Change of heart: Miracle at the MRT
There’s a miracle happening in Manila that needs to be studied by sociologists immediately. The nature of which is so baffling, it left me momentarily scratching my head like a baboon, but not long enough to ruin the moment of astonishment at the rapid and random shift in societal behavior.
It’s a meager sign of hope that is telling of what kind of people we can be, or perhaps what we were all along. Are you ready?
Some women in the MRT station have begun — gasp — forming lines! And they are doing it out of their own free will.
No signs commanding, “Please form a line.” No pickets to keep people in place. No guard blowing his whistle, lazily ordering women to stay in line. Just a neat and orderly discipline, two straight lines for each cart, so naturally, as if we’ve been doing it all along.
If you don’t ride the MRT, you should know that this display of behavior is unquestionably astounding. The MRT is a mean place. In fact, it’s the only place in this city where I can rid myself of all politeness and integrity. It’s a pain in the ass during rush hour, and if you don’t know the tricks to survival it could take hours before you effectively reach your destination. There’s no space for nicety or manners, heck, there’s no space for people. It’s nose-to-nose, armpits to face, and boob-to-boob action. That packed, that tight, those long lines.
Street Smart
Despite the agonizing process, I wear my commuter’s badge of honor with pride. This damn train and the women I ride with taught me some valuable lessons:
Push. Whether the woman next to you is pregnant, or hand-carrying a large delicate box of cake, nobody gives a rat’s ass. If you don’t fend for yourself, you aren’t going anywhere. The world is not always kind, and if you don’t push hard, and sometimes impolitely enough, you might not get what you’ve set out for.
Cheat. If it means sneaking in through the side doors, cutting the line or not giving space for other people to get in when there is obviously enough space in the middle of the train (because you need to get out on the next stop), do it.
Talk dirty. “Please” and “Thank you” have no value in the MRT. People are tired, angry and impatient. Sometimes, things need to be said brutally to get the point across. “Sabing makikiraan po eh!” “Aray! Mga nanunulak kasi eh!” “Excuse may lalabas daw!”
Sure, they aren’t decent lessons. They’re anti-lessons, they’re just wrong. But equip yourself with them and you will be fine. The MRT brings out the horrendous, feisty side of Filipino women you’d rather keep tucked in. Hell hath no fury like a tired, hard-working Pinay who just wants to go home. Women’s carts can be so aggressive that my friend Aimee told me sometimes she rides the men’s carts, because at least men are too shy to push a girl.
This is why it is so difficult to fathom the sudden phenomenon of discipline at the MRT station. It doesn’t jibe. It’s an impossible thought. No clamoring, no pushing, no fighting. What the hell, how did this happen? What’s going on here? Women are chit-chatting and laughing.
We can assume that the trend is buoyed by that innate “hiya” factor. “What? A line? Fine, I guess I’ll form a line too.” But it’s almost hard to believe that we actually have it in us. We can do it, and we can do it without being told.
You can’t help but wonder, what else are we capable of doing? It is crazy and totally random moments like these, small glimmers of hope that keep us holding on to the people of this country.
Maybe men will stop peeing on the streets. Maybe taxi drivers will be more accommodating. Maybe our film industry will produce better films. Maybe politicians will stop stealing. Maybe we’re dreaming.
But the above-mentioned change of behavior in our railway transit is definitely not a dream, it’s very much real. Which is why I’m dying to know, who started it? Where did it begin? Why did it only happen now? How did it spread?
And the most puzzling question looming in my head: Why is it only happening in the women’s carts?
