Standing by
I wish I can tell a story of how I took someone to dinner and had the best Valentine’s Day ever.
But no. I had an elaborate plan: Go home, eat pizza and doughnuts (probably with a couple of beers) while watching my favorite Friday-evening TV show, until I weather the “Day of Hearts.” I made sure to steer clear of what I call “love nests”: shopping malls, restaurants, night-out strips, any public space where there’s a high chance of spotting canoodling couples. Of course, the plan was doomed to fail.
As I board the bus to Bulacan, I see flower bouquets and heart-shaped
balloons peeking from the seats. I resign myself to the fact that I will have to let these people have their precious time on their commute home.
At the bus’ final stop, I transfer to a jeepney that will take me to my little town. Most everyone knows that a jeepney is one of the most awkward public spaces. Two rows of seats face each other: You are at once shoulder-to-shoulder and face-to-face with strangers.
Just my luck, I find a seat facing a couple with entwined arms. The woman is around 30, dark, with medium-length hair. She has a tattoo on her left foot, which I first think is a splotch of mud. The man is about the same age, burly, wearing trekking sandals. If it isn’t Valentine’s Day I won’t guess that they have come from a date because they’re not looking very happy.
Five minutes into the trip I begin to hear heightened voices despite my earphones, mainly from the man. I avert my eyes; I don’t particularly want to witness couple drama tonight.
A few minutes more and I see from the corner of my eye that the man is forcing the woman to keep entwining her arms with his, even though she evidently does not want to. He asks, with unconcealed irritation, what she is being “maarte” (fussy) about. And I’m wearing earphones.
I throw quick glances at the couple, banking on the Filipino concept of “hiya” (shame). If the man starts noticing that people are aware of their ruckus, maybe he’ll stop harassing the woman. Maybe he’ll stop making everyone uncomfortable, most especially his partner. I can tell that the woman is getting hurt, but I can’t bring myself to step in and call out the man for his unacceptable behavior. I hope that someone, anyone, will intervene at that moment, but no one says a word.
In psychology there’s a phenomenon called “bystander effect,” in which people stand by and do not offer any help to another person in trouble. Tonight I am one of at least nine people in the jeepney who are witnessing a woman being forced to do what she does not want to do, and doing nothing.
I have only read of similar incidents, extreme ones, in books and newspapers. There’s the story of Kitty Genovese of New York. More than 50 years ago, she was stabbed to death in a street where neighbors could have seen her. It was reported that 38 people were aware of the attack, but did not go out of their way to help Kitty. A neighbor said he just did not want to get involved.
There’s another story, of the Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer Kevin Carter, who took the famous picture of an emaciated African girl lying on the ground, with a stout vulture hovering, waiting for her to die. It was said that after taking the shot Carter chased the vulture away, but just let the girl crawl toward a feeding center.
Anyway. The man and woman alight from the jeepney. I imagine all sorts of scenarios that can happen when they get home. Maybe they will make up, and they will remember this year’s Valentine’s Day as a minor bump in their relationship. Maybe someone will see them arguing, and call the man out. Or maybe… I can’t bring myself to think of the unhappy alternatives.
I wish I can tell a story about an awesome Valentine’s Day, but I guess I am left with stories of a couple in a jeepney, Kitty Genovese, the little African girl—and people who just stood by.
Mark Anthony Pascual, 22, is a researcher. He studied psychology at the University of the Philippines Diliman.
