The man with the face of heaven

I used to think neighbors come to my house only because they need something from me.

Indeed, they do.

For the past three years, neighbors have been coming and going out of our house. But they do not come here to borrow or beg for money; neither to borrow carpentry or garden tools; nor to have someone listen to and help them solve their domestic or international problems. They come here for only one reason. They come to see me. No, let me correct that. They come her to see my face.

No, I do not have a face shattered by bazoka. I was not hit by posporous gas Israilites rain on the suspected Hamas militants in Gaza. I have no scar in the form of letter Z on my forehead. I am just another ordinary guy with an extraordinary look.

Of course, you must be demanding for a discription. Sorry, you will never have it. Otherwise, even the Muslim militants who kidnapped the Red Cross volunteers will also kidnap me thinking I have millions simply because I have so much fan from around the world.

To see a hunk (translation: handsome and sexy guy), my neighbors need to either stroll the commercial capital of Manila (Makati), the working district of Pasig (Ortigas), or they may stroll the malls (Sy's Mall, Ayala's Mall, Gokongwei's Mall, et al). To get there, they need to have money for transportation, except the wealthy who have their own sedans. Aside from that, they also need to have their pocket money. People do get hungry not just for beautiful things or human beings to look at; they get hungry for the basic reason that they need food--don't you know that?

The price of food in the places mentioned is no joke. You must have at least a hundred pesos to eat a decent and full meal in a fastfood chain, two hundred in food courts, or at least fifty pesos to buy food in the side walk. But who buys food from the sidewalks when you are inside the mall?

Instead, they come to my house. In here, they have all they want: we serve them merienda, one or two glasses of water--or if the visitor is a baby or a small child, we serve him or her a glass of luke warm milk. Which means, when they come to my house they do not have to spend anything for food.

But there are drinks we avoid serving for obvious reasons: like wine, beer and other alcoholic drinks. We reserve those drinks for the most sane of my fans.

So what do those peole do in your house, you may ask. The truth is, I do not do anything nor do I need to say a word. My neighbors say nothing also! Neighter do they move when I am with them. They just sit there prostrate looking at me. If you look at their eyes its safe to assume they are somewhere else in a beautiful garden--surely not the memorial garden--strolling while holding my hand.

So that the merienda we serve will not be left untouched, we do a little trick to catch their attention and to remind them to stop fantasizing about me instead of spending time with me.

To do that, I need to kiss them. And, just like a flash of light from an instrument used my Will Smith in the movie Men in Black, they shake their head and descend from heaven to earth, in our sala.

The humility of these people is stunning. Where can you find neighbors who are willing to accept and be subjected to harsh criticism for believing almost to a point of insanity that their neighbor has the face of a god? Nowhere else. Only in my place.

You might have noticed I have been trying to avoid revealing my location. I am sure you understand why. I am sure you have heard about me and been looking for my location for a very long time. I am sorry I cannot reveal my place to you. I am glad my neighbors respect a little of what is left of my privacy, and I was able to convinced them not to put up a fan website for me, the same way Chief State Prosecutor Jovencito Zuño convinced the Prosecutors from Central Luzon from staging a mass leave next week. You heard of that? The prosecutors got insulted because Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA) officials accused them of taking bribes for the release of Richard Brodett, Jorge Joseph and Joseph Tecson more popularly known as The Alabang Boys.

Anyway, going back to what we were talking about: you may be curious how do I let these people go. Or how do their visits end. Well, I just tell them I have to go write some articles so that I can earn my living. Amusingly, they do not delay me for another second. They tell me they understand the economy is hard and every one of us needs to have some source of income.

Of course, they will be sad every time I say good bye. They just convince and remind themselves that they can go back every day to look at me and adore my face.

Talk about vision. These same people have vision that is why they do not resort to acts of dispair. They believe in their hearts that there will always be tomorrow, another day to celebrate by seeing the face they believe is the face of heaven.

If they were just some other ordinary men and women, before you could ever say good bye they would pull one of your arms close to them and beg you not to leave them. How selfish! But no, my neighbors are extraordinary people. Poverty, hunger and distress could not crush their spirit. Not once were they ever hopeless. All these they owe to one man. The man who has the face of heaven.

Too bad for you who cannot see the face of heaven.