of a Manila relative who told Mang Lupe that a good job was waiting for him in Manila. Mang Lupe was very poor but he and his wife managed to borrow some money from friends and relatives for his fare to Manila. He had been working as a farmer in Davao, but his earnings of 80 pesos a day was too little to support his family (wife, and two sons and two daughters). So the job in Manila with a minimum wage--350 pesos a day--looked lucrative. The relative promised that he will be employed regularly.
And so with a 1,500 pesos borrowed money, and his eyes set on a bright future, Mang Lupe boarded a bus to Manila. He brought with him his youngest daughter Nina since their Manila relative promised that there will be a maid who will look after the daughter when Mang Lupe was working. The plan was to bring the whole family later in Manila when the going gets smoother.
Upon his arrival in Manila, Mang Lupe got lost. He couldn't find the address given to him by his relative. Fortunately, he wrote down the cellphone number of his relative. But he didn't have a cellphone, didn't even know how to use one. So he went to a police station to have the police contact the number. As it happened, the cellphone was either "unattended" or "couldn't be reached". The police traced the address. But the address was either wrong or non-existent.
The police thought that maybe Mang Lupe was just acting--that he was only after money. They gave the daughter some food and told Mang Lupe to search further. Meanwhile Mang Lupe was very upset. He couldn't believe that they got lost. When night fell, he and daughter decided to sleep in one of the sidewalks of Quiapo--sharing a space with some of the city beggars. The remaining 20 pesos that was left of their 1,500, was used to buy bread. They drank water from the faucet in the Quiapo public toilet. Now, they were penniless, and Mang Lupe was worried what will happen in the morrow.
The next morning (Friday), they decided to beg for some money so that they can have money for breakfast and eventually, a fare back to Davao. It was a Friday afternoon and I just attended the afternoon mass at the Quiapo Church. As was my custom, I passed through the underpass to go to Quezon Boulevard. It was then that I first noticed Mang Lupe and his daughter --squatting on the steps of the Quiapo Underpass. They didn't look like paupers to me, but the sight of a cute little child begging for some money was enough to remove my doubts.
I asked the little girl her name but she was shy and wouldn't say a word. Mang Lupe said that her daughter doesn't speak Tagalog. Mang Lupe told me his story in smattering Tagalog. From my own experience of communicating with poor people, I have already developed an acute sense of who might be telling the truth or lie. In the manner in which Mang Lupe told me his story, I knew that he was telling me the truth. I invited them for a lunch at a nearby fast food outlet. Since I didn't have enough money to provide for their complete fare, I decided to help with what little money I have in my pocket--plus I wrote down on a piece of paper a little note asking for help from the pedestrians in the underpass. I then bid my goodbye and wished them the best--hoping in my heart of hearts that there would be enough kindhearted people to help them to go back home.
The next morning (Saturday), I returned to Quiapo to check what happened to them. The night before, I was thinking of them--what happened to them? My conscience was torturing me that I hadn't helped enough. Why had I not invited them to my house? Now I must see to it that they get home. But Mang Lupe and Nina were no longer in the Quiapo Underpass when I returned there. I felt devastated. The other beggars, however, told me that Mang Lupe and Nina earned enough money begging yesterday and was now on their way back in Compostela Valley. I heaved a sigh of relief. God bless them.
I have to say finally that there are still many kindhearted souls in this world who will help a lost father and daughter find their way home.
A mother and daughter take a pitiful look at a lost father and daughter
Theirs was an unfortunate story. Father and daughter went to Manila on the invitation of a Manila relative who told Mang Lupe that a good job was waiting for him in Manila. Mang Lupe was very poor but he and his wife managed to borrow some money from friends and relatives for his fare to Manila. He had been working as a farmer in Davao, but his earnings of 80 pesos a day was too little to support his family (wife, and two sons and two daughters). So the job in Manila with a minimum wage--350 pesos a day--looked lucrative. The relative promised that he will be employed regularly.
And so with a 1,500 pesos borrowed money, and his eyes set on a bright future, Mang Lupe boarded a bus to Manila. He brought with him his youngest daughter Nina since their Manila relative promised that there will be a maid who will look after the daughter when Mang Lupe was working. The plan was to bring the whole family later in Manila when the going gets smoother.
Upon his arrival in Manila, Mang Lupe got lost. He couldn't find the address given to him by his relative. Fortunately, he wrote down the cellphone number of his relative. But he didn't have a cellphone, didn't even know how to use one. So he went to a police station to have the police contact the number. As it happened, the cellphone was either "unattended" or "couldn't be reached". The police traced the address. But the address was either wrong or non-existent.
The police thought that maybe Mang Lupe was just acting--that he was only after money. They gave the daughter some food and told Mang Lupe to search further. Meanwhile Mang Lupe was very upset. He couldn't believe that they got lost. When night fell, he and daughter decided to sleep in one of the sidewalks of Quiapo--sharing a space with some of the city beggars. The remaining 20 pesos that was left of their 1,500, was used to buy bread. They drank water from the faucet in the Quiapo public toilet. Now, they were penniless, and Mang Lupe was worried what will happen in the morrow.
The next morning (Friday), they decided to beg for some money so that they can have money for breakfast and eventually, a fare back to Davao. It was a Friday afternoon and I just attended the afternoon mass at the Quiapo Church. As was my custom, I passed through the underpass to go to Quezon Boulevard. It was then that I first noticed Mang Lupe and his daughter --squatting on the steps of the Quiapo Underpass. They didn't look like paupers to me, but the sight of a cute little child begging for some money was enough to remove my doubts.
I asked the little girl her name but she was shy and wouldn't say a word. Mang Lupe said that her daughter doesn't speak Tagalog. Mang Lupe told me his story in smattering Tagalog. From my own experience of communicating with poor people, I have already developed an acute sense of who might be telling the truth or lie. In the manner in which Mang Lupe told me his story, I knew that he was telling me the truth. I invited them for a lunch at a nearby fast food outlet. Since I didn't have enough money to provide for their complete fare, I decided to help with what little money I have in my pocket--plus I wrote down on a piece of paper a little note asking for help from the pedestrians in the underpass. I then bid my goodbye and wished them the best--hoping in my heart of hearts that there would be enough kindhearted people to help them to go back home.
The next morning (Saturday), I returned to Quiapo to check what happened to them. The night before, I was thinking of them--what happened to them? My conscience was torturing me that I hadn't helped enough. Why had I not invited them to my house? Now I must see to it that they get home. But Mang Lupe and Nina were no longer in the Quiapo Underpass when I returned there. I felt devastated. The other beggars, however, told me that Mang Lupe and Nina earned enough money begging yesterday and was now on their way back in Compostela Valley. I heaved a sigh of relief. God bless them.
I have to say finally that there are still many kindhearted souls in this world who will help a lost father and daughter find their way home.
A mother and daughter take a pitiful look at a lost father and daughter
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