The Same Old Story
I am in the Philippines. Nice to be home, you say. Think again.
Today, the 30th of November, I’ve been rudely jolted awake at 6 a.m. by the deafening sound of a neighbor’s blaring music, amplified a hundred times by his monstrous loudspeakers. I leapt out of bed and dashed out of my house to confront the neighbor. His house is on the other side of the patubig (irrigation canal) where I live. Two early risers joined me. I pounded on the gate, the sound echoing in the morning silence. No response. The two neighbors called out the owner’s name. In vain!
“Maybe they are still asleep,” said one of the neighbors who came with me to complain. No way!
“Or maybe out and left the music on so no one would break in,” said the other neighbor. Ganun?
They, too, get bothered by the loud music. The owner of the big house beside yours does the same, they said.
Why not complain? I asked. “Rich people can do what they want.”
“People may be poor, but they, too, can be bothered by noise pollution,” was my polite reply.
We left, feeling the weight of our defeat. But this is not the end. This cannot be the end.
I must document this. Share it on Facebook. The platform asked me, ‘What’s on your mind, Virgilio?’ Oh, you have no idea, I muttered, determined to make my voice heard.
Meanwhile, the loud music goes on.