Remembering Jesse

I found myself standing over the edge of a cliff, overlooking a vast sea of nothingness. The cold breeze swept past me with a gentle touch sending shivers down my spine. From a distance, I can hear the sound of mumbling and shuffles. They were like crashing waves from far away. Despite the eerie atmosphere, I found myself tempted by darkness' embrace. To just let go and stay this way forever.

"Sir?" said an ominous voice from the heavens.

I was rattled and confused. Unable to understand what was going on.

"Sir?" repeated the strange, feminine voice.

It was then that I felt it. A nudge. A push. I found myself tumbling over the edge of the cliff I was standing on. I fell in the darkness. The air rushed through me as I plummet down into the abyss. As I finally saw the sight of the ground, I woke up.

"Oh, my God! I am sorry! Uhm! I just wanted to ask for some directions."

As my eyes started to adjust and regain focus, I realized that I fell asleep on the job. With a little shake of the head and a rub on the back of my neck, I stood up from the concrete bench I was on then faced the origin of the voice. "I am sorry about that!" I said, smiling. "It's been a tough day."

"Again, I am really sorry! I just haven't seen any of the organizers around, and we wanted to ask if the doors are still open?" The 'ominous' voice that has invaded my dream was actually from a reporter. She was a young Caucasian lady in a polo shirt and jeans. A man behind her carried quite a bit of recording equipment; some labeled with their news outlet's logo. It's quite strange to see international correspondents like them in a place like this. Covering the wake of a man who most people would never have bothered to know just a few months ago.

I looked at my watch and scanned the area. There's still quite a lot of people in the line headed up the basilica. My team isn't around as well. I requested them off for dinner and a bit of rest while I took over ushering duties. No wonder these reporters had no choice but to wake me up. I looked back at the lady, smiled, and assured them that the wake is still open.

Two of the other volunteers conveniently arrived back at our station. I asked them to stay put and cover for me for a bit as I show the reporters the way. They nodded, and I offered to escort the reporters to the basilica. With a gesture of my hand, showing them the way, we proceeded to walk.

The Basilica of Our Lady Of Peñafrancia is one of the biggest churches in the region. Major Catholic events are celebrated here each year in front of thousands. All in praise of the Lady of Peñafrancia. The region's foremost religious Patroness. Its facade includes a sizable stained glass of Mary as the Lady Of Peñafrancia. Tonight, it shined and shimmered among the many lights. In front of the basilica is an open ground where people gather. There are quite a bit of people still on the grounds. Eating, praying, sharing stories, or watching an endless loop of documentaries on the big screen erected in the park.

"Must be an incredibly famous man to have to go out with a crowd like this?" says the man carrying the equipment. I chuckled for a bit as we walked closer to the church's entrance.

"If you have been here in the past few days, tonight is nothing. This place was packed! Though famous isn't a word I'd use for him," I retorted.

The man looked at me, puzzled. I smiled back.

"I am willing to bet most of these people never even heard of him before all this, but that's not necessarily a bad thing, though,"  I told them.

"Why is that?" said the lady, panting.

"Here lies a man who spent his life serving his people without the need for attention or recognition. It's only fair that everyone finally recognizes him for all that he has done,' I explained.

"He is a politician, right? Isn't that a bit contradictory?" Asked the lady.

"Oh, yeah. It's likely a career suicide for most. Not him, though. He still kept winning," I answered with a smile.

As we arrived in front of the basilica doors, I asked them to stay for a bit while I talk to one of the organizers inside. The inside of the basilica was bright and filled with people lining up. They were all to pay respect to Jesse. Honor guards at his side and beneath the altar to the Peñafrancia, whom he has religiously dedicated himself to all his life.

I waved and asked the journalists to come inside. I told them that one of the organizers would be helping them take footage and get interviews. Smiling, they both said their thanks, and I went back outside.

By the steps of the basilica, I stood and stared at the open space in front of me, where people from all over gathered to pay their respects to Jesse Robredo. The beloved mayor of Naga City and the former Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG) Secretary of the country. It's been a crazy week being one of the volunteers in his wake. I haven't had any sleep in days, and most of those times I spent here are either standing up or walking around. Yet, I never once felt the urge to complain or even get tired. I knew from the start why I signed up for this and who I am doing it for.

There were a bunch of people sitting together on the steps. Talking loudly and sometimes laughing. It wasn't a rowdy crowd, but they were like a group of friends sharing stories. I decided to walk closer and listen. I was hoping to hear a great story from them. They saw me and respectfully waved at me to come and join them. It was like a circle of eight to ten people, all talking about their experiences with the late Jesse Robredo.

