Joey Alexis Singh, Philippines
It was a little late after lunch — a little late for the adobo or sinigang, but maybe not for the last bowl of dinuguan resting on top of the empty counter. The mistress of the small-town canteen has already finished wiping the pots clean. She’s now resting by an armchair listening to a radio drama. Thankfully, they served pansit variants throughout the day.
I ordered my go-to pansit bihon, while my partner had the famous lomi ng Batangas double toppings. We were the only ones eating at the canteen when an old man walked in and helped himself to a table. He had gray hair, black-stained clothes from road fumes, grease covering his body, and dirt buried under his nails. He held a small plastic bag with leftover food. His eyes looked sharp, his posture shrieked rigidness — we all knew he’s not going anywhere and that he’s not expected to be there — but it was the old man’s silence that filled the room.
The mistress commanded him to leave. She took a baton and knocked it repeatedly on a nearby table, just loud enough to establish her authority in the house but also gentle enough not to evoke violence. He remained seated and unshaken even as my partner politely asked him “brother, please leave.”
Joey Banana Plant (Taal Lake, Batangas)
The mistress’s son walked towards the counter and took out a pot. “Rice?” he asked the old man, handing him some wrapped in a plastic bag, assuming that now he would leave, but the old man wanted the last bowl of dinuguan to pair with the rice which the mistress’ son wordlessly gave him. We all thought he was finally going to leave after receiving the food, but he went straight by the corner to get a spoon and fork. For the first time he uttered something to himself; we could barely hear, but I believe he said “Kakain ako dito, akala niyo ba?” (I will eat here, don’t you think?). And so, we all let him eat in peace.
At one point he looked around and our gaze met as our tables were adjacent to each other. We recognized each other’s hunger, that in time turns into fullness of the body, a power to one’s spirit. I continued to eat and finish my pansit, while he took a bite from his food with dignity, just like anyone else in their uniforms who came by the canteen to eat every day.
Growing up, I had eating problems sitting at a table in the presence of authoritarians. But that day I was able to eat and finish my meal because justice came when it was summoned to the table.
