By Ana Santos



Ask a Filipino what he or she loves most about the Philippines, and you’re sure to get a myriad of answers. There’s the white sand beaches with sand as pillow-soft as baby powder, the fantastic shopping in both bargain centers and high-end boutiques, the romantic sunsets, the rugged mountain ranges, etc. The list can go on and on.


And while all those answers are true, if you ask me what I love most about my country, I will tell you that I love our men: our jeepney drivers.

Yes, I am serious.

My friends always tease me about my predilection to what they label as men who are “ers”: drivers, waiters, and blue-collar laborers in general.

They say this is because I’m nice to “ers.” Anywhere I encounter them, I talk to them, I sometimes joke around with them and make small talk.

What they don’t know is that many years ago, back when there was no MRT or FX, I would commute some 15-km every day to the University of the Philippines in Diliman. Since this was back in the day when the EDSA flyovers were being built, this kilometer reading translates to a travel time of about 2 to 2 1/2 hours—each way.

This went on for about four years during which I went through it all the hardships every commuter faces: heat, God-awful rain, waiting at a jeepney stop for long periods of time, pushing and shoving and fighting to get into a jeep when it finally arrived, the smog, the heat (jeepneys are not exactly air-conditioned) and of course, the many stops the jeepneys make along the way, which also may explain my long travel time.

There are many realizations when you ride the jeepney versus riding another form of public transportation like the FX or the MRT, such as:

• Jeepneys are painted with their own unique graffiti that are reflective of Pinoy pop culture like Katas ng Saudi, Laki sa Hirap, Anak Pawis and my all-time favorite: Basta Dryber, Sweet Laber.

• The jeepney’s parallel seating arrangement make you more prone to motion sickness.

• The seat up front next to the driver may be more comfortable because you’re sitting face forward, but it’s extremely cramped; its legroom would make economy class seem like First Class. For anther, it’s also hotter because if I remember right, that’s where something like the battery is located. You know how jeepney drivers always have a towel around their necks? It’s because they literally are sitting in a hot seat.

• People in enclosed air-conditioned cars have no idea how much noise pollution they make when they honk their horns.

But the realization that stuck with me the most was that jeepney drivers, despite their notoriety as bullies lording and dangerously careening over the streets, are really some of the nicest, most generous people I have ever met.

Yes, I have met some.

Countless times, during my 2 to 2 1/2 hour ride to school, I would get to chat with jeepney drivers and talk to them. (I would often scoot myself to the seat right behind the driver or sit up front with them.
Once, I even squeezed myself on the left-hand side of the jeep where the spare tire is.)
They would ask me the usual questions like what school I went to. When I would tell them that I was studying at UP, they would always be instantly impressed, making conclusions about intelligence and academic achievement.

They would also usually ask me what course I was taking. When I’d tell them that I was studying
Journalism, they automatically made predictions about how I was sure to be the next Loren Legarda.
(Before she was a senator, she was an award-winning journalist).

They would assure me that I had a bright future ahead of me and I would downplay these praises in a typical self-effacing manner. I remember one jeepney driver lightly admonishing me for belittling myself, telling me that there was a difference between showing off and simply telling the truth. “Hindi ka naman nagyayabang, nagsasabi ka lang ng totoo. Walang masama dun, [You aren’t being boastful. You’re just telling the truth. No harm in that,]” I remember him saying.

They would tell me that I should study hard and whatever I do, never ever marry a jeepney driver because “mahirap ang buhay. [Life is hard]”

Always, after having chatted with me, they wouldn’t let me pay for my fare. I would insist, but they would just as adamantly refuse my payment and say that saw their own sons/daughters in me and would never ask their kids to pay them for bringing them to school. “Para na din kitang anak, bakit pa kita papabayarin nyan? [You are like a daughter to me. Why would I make you pay?]”

Others would make me promise to study hard, saying that this was payment enough.

“Sige na, galingan mo na lang ang pag-aaral mo. [No need to pay, just study hard.]”

When they would say this to me, I felt that their underlying meaning was that I had a chance at a good future, a better life; and I shouldn’t waste it because others don’t get such chances.

To an impressionable 17-year-old who was not entirely sure what the future held for her, who still questioned her capability and well, just wondered if she could make it in this world, their words of praise, encouragement and wisdom made a great impact.

But what touched me the most was their gift of generosity. They wouldn’t let me pay for my fare saying
that a free ride was the only thing they could give me in exchange for our pleasant conversation.

When you think of how much jeepney drivers make in a day, you would know that every paying passenger matters and that the saying “every centavo counts” takes on a literal meaning. This made their
“simple” gift of a free ride all the more meaningful.

Seventeen years later, though not yet an award-winning journalist, I don’t have to commute anymore.
But I have never forgotten the lessons and the kindness of these jeepney drivers who safely took me to and from school in their jeepneys.

I still wish I could thank them. I never got their names and they probably don’t remember me anymore, anyway. But I wish I could show them that I did study hard and worked even harder to somehow make something of myself and that I, in part, have their faith in me and their kindness to thank for that.

So instead, every time I encounter an “er”: a driver, a waiter or a cab driver, I make it a point to be extra nice to them and talk to them. I show them that I may have my own car now, but I haven’t forgotten the kindness of the many jeepney drivers who treated me to free rides.

So when in Manila, check out our world-famous jeepneys, (the hop-on, hop off versions are now air-conditioned). They are a unique, colorful tourist attraction in themselves. And better yet, don’t miss the chance to chat up the driver and see for yourself why Philippine jeepney drivers belong to their own league of extraordinary gentlemen.

This essay was awarded the First Prize in The WheninManila.com Blogging to be a Pro Contest entitling this writer to a full scholarship to Anton Diaz’s “Maven Secrets, a professional blogging and Internet marketing course at the Asian Institute of Management. This writer is once again, grateful to the jeepney drivers, without whom she would have never been able to get to and from UP.

For more information about Manila’s other equally famous tourist attractions, log onto www.wheninmanila.com. To uncover the maven secret’s to professional blogging and Internet marketing, log onto www.mavensecrets.com.