"One time, I was joking around and asked him if he could buy me something. He did! But only a 10 Peso worth of bread!"

Everyone in the circle laughed.

"Yeah! I have always heard he was a cheapskate." says one of them.

It's not surprising that all of them have something to say about Jesse. The man always seems to be around. Despite his station in life, you'll likely find him walking around the city in his slippers and his "incredibly plain" fashion choices. That's why almost everybody has a story about him. That's why they loved him. You could live your life in some other town without even seeing the mayor. Here, you could see him walking around the market like some random husband forced by his wife to buy groceries. He won the people's respect that way. An elected official should always be the people's representative. He perfectly embodies that ideal.

"She's a devotee of the 'Ina' too! Always takes part in the processions each year," said another man.

"You know, I've been with him in the processions once..." replied another.

"Ina" or mother is the term used to denote Mary as the Lady of Peñafrancia. As the topic shifted into Jesse's devotion to the Peñafrancia, I stood there silent and stared at the sky. Reminiscing the days, we crossed paths.

Viva!

The chanting only grew louder as the Penafrancia's pagoda came closer and closer to where I was standing. Thousands, if not tens of thousands, take part in what is called the Traslacion Procession during Naga City's biggest celebration of the year: The Peñafrancia Festival. It's where the icon of the Peñafrancia is loaded on top of a pagoda and taken through the streets to a cathedral on the other side of the city. It's where she will stay for most of the week long celebrations. Along the way, thousands of people flock around the traveling pagoda creating a seemingly endless sea of people.

There was pushing, shoving, and risking life and limb just to be near their beloved Patroness. These devotees are called Voyadors. It is said that any Voyador who can cross the sea of human beings and touch the pagoda will be granted a boon. A wish that could come true. Some do it as a challenge, while others as a way to show gratitude. Some are simply happy to accompany the pagoda to its destination, like a dutiful son escorting his mother to church on a Sunday. As for me, it was my first year as a Voyador. My goals? To see what it was all about and take pictures.

I found myself standing on the street barefoot as tradition dictated. Along with me were other Voyadors. I was eagerly anticipating the arrival of the pagoda, which was just a few hundred meters away. I've heard nightmare stories about this. People were passing out, bloody feet, and broken bones. It was not for the faint of heart. Yet there are I was standing ready as the massive sea of human beings comes inching closer and closer into our direction.

I was holding my smartphone, which was then my camera of choice. I was trying to brace myself for the oncoming onslaught when I saw an opportunity to take a photo of the pagoda. It was the perfect shot, I told myself. So just as the mass of people came closer, I raised my phone to snap a photo when suddenly a group of men wearing black shirts came running from behind—all shouting to clear the way. One of them ran into me as they charged ahead. I lost my balance and tumbled forward with my head hitting the asphalt. I found myself on the ground. The chanting is starting to get louder. The pagoda was getting closer. As I opened my eyes, I saw people running and jumping over me. Funny enough, my first instinct was to find. I saw it glimmer just an arm's length away. The marching is getting closer. I reached for my phone and grabbed at the cost of my hand getting stepped on. I pulled my arms close. I knew by then that I needed to stand or crawl away, but my body felt too battered to move. It might have been too late.

Then an arm grabbed me by the chest from behind. I felt it secure its grip and quickly jerked me up. As I felt myself get lifted, my legs knew what to do and jump into a standing position. I breathed hard and let out a cough. I felt someone brushing my shoulders and my back. I turned around.

It was Jesse.

At that time, I thought he was just some random stranger who helped me up. As I turned to face him, he looked me in the eye and gave a warm, playful smile.

"Are you okay? " he asked.

"Yes. I got caught up with some people and tripped over" I replied.

"I am sorry," he said humbly. "I grabbed you as soon as I could. Please don't get them wrong. They are good people", he followed up, smiling.

"No. It's okay! I am just glad I am standing up again!" I said while awkwardly smiling.

He smiled in return, tapped me on the shoulder, and nodded. "Viva!" he said. He started walking back, gave me another smile, and waved before he disappeared into the crowd. I decided that despite what happened, I'll still push on and enter this sea of blood, sweat, and tears. I braced myself and ran towards the crowd.

I was not able to touch the pagoda that year, and my body was beaten up after being tossed around while inside the crowd. When I finally got out and back into peaceful territory, I saw the man again. This time he was playing around with a bunch of what I thought was his friends. He was smiling, laughing, and giving random strangers high-fives. People would walk close to him for a handshake, and some even got a hug. I knew from the attention he was getting that he was not an ordinary person. Some people would shout, "Jesse!" or "Sec!" as they passed by. He would make funny faces and wave at random people. As he was on my way, I ended up walking close to his location. As I passed by, I looked at him just to see what he was doing.

