We stopped at a traffic light along Kalayaan Ave. A young boy ran towards our car with his palm stretched upwards, asking for alms. We tapped lightly at our window, the signal for “no alms.”
The boy sneered, kicked the door, and mockingly licked our side mirrors. He did this repeatedly until the light turned green.
To him, I was the lady inside a nice car — “ang may kaya.” And in this country — it doesn’t matter if they use the money to buy cigarettes, Tanduay, or rugby — I am still obliged to give.
“Mayaman ka naman eh.” Always said with a hint of accusation, as if daring anyone to complain.