Between Then and Now

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bonita

R yan is my friend, and I’m helping him date his dream girl. That becomes my mantra each day I wake up and find Ryan with his shirt askew, sprawled on his bed, snoring softly like a bear in hibernation. It’s not that I have feelings for him, but he’s physically perfect, and I’m just a girl who likes her piece of eye candy.

The next few days follow a similar routine: vaccinations, consultations, and a few insightful villagers here and there.

During the day, I capture footage of our activities, making sure I get the best angles and moments that showcase the team’s efforts. Ryan is a natural in front of the camera; his genuine concern for the villagers is evident in every shot. Occasionally, I catch him looking at Alexa, and I nudge him playfully, reminding him to focus.

Evenings are spent editing videos and preparing for the next day. Ryan often sits beside me, offering input on which clips to use and which stories to highlight.

Today, an elderly woman arrives in our triage. She stands out because she looks more… native and insightful. For starters, she’s wearing a vakul and traditional woven fabric. I thought these things were only worn during festivals and special occasions, but it’s refreshing to see them used on a normal day. I approach her as she wraps up her check-up with John.

“Good morning,” I start. She looks up at me, her face a map of wrinkles, each line telling a story. She speaks in her native dialect but understands me anyway. Her voice carries the weight of years spent watching the world change around her. I ask if I can film and interview her, and she shyly agrees .

We sit under the shade of a large mango tree just beside John’s triage tent. She shares tales of the village's history, recounting how they’ve faced and overcome various challenges over the decades. She talks about the importance of community and how everyone looks out for each other, especially during hard times. John approaches us, also interested in the woman’s insights.

“My husband used to be the village healer,” she says, her eyes distant with memories. “He taught me so much about plants and their healing properties. When he passed, I tried to continue his work, but times have changed, and people now prefer modern medicine.” Her gaze softens as she looks around. “The pandemic was also a terrible time for us here, with many people unable to access health care. I’m thankful for you all,” she turns to John, “for doing this.”

John and I listen intently, captivated by her stories that seem to bridge the gap between past and present. She speaks of how the village has evolved, adapting to new ways while still holding onto cherished traditions. Her words paint a picture of a resilient community that has weathered storms, both literal and metaphorical, preserving its cultural heritage amidst the currents of change.

As she speaks, I can’t help but feel a deep admiration for her resilience and wisdom. Here is a woman who has seen the world transform around her yet remains steadfast in her commitment to preserving her heritage and sharing her knowledge with the younger generations. It’s a humbling experience and a privilege to sit under that mango tree, listening to her stories that carry the weight of history and the warmth of human connection .

After the interview, I watch as she retreats to the village. I review the footage I filmed, and once I’m satisfied, my mind races with how it will tie in with my finished product. I start fixing my gear, and I don’t notice John creeping up behind me, so I jump when he says, “Hey, Bon.” I almost lose my balance, and he holds my elbow to steady me.

He laughs at my reaction as I greet him back. “Hey, sorry about that. You startled me,” I say. “You were listening in, right? She’s something, isn't she?” I gesture to the old woman walking away.

“Yeah, she was. Makes us appreciate why we’re here in the first place,” John says. I make a move to fix my filming materials, but he crouches down beside me and says, “Listen, Bon, we never really talked much before. I wonder why that is.”

I shrug, a bit taken aback by his sudden introspection. “I don’t know. I guess we’ve both been busy. But better late than never, right?” I offer him a smile.

John nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. You really have a knack for this, by the way,” he says, pointing to my filming materials. “Not just the filming part, but the connecting with people part. You always seem to know what to say.” He helps me fold my tripod and put it back in the bag.

I blush slightly, not used to such direct compliments. “Thanks, John. That means a lot. I just... I think it’s important to see people, really see them, you know?”

He nods, the thoughtful look returning. “Yeah, I do. And you’re right. Maybe we should all try to see each other a little better.”

As he says that, I start to really look at him. John is attractive. He is tan and tall, with dark curly hair that frames his face in a way that makes him look effortlessly handsome. Ryan, on the other hand, is also tall but has light brown hair that is almost blonde, which makes his blue eyes stand out even more. The Millers stand out starkly from every Filipino family I’ve known. Unlike most families who moved out of the Philippines in search of better opportunities, the Millers moved in.

I remember seeing a big moving truck while I was playing with Emily in their front yard. We were both around six or seven, and we were in awe of the two guys who stepped out of the truck. Ryan was older, so he didn’t really register as cute to us, but Richard became everyone’s crush that day. I recall the four of us even making a pact to “un-crush” Richard because it was threatening our friendship. Yes, a boy was ruining our friendship in first grade.

Back to John, I smile at him. “I just think everyone has something interesting to share if you take the time to listen.”

“Do you have something interesting to share, Bon?”

“Well, I’m a very interesting person, so, a lot,” I chuckle.

“Care to offer one interesting thing?” John asks, holding my tripod.

I smirk, feeling a bit cheeky. “Hmm, I once convinced Ryan that if he made a funny face for too long, it would get stuck that way. He walked around for a whole day looking like a constipated chipmunk.”

John bursts out laughing, nearly dropping the tripod he’s holding. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope,” I say, grinning. “It was probably my finest moment.” We laugh together for a while.

“Sounds like it,” John says. “You and Ryan grew up together? ”

“Yeah, we grew up in the same neighborhood. He was a lot less cool back then,” I laugh.

We continue packing up my filming materials, John lending a hand as we work. Once everything is packed into my wagon, he says, “Speaking of Ryan, looks like he’s finally making progress.” He points behind me.

“Huh?” I whirl around to where John is looking and feel a pang of something I can’t quite identify. Because there, at a distance, it’s finally happening.

Ryan is finally talking to Alexa.