The summer we will remember
We already had plenty of plans for the first summer of the decade.
We were supposed to climb Mt. Ulap in Benguet and pitch our tent near its summit, where we could probably observe the night sky in all its splendor and glory while the fragrance of pine trees and cold breeze enveloped us. We already imagined ourselves savoring a cheesy warm shawarma on Session Road in Baguio City after spending hours probably trying shoes and “ukay-ukay” jackets from the city’s famous night market.
But then COVID-19 happened, altering our lives
forever.I remember it was still early February, but my students and I had already talked about their graduation songs. Everyone’s excitement was palpable because vacation was just around the corner.
Fortunately, we were asked to schedule the final examinations of our learners a week early because of the possibility of having the country locked down due to the rising number of COVID-19 cases. The following week, the enhanced community quarantine (ECQ) for the island of Luzon was announced, and with it came the importance of physical distancing and staying at home.
Planning for the graduation ceremony all of a sudden felt inconsequential. Wishing for an early vacation seemed to have lost all its glamour. Praying for everyone’s safety and health became paramount.
Then summer arrived. It has always been a busy season for my hometown, as we have white and golden sand beaches with marvelous orange hues and shades of sunsets, rock formations million years old, and many other attractions to offer. But not this year.
In this time of health crisis, not everyone is privileged to just stay at home, though. Some of us have to be frontliners. Others would risk going out not just to buy essentials, but also to earn money to support and sustain the needs of their families. Yes, there are hard-headed Filipinos, but there are many more who simply lack the opportunities and resources to support their families in these trying times; they have hands hardened and calloused by arduous labor, but they still feel pangs of hunger.
There are probably people out there whose unrelenting apprehension is brought about by the imminent presence of hunger and sickness, and there are also people who have the lowest level of consciousness about this situation and are even proud of their callousness.
When all of this is over, may people realize that hunger is also an enemy, and it kills, too.
As the call for a sense of urgency and competence from our leaders intensifies along with the call for free mass testing to flatten the curve, it is important that, in the future, the government should invest in a strong healthcare system and our medical practitioners are appreciated, so we are ready when another invisible enemy arrives uninvited.
When this is over, the love of my life and I will still climb Mt. Ulap and enjoy our shawarma on Session Road. I would still want to see how my learners would perform their graduation songs.
As I stare at the wide backyard of our house, an idea comes to mind. Let me grab some sticks, a pair of scissors, and last year’s calendar, hoping the kite-flying skills I learned 15 years ago haven’t left me. If they have, I can try to climb the mango trees instead.
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Jackson G. Orlanda, 25, is a public elementary school teacher in Bolinao, Pangasinan. He is a graduate student in language and literacy education at the University of the Philippines.
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