By Kate Alison Boyore
It was a sunny summer afternoon in Santa Lucia, Ilocos Sur, and it was especially hot in the construction site. Several bottles of a well-known carbonated drink were scattered on the ground as an aftermath of an obviously hurried merienda. Men of all ages share the same standard snack every time: a bottle of soda and mayonnaise sandwiches, but they do not mind as long as they can rest their aching bodies even while drenched in sweat and covered in dust and dry cement.
Early into the pandemic last year, the impact of COVID-19 reflected harshly on the construction sector. According to the International Labor Organization’s (ILO) assessment of COVID-19 labour market impact in the Philippines, there was a huge decline in employment in construction in April 2020 totaling to -33.8 percent compared to the same period in 2019.
After experiencing job loss for months before they got back on track, the workers who toiled from early morning until late afternoon were an hour away from finishing their shifts, excited to go home to their wives and children for a nice dinner. Some who were younger just relished the thought of having their mothers cook for them after a day of hard work, jokingly telling their peers that they will soon have wives too.
None, however, could come close to the eagerness of Arsenio “Punyong” Rosario, Jr., 36, who was the first to hurry off every afternoon. He was a tough guy, everyone in the barangay said, who never shed tears but was known to be affectionate for his family.
He comes home to his wife and three children – all of whom are hungry and waiting for their father’s return as he always brings home delicious treats from his merienda. He does not touch the food, you see, because he loves it when his children’s eyes twinkle with happiness from the simple nibbles.
That afternoon, however, there were no sodas or sandwiches, nor were there any signs of their father.
The Crippled Man’s Accident
The children cried and asked for food, but their mother was filled with so much worry that she failed to provide even simple victuals.
“Hindi ko alam kung ano’ng gagawin ko. Palagi naman siyang umuuwi pag ‘malem’ na – alas singko o alas singko y media,” Malou, 30, Punyong’s wife, explained.
(I did not know what to do. He always comes home in the afternoon at five o’clock or five thirty.)
Punyong recounted the events that followed – he was brought home wailing in pain and had broken hips.
He narrated how he was asked by one of his superiors to help in aligning the hollow blocks to build part of the wall of the second floor. He obliged even when it was not part of his job description.
He vaguely remembers losing his footing while he assembled the bricks to make sure they were aligned. The next thing he knew after he turned to step away from the edge was feeling extreme pain in the left part of his hip as he struggled to get up from the hard soil. He was not brought to the hospital, and when asked why, he said he had no clues as well.
Everything was a blur to him after the fall. He knew he was brought home and that his co-workers helped carry him. He knew instinctively that there were broken bones in his hip area. But other than these facts, to him, the only image that stayed was his wife’s face which was twisted in fear.
The Dying Son’s Fate
While Punyong struggled to deal with the accident and the consequences it brought about, his wife was left to manage taking care of their three children: Kyle Justin, 7, Arjay, 5, and Chriselle, who is barely a year old.
Their first son, Malou says, sat still in front of his father when the accident happened – something that the child has never really done before.
“Iniisip niya siguro ‘bakit kaya ganito si papa?’, eh hindi naman ganyan ‘yan. Makulit tsaka bibo ‘yang batang yan,” Malou clarified.
Kyle was just four when he was diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy. Muscular Dystrophy Association (MDA), a nonprofit organization for people with muscular dystrophy and related neuromuscular diseases, defines this as “a group of genetic, degenerative diseases primarily affecting voluntary muscles.”
There is no current cure. The patients usually die before reaching 20.
“Ang sakit sa loob ko noong nalaman ko. Lalo na kasi hindi naman siya dahil sa kapabayaan naming ni Malou. May kapatid kasi siya na may muscular dystrophy din. Namatay nung before mag-19,” Punyong said. He fidgeted in the makeshift bed he was laid in behind their house. He struggled to face to the opposite side as he tried to hide his forming tears.
(It was hard to take in when I found out, especially because the illness was not caused by any shortcoming from my wife and I. Malou had a brother with muscular dystrophy who died before reaching 19.)
Punyong reached for his wife and signaled that he needed help facing the interviewer again. He wheezed slightly and said he needed time to stabilize as moving was difficult for him. When he was ready to take on the questions again, his eyes looked sullen.
“Masakit kasi ganyan na nga ‘yong anak ko, tapos nagkaganito pa ako,” he expressed.
(It hurts because of my son’s condition, and now I am in this situation.)
There was a quiet pause. None of the family members were speaking, not even their tiny daughter who loved to laugh and giggle. Only gloom filled the air. Kyle looked at him curiously but failed to ask anything.
Now, both of them had frigid bones. Sorrow evidently flooded the crippled man’s soul. The man did not know what to do. It looked as if he was waiting for death to arrive. But the thing is: he did not know whose.
His fears
There was no financial help from the construction company besides the payment for Punyong’s initial check-up and the few thousand pesos every few months, which had eventually stopped after a few givings.
After losing their savings over the pandemic period when Punyong was temporarily unemployed, they had little to no sources of income to depend on.
Both husband and wife graduated high school, but they feared that a high school diploma would not get them anywhere. They could not answer where they would source their finances in the future especially since the breadwinner of the family has succumbed to an accident that will render him unable to work in construction sites. He said he did not know how to do anything else because he has been in the field since he graduated high school.
“Umaasa lang kami sa groceries galing sa isa kong kapatid every month. Konti lang pero wala naman kaming magagawa. Buti nagbigay ng tulong kahit papaano,” Punyong sighed with exhaustion.
(We depend on the groceries brought by one of my siblings every month. It is insufficient but we do not know what else to do. At least she provided the help she can give.)
The husband and wife shared their worries on finances and pondered on the possibilities of continuing Punyong’s father’s business — selling dressed chickens — but they gave no certainty. Besides finances, what they were most worried about were their children, especially Kyle.
“Sana naman hindi…” Malou started on the implication of his son’s illness but could not continue.
(I hope it does not end with…)
Death. A word that both husband and wife dare not associate with their first son.
His regrets
“Namimiss ko na si Nanay,” Punyong said and remembered his deceased mother who passed years before. The tears that were brimming earlier in his eyes finally fell. Now he has admitted defeat to his sorrows. This was the first time after months of suffering, his wife mumbled quietly.
(I miss my mother.)
“Ngayong magulang na ako, naiintindihan ko na lahat ng payo niya,” he cried.
(Now that I am a parent, I finally understand all her pieces of advice.)
He said there was no time in his life when his mother was alive that she did not wait for him to go home after his work from the construction sites. He stared into the setting sun while he reminisced. His eyes glistened as he weeped.
“Hindi na lang sana ako nag-asintada,” Punyong lamented, pertaining to following his superior’s order at that time. He was eager to work without much thought because he knew how hard it was to be unemployed because of the pandemic. He now realizes he should have thought things through before acting on the orders. He shook his head and used his arms to cover his eyes.
(I should not have aligned the bricks.)
With all things said, Punyong gives in to the silent thoughts that bothered him from day one. He sobbed.
--
For those who would like to donate to Kyle's family via GCash, you may do so using this number: 09556947336 Benjamin B.
If you would like to donate using other means, contact The Advocate on Facebook (fb.com/TheAdvocateUPB), or Twitter (@TheAdvocateUPB).
Comments