Two Years and Misinterpretations

Last year, I marked my milestone of my first year in Ilocos Sur wth 100 Lessons Learned, in photos and one-liners. I did not know how to write my feelings down as raw that time, I was afraid I would be misinterpreted. I always am, ever since I learned to talk. But given that I am to conduct myself in a manner 'acceptable' and 'becoming' my position, I always have to exert effort to restrain myself from, for example, yelling until my lungs burst, in frustration; or to let out my witch-like cackle loudly until my eyes tear up, in joy. With this job, I need to be steady and balanced. Or at least project a semblance of that.

So I will, in three points, add to those 100 lessons, as part of my version of a sustainability plan (or the points I need to always, always remember to 'aid' me in 'sustaining' this momentum, whether lackluster or excellent, I do not intend to render myself that judgement).

First, I will say this with all humility aside, this job made me a public figure. I cringe at the facebook pages where some wannabe model, host or intellectual would note 'public figure' as a description or tagline under her or his name. I wrote, DAR, Philippines below my name, well, because that is where I actually work and most of life is spent with DAR. But I learn of people following my posts on this platform, some to appreciate the meaningful sharings I impart (wink-wink), the rest simply snoop. From their snooping, you will find that a new spin is made on your post the following day in the office or that someone has become so obssessed with me that I am imitated (read: my clothes, my bags, my poses, my background in pictures, etc.), really. I am not flattered, I am amused. Oh, I am watched everyday, too. Not only in this social media platform. Some ask where I am, what I am doing, what my mood is today, where I ate, 'Did she drive herself to work today, alone?', you know, the stuff 'tsismis' is made of. Lately, quietly, people are peering through their own imaginary curtains that they put up in the guise that they do not care,  expecting me to fall apart. When they see me smile, they are confused. When they see me serious and sad, they are also confused. 

Second, I am going to be always misinterpreted. I remember the time I was asked permission by my staff if they could hold a bible study in the office, just for a few minutes, after the regular Monday morning assembly of employees. Of course I said ok. Yet the fact they asked me I felt, meant that they are kinda hesitant to do that because it might offend me? So after that bible study, I went out to the assembly and said my piece: 'I have the privilege of worshipping whom I want to, you should have the same. It is just that my faith is between me and my God. I don't really talk about it. It is something very personal and intimate for me, like sex.' All their jaws dropped. So, instead of clarifying my position about faith, I muddled their minds about my character further. The same is true with my kindness. I will stop short of simply saying that,  because again, I might be misinterpreted. 

Third, as in any experience in everyday life, we all learn and we don't stop doing so. There are moments, honestly, when I ask myself how I survived this seemingly ungrateful, thankless, demanding, demeaning job. This is a job where you do 99 things correctly, but crucifies you for that one thing you did not. This work jettisoned me to a kingdom far, far away from my kids but oh, the bosses don't look at it as a 'biggie'. Civil service is when you want to do good, but the system you work within does not allow you to. It gives you barely enough room to breathe, and to top that, throw you in the middle of a maze where you need to find your way out on your own, or you are trapped. 

So, one might ask, why don't I get out of the job? My answer to that is this: this is my life. I put one foot forward two decades back and have not stopped walking then. I walked this trecherous path where I found treasures and stepped on landmines. I was flashed with sincere and grateful smiles by farmers and their families. I was thrown with mud by the people both in the inside and out, with the bits and pieces of information they themselves cannot comprehend, yet they throw mud just the same, because they get satisfaction from that, and get paid for it to boot. I was embraced by an employee to whom I gave a few hundred of pesos to buy milk for an 'apo', or to pay tuition for a son in college who was not allowed to take midterm exams, or I was showered with gifts of food and vegetables by a colleague for whom I signed as guarantor for a six-figure hospital bill, even if I did not know where to get the money from when it would be time to pay, but hell, we needed to get the remains of his child who passed away, from the morgue. I was sneered at, ridiculed, laughed at, even with my good intentions, because I was not upright and moral in their books.

 But I have seen enough to make me want to do more, because through the eyes of my farmers and my collagues, I saw this light in their souls, burning for me. I go towards that light, wherever it may take me.