Am I Alone?

Ring! Ring! Ring! I was startled and got up quickly as my alarm clock burst into deafening sounds. The sun is still hiding behind the dying mountains and creatures are still slumbering in their habitats, but our house is already loud and awake at this time. I went immediately to our kitchen to wash my face and there I saw my mother, cooking dried fish and eggs for our breakfast while father and brother are already, fixing our things for later. After washing, mother already called us to eat and our father gave brief instructions for our work. The sun is already beaming when we were finished with our own chores; I already packed up my things while my family are already outside and ready to go.

It was hot outside and how I wish we had a car with air-conditioning to make us comfortable under the flaming sun but sadly, we only have a cow-drawn carriage as our vehicle to go to our fields. It was even hotter because we are obliged to wear face masks and face-shield, and we were wearing jackets and pants for our protection from itchiness. We do not want to pay for not following the rules, it is better to bear the heat than pay for these useless protocols. It has been a year, yet nothing has changed. Nevertheless, I was happy because it is the harvesting day of our corns. I was ecstatic because we will have money to buy a scrumptious Lechon because it has been a while since we ate food like those. We will also have adequate money to purchase a new phone for my online classes, who wouldn’t be excited about that, right? However, before celebrating, we will still experience pain and suffering under the sun.

After a few minutes of the ride, at last, we arrived at our cornfields. However, upon arriving, there we saw bald spots on our grounds, I heard my father sigh and said that maybe it was those rogue thieves again, who stole kilos of cabbage last planting season. I went to him and patted his back, “It’s okay father, we still have plenty to sell,” he smiled at me, and then we started harvesting our crops. Hours of working in the fields, we enjoy. Serving food to humanity brings us pride and delight. I am lucky to be a farmer’s son because I got the chance to experience how food is produced and how sweat and blood are dedicated to every grain of rice and for every piece of fruit and vegetable. It was nearly 12:00 noon when my mother called us for lunch; I ran rapidly because I needed to prepare for my online class. I also agreed to be in the fields because it is only the place where the internet connection is strong. We ate Ginisang Monggo with Chicharon and it was the best lunch for this week, after eating I went to the back of the Salomague tree and fixed my things for our class.

“Good afternoon, class,” greeted our teacher enthusiastically. We also answered joyfully, but there is a bit of fear and anxiousness hidden inside me. This is my last class for this week, and I was thankful that my data is still available because we will be having an oral recitation. However, anxiety is still overshadowing the things that I reviewed, because what if I ran out of data. I had to turn off my camera to save more data and patiently waited for my name to be called. “Mr. Pablo are you ready?” said my teacher and my heart started to pound rapidly like wanting to free from its cage. I answered instantaneously, “Yes sir, I am.” Sweat started to flow, like raindrops flooding the fields, “What will you say to the government to help farmers gain more income and not to give up planting?” My eyes widen because I am a son of a farmer, and this question will give me the opportunity to share the things that we struggled with and the things that we need. So, I draw my answer with the anguishes and grievous experiences that we endured through the years, “If I will be given the chance to address the government and even the people to let them know what farmers need, I will gladly grab this chance to talk about everything that…”

“Hello? Ma’am? Hello?” everything went black; it was as if my dream has been ended in just a snap. And there I saw my signal going ‘E’ that indicates it is the end, end of my net connections for a week. I asked myself again, how hard it is to be a farmer’s son. How hard it is to be poor and not have adequate supplies for this online learning? Tears began to flow as I eye my parents working hard to give the needs for my education. As my tears are gleaming under the struck of the fiery sun, I see the sweat of my family glinting in the midst of the challenging field, irrigating and giving life to the dying grounds and the unfair society. How hard it is to be a farmer? Working hard in the fields, determined to bring food for the people but hardly earning for their families for the betterment of their living?