The Taxi Cab Chronicles

The cab driver pressed the start button on his meter machine as I settled in at the back of his cab for the ride to the airport. I requesed that the volume of his radio be turned down a bit before I started praying the rosary.

As is usually the case, traffic is heavy and I am done with my prayers even before we are one-forth of the way to the airport. I check my watch and glance at the huge billboards on the side of the road as the cab makes its slow progress.

For the next hour or so, the cab is my world and the driver my silent companion. And is usually the case, something catches my eye that I make an audible comment inside the cab. As is usually the case, the driver responses with his own thoughts.



Soon a lively exchange is underway on politics, the latest scandals, child-rearing strategies and religion. Slowly, the drivers let’s down their guard and with some prodding, narrate the most interesting stories. And it is these stories that make the long ride bearable.

I remember how one driver told of his teen years working on a fishing boat as a moroami* diver in the waters of Palawan. When asked, he said he did see sharks but was not afraid. Truth be told, he is more fearful of some of the passengers he picked up from time to time. Then there was the driver who spoke of his trails as an OFW. He had to escape a war-torn Middle Eastern country by hitching a ride inside the belly of an empty oil tanker. More misfortune followed him as he returned home to find that his wife had been unfaithful and pregnant with another man's child. But after a year of despair, he had managed to pick himself up and regained a positive outlook.

On this particular ride to the airport, I noticed a picture of the Divine Mercy hanging on the cab’s rear view mirror. I proceeded to tell the driver that I am a recent devotee. He then went on to tell me yet another amazing story in a taxi cab.

He is an engineer by profession and was fortunate to have worked in the Middle East. Money was plentiful then and so were his vices. Although married and with children, he put more value in the good times he had with his drinking buddies. Soon he lost his job. The money ran out and his friends left through the nearest exit. With no other opportunity opened to him, he became a taxi driver. One day, while attending the wake at a relative’s home, he had time to seat alone in a room that had a table with a statue of mother Mary and a picture of the Divine Mercy. He thought of his son who was asthmatic and knew that his smoking was partly to blame. He knew his wife was not happy and he felt hopeless. He did not know what came over him but he then placed his pack of cigarettes and lighter on that table and uttered a prayer for help to stop smoking. The next day, his cousin brought back the pack of cigarettes and lighter to him. But strangely, he did not have any need for them. Since then, he had quit smoking, his son has less and less asthma attacks and he feels that life is more peaceful. For the time being, he is content with his job as a taxi driver.

As I got down from the taxi at the airport’s departure terminal, I turn back to thank the driver for sharing his story. Not only was it an incredible story but his story was a reaffirmation of how faith can move mountains.

I can hardly wait to hear the next story inside another taxi cab.

*Moroami-  an  illegal fishing method involving the pounding and crushing of corals underwater to scare the fishes and luring them towards the nets. Young kids are made to dive into the water with minimal or no equipment to do the pounding.

xoxoxoxox

Believe it or not, I have also received laundry tips from a taxi driver.  It turned out that his wife was allergic to powdered detergents and he had taken on washing their clothes on his days off. 

But I will reserve that story for another day.  Instead, let me share with you some cooking tips given to me by another driver.  It all started with his asking me the name of the tree inside my subdivision that was in full bloom at that time he picked me up. 

"Firetree!", was my quick response. 

Luckily, I knew the name of the tree as it happened to be one of my favorite.  From then on the driver started to talk about his love for plants and his knowledge of their medicinal values.  Being diabetic, he said that he ate a lot of ampalaya or bitter gourd. I in turn told him  that ampalaya was not one of my favorite vegetable because of its bitterness. 

"You should try cooking it with a lot of tomatoes", was the tip he shared.  He continued telling me that when he was not driving, he did much of the cooking for his family. Apparently the acidity in the tomatoes helped take away most of the ampalaya's bitterness.  He also disagreed with the practice of squeezing sliced ampalaya that had been salted.  This practice removed much of the nutrients of the vegetable.  Lastly, when buying ampalaya, he advised to look for the ones that are light green in color and with wider groves.

Armed with this new knowledge, I cooked up the following dish using the tips given.  And, I must admit that I now like ampalaya if cooked with lots of tomatoes. Was it all in my mind or did the tips really helped? Try the recipe out and let me know.

Beef with Ampalaya

2 T olive oil
250 grams beef, cut into strips
1 onion, sliced
3 cloves garlic
5 tomatoes, diced
1 ampalaya, seeded and thinnly sliced
1/4 c chicken broth or 1/2 chicken cube dissolved in 1/4 cup of hot water
2-3 tablespoon of oyster sauce (optional)
salt and pepper to taste

Heat oil in a pan and saute the onions, the garlic and the tomatoes.  When tomatoes have softened, add the beef and stir fry.  Add the sliced ampalaya and gently mixed into the beef.  Pour in the broth and the oyster sauce (if using).  Season with salt and pepper.  Simmer until ampalaya is cooked and still a bit firm. 

Serve with piping hot steamed rice.