‘Kuya’ Iyo
A 52-year-old man and an 11-year-old girl.
Kuya Iyo was 52 when we first met seven years ago during my first year in high school. He was the service driver assigned to our house, and despite his age, he was actually so much smaller than me even as an 11-year-old kid back then (I was 5-foot-2).
If you’re curious as to what he looks like, just imagine Apo Hiking Society’s Boboy Garrovillo and you already have a mental image of Kuya Iyo. We liked to tease him about it as a joke, along with his small height, but they do really look alike to the point of being twins.
We teased Kuya Iyo a lot. From shouting his real name, Basilio, exaggeratedly as if we’re Narcisa, to jokingly giving him dirty looks whenever he tried to tell a dad joke. Every after class, Kuya Iyo would bring us to the tiny food vendors just in front of our school to eat and every time, without fail, he would pay for it.
Oftentimes it was just junk foods and soft drinks, but he would also treat us to Jollibee, McDonald’s, and sometimes even samgyup (the ones where it’s P549 per head). And because he always treated us with food, the amount he spent on us was incredibly greater than the P2,000 per person we paid for his monthly service. He was definitely “luging-lugi” in terms of money.
Kuya Iyo did not have the chance to go to college. In high school, he was already failing his grades. I even saw one of his old report cards and could not believe how low the numbers were.
He jokes that the only way he got to graduate high school was by flirting with his teachers (he always tells this with conviction to the point that I started to believe it might be real if not for his tendencies to make up stories about his life). It was 1983 when he graduated high school, and at a time when K-12 was still not a thing, he graduated much later than his peers at 19.
Along with his failing grades, he also did not have the financial means to pursue higher education. He told me that graduating high school was already such a blessing for someone who struggled to pay for the yearly tuition by borrowing money. And so, he started working as an electrician at 19 after three months of nonformal education in practical electricity.
Two years later, at 21, his first child was born. Now having another human to feed, Kuya Iyo was forced to look for another job to sustain all the needs of his growing family. He started working as a driver, alongside being an electrician, for multiple clients before ending up as a service driver at our school.
As someone who was continuously on the receiving end of his generosity and kindness, I was not entirely aware of how hard his life circumstances were. I was young and the depths of my understanding hadn’t comprehended how much sacrifice and hardships he had to go through because he was always so kind to us—always treating us with food, accompanying me to far places without asking for gas money, listening to my rants, and even going with me on morning walks because I had no other person to ask. I had no idea how hard he had to live in order to be able to give back kindness to the world as freely as he does.
Thirty years. He only told me now that only after 30 long years, at 51 years old, was he able to live a comfortable life. I met him at 52, only after a year of him finally being able to be released from all the financial stress he endured during his life until then. And because of his efforts, he was able to send his four kids to college until they successfully graduated, an experience he never got to live.
Whenever I look back on my high school years, I think about Kuya Iyo with so much love and fondness. He was so patient, so kind. His experiences made him move through the world with so much kindness and love for people. And this kindness supported me throughout all the low moments I’ve experienced in life.
During my depressive days, my thoughts would often go to wanting to leave this world early, but just the thought of Kuya Iyo being utterly sad by my passing was enough for me to live through the day and wake up for another tomorrow. His kindness was my saving grace.
He was more than a service driver to me. He’s one of my best friends. If blood ties did not matter, I would call him my father.
Through his own struggles and sacrifices, he was able to exemplify resilience and kindness and that kindness became a source of strength for me in navigating my own life. The memories of our time together constantly remind me that compassion and empathy truly go a long way in creating a legacy of love and support. Because of Kuya Iyo, I am able to live, be kind, and spread love to the world.
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Anna Franceska Correo, 18, is a student at De La Salle University. She is a cat lover with a great passion for the arts.
