Tuesday, May 05, 2009

What Happened

I got something hilarious this evening just as I was about to leave the Center. Today, I created the possibility of "being Pacquiao" - especially since I was to give a short motivational talk before more than a hundred agents of PruLife UK - of being heroic and a global champion, just like good old Manny. Tonight, I just started laughing out loud at how that had been realized, literally. Bloodied knees, torn garments, left hand out of commission - I look like I just came out of the boxing ring. Then again, Manny emerged from his latest bout unscathed, which is more than I can say for myself. But it was funny, nonetheless.

So here's what happened. I let my guard down a little during a meeting in front of Som's near Rockwell. And opened myself to a one-two of a brazen thief - he walked up, approached our table, and just grabbed what was on it: one, my wallet; two, my personal cell phone and the Center mobile assigned to one of the Course Supervisors I was meeting with. It was so surreal: he just walked up as if he knew us, and I even remember smiling at him, as if to ask him how we could help him - and off he went with his loot, and on his companion's motorcycle. With another motorcycle as back-up.

What happened next was a surprise, even to myself: I immediately gave chase. Footwear flying, running barefoot at top speed on the asphalt pavement, and falling flat on my face like an uncoordinated two-year old learning to walk. Twice. And yet, at one point, even on those bikes, I almost had 'em. Coach Tito (my running coach who I've stood up for many months) would have been proud.

In retrospect, it really wasn't worth the effort - all they took from me was a mobile phone that had seen better days and was very nearly due for replacement (plus it was a Globe phone that was remotely disabled upon my report, take that!), and a wallet that had about PhP3,000 plus $10 and Y100 plus of course credit and ATM cards (all duly cancelled by now) and my driver's license and IDs. In exchange, I sustained damages to my two favorite pieces of clothing - my blouse got ripped at the shoulder, my pants now have holes where the knees used to be. Plus my watch got broken, with the time stopping at the exact time I fell down: 6:54 p.m. My pedicure is ruined. And then there of course is the matter of physical injuries and the accompanying public humiliation (thank goodness I no longer really care about what anyone thinks). I can only fantasize about the charges I could file.

But oddly enough, once I had fully discharged my upset during the whole pursuit (screaming "Magnanakaw! Magnanakaw!" at the top of my lungs and getting the whole neighborhood into the streets had quite the cathartic effect), I then immediately went into handling the cancellation of all accounts that would potentially exacerbate the gravity of the impact - the mobile number and the phone (just in case the thief had the temerity to make some long distance calls on my account), credit card, ATM. Then I attended, with the kind assistance of the people in the Center, to the wounds of battle, and got in communication with the office, the people I had meetings with tomorrow, and my Mom.

Quite a big difference from one of the first times I was similarly "victimized" years ago - when someone broke into my car, stole my stereo and a whole lot of (my best) clothes. At the time I was fuming, murderous, and inconsolable for days. So too when someone keyed my car a few years later, and, even while at the time I already had Christ in my life, I so badly wanted the offender DEAD. Yet today, even though I came face-to-face with the criminal, I still cannot find it in my heart to hate him/them. Yes, I was pissed at the hassle and at why people have to resort to such criminality, but it no longer is personal.

It's not a personal affront against them - I started to think what kind of view of life has people like these thieves decide to take on this kind of life. Do they have children whose hunger is fed by the fruits of their fathers' crimes? Do I stand beside them at Sunday Mass, do they engage in acts of penitence come Holy Week to absolve themselves of their earthly transgressions? Do they get to sleep soundly at night? Do they experience joy in their lives? And would I, given how the world occurs for them and all their experiences, do the same had I seen the world the same way?

It's not a personal affront to me - I just happened to be there at the time, it could have been anyone. I'm not beating myself up for being stupid or less cautious or for whatever was taken from me.

On the drive home (illegal, I should acknowledge, as I had no license on me), I had Don Moen on the CD player. He sang, "forgive our sins, and heal our land...we long to be in Your presence once again." And then I really GOT that part of the Lord's Prayer that says, "forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us." I have no right to condemn, or to pass judgment on those who may have "erred" against me. Heaven knows how much I have erred against so many others - and, more importantly, against Him.

In the same manner, I have no right to condemn, or pass judgment against myself. As I forgave and prayed for those who took my stuff, I also forgave myself. And that had me be free, and carry on. Indeed, as one of my favorite Facebook applications aptly puts it: "The degree to which you do not accept life in all of the Divine forms is the degree to which you suffer."

One last thing that has me empowered: what happened, happened to me such that it doesn't have to happen to anyone else. I can see a parallel to that in the faith I have chosen, albeit I went through so much less.

To end with a practical note - keep your valuable belongings close and out of sight, especially in public places like Algier Street where Som's is. Interrupt temptation; be watchful but not suspicious. And don't let any incidents like these lessen your faith in what is possible for us as human beings, for indeed, for anyone who has ever "wronged" us is, essentially, who we are in all our humanity. To paraphrase the old saying, "There go I."

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