January 2010 Archives

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Kid Crutch

Broken Third World

“Okay, Anna. You want something specific? Let’s talk about some civic development plan to ‘improve Filipino lives’. Its cost estimates at fifty million, but your government quotes seventy-five. Why? Some king pin and his greedy little minions bag millions worth of kickback, while the rest of the money goes to substandard pieces of crap that’ll break down and never work again. You see? Broken. Not just the equipment—it’s the government, the system, the country. Broken.”

“Archie, people can change things. And we are trying.”

“Like what, get a bunch of angry citizens and rally around Congress screaming ‘Reform!’ You know what you are? Noise. You’ll just piss people off because traffic’s all snarled-up, and now everyone’s putting up with that who-the-hell-cares crap you’re all bitching about.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. “Like I said, people try. And it’s difficult, given the system. But Archie, you’re different. Your dad, for instance, and the people he knows.”

“The people he knows?” He studied me, his expression slowly turning sour. He then shook his head and turned away.

“I recall one of those ‘people dad knows’, on a national campaign here in the nineties. Mom and I were with that guy in one of his rallies, when this crippled street kid approached him and started aggressively asking for something. There was a ruckus, and the politician’s security guys pulled the kid away. As the kid was removed from the place, the politician said to his aide, ‘That urchin’s lucky he’s handicapped, else I’d have both his legs broken.’

“Later on, I left the rally and smoked by the sidewalk. I noticed the crippled boy with a group of street kids. I fished out some coins for them, and asked the kid why he was handicapped. He told me his mother broke his leg, so he’d be more effective at begging.”

“I wanted to talk to him further, but the stoplights turned red, and one kid shouted, ‘Let’s go!’ They suddenly ran to the stopped cars, skipping and laughing like they were off to the carnival. The crippled boy picked up his crutches, hooked his withered leg to a prop, and ambled his way to the others.”

“I was watching them tap on the windows of posh sedans, begging for money from indifferent faces, when one of the security guys went up to me and said I should return to the rally.”

Archie was silent for many moments.

“You know what I did for those kids, Anna?”

“You helped them.”

“You think I’d help them. And then I’d help their families, their friends, their friends’ families, the whole damn community.” He sighed in exasperation. “No. I just went back to the rally, the colorful banners, that nameless crowd, and all those heartfelt words and drama pouring off that politician’s stage. ‘Help them’—and I’ll be the f*cking promise of the Third World.”