To my surprise, he was looking at me with that smile on his face. He nodded to acknowledge my presence while I awkwardly raised my right arm to wave, which he also did in response. It was bizarre. After the procession was over I headed home. I was on a call with my mother. Out of the blue, I asked her if the name "Jesse" or "Sec" ringed any bells. That's when I realized who I bumped into. My mother replied:

"Yes! Jesse Robredo? He's the DILG secretary. He is a devotee."

Chance Encounter

Over the next few months, I ended up being quite interested in Jesse. I read what I can about how he helped turned the city around. I have listened to stories about him from the city folk. My curiosity about the man stems from my own personal doubts about him. In a cutthroat business of politics, can someone really survive while maintaining his principles? Is this all a show so people can vote for him? I just couldn't believe someone of his caliber can be decent or even honest. As my doubts for the man grew, so are the opportunities that proved me wrong show themselves to me.

I would see him walking around far more often. Sometimes in plain house clothes. There are times I saw him chatting it up with the people on some random street corner. These discussions were not even about politics. They were just conversations about how their lives were, what's going on at the street level or what's good for dinner. I have never seen him in a car or fancy clothes. I even saw him ride pedicab once and I think the driver even offered that for free. He would wave, smile, and even hug people as if they were family. After a while, I gave in to the idea that he may just be a really good person. Someone who genuinely believes the people of Naga City are his family. He somehow understood and is humble enough to know that he is nothing without the trust of these people.

By then, I started hoping to meet him in person. To ask him questions about how he is able to do all these things or maybe just a casual conversation about life. I thought of how cool it would be to be mentored by someone like him. I have been in multiple situations where I would have met him but life always got in the way. Until that one chance encounter.

If there's a place in Naga City that people usually find me it's the local Starbuck's Cafe. I would spend hours there drinking coffee, working, or writing journals. It's a cozy little place away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

"Signature Hot Chocolate, Anthony!" yelled the Barista.

It was early evening and there's quite a crowd inside the cafe. I walked over the counter to get my drink. I had little chat with the barista since I do consider them as friends. When I turned around to head back to my seat, I saw Jesse standing behind me. He looked at me at smiled with a hint of nodding. The randomness of it all shocked my system to a halt. All I could do was awkwardly smile back and nod. I walked past him and say on my table.

He grabbed his drink and looked around. It seems he was looking for a seat. All the tables are taken. He could just leave but he was not. "I could offer him this other seat on my table", I whispered to myself but my shyness prevented me from acting. A couple who's about to head home eventually offered their table by the barista counter to him. "Another missed opportunity," I told myself.

As one door closes, another opens as the saying goes. I may not have offered him a seat but he sitting on his table alone. That could be a chance for me to talk to him. It doesn't have to be long. Just a few casual conversations would suffice. Getting my foot on the door as you will. For a few minutes, I struggled to force myself to stand. I even walked up close to him only to walk past and walk straight into the bathroom.

"I have to do this" I told myself. "I am gonna walk towards him, introduce myself, initiate a conversation!"

I breathe in. I breathe out. On the third breath, I stood up and walked towards his table only to realize, he is gone. Disappointed, I went back to my table. I gathered all my things, got my backpack, and waved at the hardworking barista friends of mine goodbye. I was disappointed at myself for not taking the chances I got. A problem I'll always have to face.

I headed out into the sidewalk with a big sigh. I reached inside my backpack to find my earphones only to find it missing. I scratched my head. I can't afford to buy a new one. I dug deeper into my bag hopelessly trying to find the earpiece inside. Then, I heard a familiar voice from behind.

"Noy, you dropped this" says Jesse as he handed my earphones over.

I was speechless and for a few seconds, I just stared at him. All he did during that was give me a smile.

"Thank you, sir! I never thought I'd find it. I can't really afford to buy one!" I told him, awkwardly laughing.

"I am glad I picked it up then". he said.

"Are you a student?" Jesse asked.

"Yes, I am sir" I replied.

He looked over to the road then back to me.

"How is it?" he asked.

"I am okay. Just a little tired at worrying where I'll end up after all this". As soon as those words went out of my mouth I felt that I may have spoken too much. I tried to take back my statement in a very awkward manner.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to bring that out. You have better things to think about".

Jesse laughed. His eyes were in a happy squint. I awkwardly laughed along. As the laughter died he reached out over to my right shoulder, tapped it, and rested his hands over it.

"Take your time. You'll find it someday. You'll be okay"

I was humbled by his advice. That was when I knew he was the real deal. That it wasn't a persona but simply who he is as a person. I gave him a warm smile.

