A jeepney driver who never gave up: How my Papa built our home and our dreams through his jeepney
Papa bought his first jeepney in 1986, the year I was born. It was a blue, seven seater jeepney, plying three major towns in Nueva Vizcaya.
He was only 27 at that time, already with three children. I’m the youngest, unplanned and unexpected, but Mama used to say that after I was born, things started to get better for them. She meant the jeepney, which really worked like a charm for us.
Papa spent half of his adult life behind the wheel. He did take on several other jobs when he was younger. He graduated college after all, which even to this day is a rare feat in our old barrio in Pampanga, where Papa grew up.
Teachers and all the other kids knew that Papa was a jeepney driver, while mama worked at a private clinic as a midwife. You’d think they would look down on us, but it was quite the opposite.
But, Papa had bigger dreams. After a few years, we would have one more jeepney, then another, and then another. I remember, we also had a junk shop at one point (“Bong’s Junk Shop”, we called it, after Papa’s nickname), and a truck. Then finally, our own house. It was a three-bedroom bungalow near the highway, with narra furniture, cable TV, and a telephone.
Papa sent us to the only private and Catholic school in our town, from kindergarten to high school. Teachers and all the other kids knew that Papa was a jeepney driver, while mama worked at a private clinic as a midwife. You’d think they would look down on us, but it was quite the opposite, we were somewhat popular — honor students and student leaders. I have never lost a student election.
My parents spoiled us with the little they have. Papa made sure we did not feel inferior, or allowed us to feel that life was difficult.
I guess my classmates thought we were more than comfortable because we would invite them to our birthday parties where we would serve lechon or we would have Sterling notebooks (Pilot pens, too) at the start of the school year, or because we were among the first to own a cellphone, or it was probably our baon — Chocolait and Dunkin Donuts or hotdog sandwiches and Yakult. See, my parents spoiled us with the little they have. Papa made sure we did not feel inferior, or allowed us to feel that life was difficult.
For sure, it was. But, Papa never complained. He always worried in silence, that’s just how he is. However, things did start to get difficult when I was about to start high school. I knew because we suddenly had to sell our house to pay-off debts and rent an old house which I still believe was actually haunted.
Despite that, my parents were confident they could send our eldest to UST for college, while my sister and I finished high school. My parents were really something, and would often say, “lakasan lang ng loob ‘yan. (you just need to be strong)”
I’m sure it was more than that. It was a lot of hard work, and yes, borrowing money from friends and relatives, which they had to pay off even years after we all graduated from college.
Papa, a diabetic since his 30s, rarely took a day off from driving our jeepney. Even Sundays were not sacred.
Kuya graduated in 2001 with a business degree. I remember we borrowed a car to attend his graduation at the PICC. In the same year, my Ate was admitted to UP Diliman. Then, a year later, I enrolled at UST. Papa, a diabetic since his 30s, rarely took a day off from driving our jeepney. Even Sundays were not sacred.
By 2006, we all had finished college — no delays and no promissory notes. Mama, who has kept every single citation and medal from pre-school to college, naturally taped our graduation photos on Papa’s stainless kaha or coin handler. If Facebook were a thing 15 years ago, I swear we’d go viral.
It was the perfect conversation starter and it was Papa’s favorite story to tell. Passengers would see it then ask: “mga anak niyo? (“Your kids?”) And Papa, beaming and always proud, would say “Ah oo. (Oh, yes.)” He would go on about sending us to top universities and how we all graduated with honors. “Ang galing niyo naman, Tay (Wow, you’re really something),” was how the conversation would always end.
In 2015, my parents moved back to Pampanga for good, at a house we now own. Papa has sold all of our jeepneys, and all three of us are now married and have great careers.
For Papa’s 60th birthday in 2018, we threw him a surprise party. We had a cake with a golden jeepney on it and gave away good morning towels to our guests. Over a hundred of them came — relatives, high school friends, old neighbors, and fellow drivers — all of them celebrating a jeepney driver who just never gave up.
The theme was “biyahe.” And now at 62, Papa could finally take it easy and enjoy his three grandchildren and another one on the way. I’m 37 weeks pregnant as I write this, and it’s not lost on me just how blessed my daughter is to have such an amazing lolo — or Papay, as his apos fondly call him.
Boundary na, Pa.
Teachers and all the other kids knew that Papa was a jeepney driver, while mama worked at a private clinic as a midwife. You’d think they would look down on us, but it was quite the opposite.