"Thank you, sir Jesse" I told him sincerely.

He nodded. As usual.

"I have to go, sir," I told him as I slowly backed away.

"Goodnight!" he said while waving his hand.

I turned back and walked away smiling. One door closes, another opens.

Paying Respects

I stared at the TV for the past few hours. Though most of it was just white noise. All I really did was get lost in my thoughts. The news came out of nowhere. and without warning. Everyone was scrambling for details. Jesse's dead. I just couldn't believe it. The man I started looking up to was lost. Taken too soon.

I got wind that he will be taken home. To be buried in the city he loved dearly. I heard people were starting to organize groups that would facilitate the upcoming state funeral for him. With his works finally starting to hit mainstream media, people were expected to come in droves. I got into contact with an organizer, signed myself up, and the next day, I was hard at work preparing for the funeral.

We were the ones who first saw Jesse before the wake was opened to the public. It was a surreal and devastating moment for everyone involved. Soon, VIPs started pouring in. Politicians, celebrities, and other famous personalities. I met a lot of them. In another situation, I would have been starstruck being in a place with the nation's elites. I never felt that way though. All I ever thought about was how I could serve Jesse just as he served all of us.

The gates finally opened for the public. It was a massive undertaking to get things working. Thousands attended the wake. All lining up to say their goodbyes. Thousands more are on the way. The long lines were endless and went on non-stop both in the day and at night. Massive demonstrations dedicated to Jesse happened on the streets outside the small chapel where the wake was initially set up. The entire streets were closed off.  The city of Naga was on a standstill. There was nothing else on the news but the death of Jesse. It was nice for the world to finally recognize him but it would have been nice if it wasn't this way.

Taking part felt like a duty for me. I had to do it. It was my own way of showing gratitude for everything that he has done for the city, the country, and me. I remember going to school in the morning. After that, I'll take a nap after for an hour then head back into my team to facilitate the never ending queue of people paying their respects. I did that for more than a week. Friends would ask me why I do it. I could have just participated for a day then left. The truth is, I don't know. I just had this sense of duty. A compulsion to help Jesse and his family get through these hard times even if it's just facilitating the wake. It was the least that I could do. 

Farewell

Jesse was eventually taken to the basilica a few days before he gets buried. It was in these few days that were the most emotional. People would camp out on its grounds overnight just watching documentaries played on the big screen. You'll see people crying. The old ones telling stories about Jesse were the most moving. The long lines still went on. People still couldn't believe he is gone.

"Jesse was a great man," says one man.

I suddenly found myself back in the discussion group. The doors will officially close to the public in less than an hour. I continued listening. Then a man from the back of the group spoke. From the way he looked, he was not the storytelling type. He was silent throughout the whole discussion. 

"Jesse was not just a great man. He was a kind man. The man from behind exclaimed. He walked with his crooked leg in front of everyone and continued his tale.

"Jesse would come to our barangay and people would flock him. I don't. I just stayed on the side in silence like I always did all my life but Jesse... Jesse will always notice me. He would walk to me and put his arms on my shoulders and ask me how I was. He did that every single time". The man started tearing up. 

"Nobody noticed me. I am just an arm less man with a crooked leg. I am nobody. No one greets me. Nobody asked me if I am going hungry or if I needed help but Jesse did. Always," He raised his amputated left arm to show it to us. People in the circle started clearing their eyes while the man finally wept as he continued on. 

"When I asked for help, he gave it. When I gave him something as thanks, he took them and tells me how good it was the next time he dropped by. With him, I never felt like a burden. When the world ignored me. He didn't. Now, I'll never get to see him again and I only hope that he could hear me right now. To let him know how much I am grateful!"

The man started weeping in front of everyone. All of us there had tears in our eyes. At that moment, I saw something I thought I'd never see in my whole life. Everyone stood up and went to the weeping man and hugged him. They all wept together. Assuring one another that Jesse is in a much better place now. I have met no one who was capable of uniting strangers together as if they all belonged in one family. They just stood there. Shoulder to shoulder. whispering encouragement. This was Jesse's greatest accomplishment. This was his legacy.

I walked inside the basilica shortly afterward. Aside from the honor guards, it was only me and Jesse. The public viewing has stopped and the church will now close in preparation for tomorrow's funeral. I told Jesse about what have happened outside. I told him about the things that happened during the past week. I told him of the people I have met who shared in his ideals. I told him of how sad I was that I never got to have another conversation with him. I thanked him for being such an inspiration. For proving to me that in a world filled people who do bad things, you chose to do the right ones. Something I will always try to do. 

The church doors started to close. 

I then told him my farewells and promise that the next time we meet, I'll make sure that we have lots to talk about.