Last week we heard a grumbling and grinding of machinery in the distance. My children who were preparing for their prelim exams simply put their earphones on to muffle the noise. We thought it was just a cement mixer hired by the neighbor who was renovating his house.

Later in the day when it ceased, we went about our business without a thought of it, glad for the auditory relief. The next day, I noticed that there were parallel lines etched by a concrete cutter into the pavement of the street — oh, no! The water mains all over the subdivision were being rehabilitated after 32 years of neglect by the developer.

The water service in this subdivision is appalling. The water supplied is often black with muddy and rusty debris. Since December last year, the water pressure has been low — Water just cannot come up to flow out of the tap in the kitchen. I’ve taken to storing water in huge plastic drums just to have water for washing hands and dishes.

I often wake up at 2 or 3 am to the sound of water furiously gushing out of the tap in the bathroom. Thus begins the chore of filling up every water storage container in the house for bathing and washing. I often carry water by the bucketful — the downside of this is that it tires and annoys me as I have been chronically sleep-deprived. The upside is that I don’t need to go to the gym to tone my biceps.

The thought that calmed me down was that the inconvenience promised a better water supply– something to look forward to that will make up for the inconvenience. Rumor has it that the right to supply water to our neighborhood has been contracted out to Maynilad. Also, the crew that worked on the water mains actually did a decent job of re-paving Zodiac Street when they rehabilitated the water mains there. And two-thirds of the street was still passable. Best of all, the etch marks on the concrete was on the opposite side of the street — this meant that I could still drive in and out of the garage with little inconvenience. It was not all that bad, is it?

On Friday, I was surprised to hear a jackhammer on the top of the street. When I walked to the newspaper stand, I saw two dump trucks — they were tearing up the entire street!

When I left to walk to the market, they had torn up the pavement two blocks down from the top of the street. When I left for my Friday lecture at 1:30 pm, they had torn up (and cleared away the debris) from three blocks. When I got home, I found, to my dismay, that they had torn up five blocks down. The pile of debris was at the corner just before my house. Today, the road has been torn up in front of my house.

As some of the neighbors were out on the street, huddled about talking, I asked them what was going on. I said that I thought they were just going to rehabilitate the water mains, not tear up the entire length of our street. There was no prior notice, after all.

A neighbor who had a daughter working at city hall said that the repaving of the street was a project of the outgoing mayor. And it was unfortunate that the subdivision developer did not coordinate with the Mayor’s office to avoid duplication of work.

Everyone complained about the inconvenience but the consensus was that everyone was happy that our rutted street was finally getting a facelift. They were rather excited at this welcome development.

I was not excited. I was furious.

First, the developer has stubbornly refused to fulfill its duty to tend to the roads and open spaces for 30 years until our street resembled the surface of the moon. It also refused to turn over the subdivision to the local government until the homeowners’ association finally filed a suit to compel the developer to fix the road, the drainage and the water mains and turn over the entire subdivision to the City Government.

Second, the developer has appealed the decision of the HLURB and still retains ownership of the common areas but the City Government has already begun using what is presumably public funds to fix the road. How can public funds be used to fix what are essentially private roads? We do not know who is causing all this inconvenience to us.

Should there be any accident, we would not know whom to sue for damages. If a child falls and breaks an arm or a leg in an excavation, who will pay for the child’s hospitalization?

Third, if the contractor fails to finish the project, for whatever reason, or if the project takes too long to finish as the paving crew will doubtless wait for the water mains to be rehabilitated first before repaving, how can we hold them accountable? Whom can we hold accountable? The developer? The contractor? The City Government? Or Maynilad?

Fourth, the entire street is closed up. In case of fire or earthquake or flooding, how would the residents evacuate? How can they be rescued? In case of medical emergency — how can residents reach the hospital? And what of garbage disposal? The garbage truck cannot pass — how will they collect the garbage? And what abou sanitation? When garbage pile up, disease will follow. When sludge, mud and rain water remains stagnant in potholes, dengue fever outbreak will follow.

Lack of coordination in basic services will inevitably result in actual injury and damage to individuals. This is not mere inefficiency, or lack of coordination, this is downright endangerment of human lives.

Fifth, because we are uncertain whose project this is (we don’t really know anything!) we cannot be sure if this is not electioneering (politicians’ window-dressing to show some semblance of public service to obtain political capital for the upcoming elections).

We cannot be sure if this is a form of corruption of public funds. When a mayor has been elected for three consecutive terms, and is then ineligible to run for a fourth consecutive term — what does political capital benefit him or her? Nothing. What then?

Well, it is common knowledge that corruption occurs when contractors bid for public works projects such as road repair. The ADB has studies documenting this common practice. Contractors promise public officials a percentage share out of the profits or out of the earmarked funds (when released) so that they will be awarded the project. The result is that a road is built, yes; but the politicians’ pockets are lined with money from the public coffers as well. The road may be of substandard quality because the money for materials had been siphoned off to pay for bribes.

Sixth, on a very personal note, since there is no road, our car will have to be parked elsewhere just so we can still go to work. It would be easy for me. I can walk carefully through the debris in rubber slippers and just wear heels as soon as I get to the car. My husband who has mobility issues due to polio will not be able to pick his way through the debris on the street. He will not be able to walk through the rubble of the five blocks to get to the car. If by some miracle he finds the strength to do so, and makes it to the car five blocks away, he probably will just sleep in the car to recover from the effort instead of commuting one hour to work, working for five to six hours, commuting another hour to work and then, walking the five blocks through debris just to be able to sleep. The next day, he will have to do the very same thing. Five days a week he will need to do this.

For people like us, working class people, going to work is something we do because we need to eat, pay the rent and send our children to school. We don’t do this to self-actualize or enhance our self-esteem — this is incidental. We work so we can eat.

My children will have to pick their way through the rubble to get to the terminal to begin their two hour commute to school every single day. They have classes for five hours and then they have another two-hour commute to go back home. And then, they will have to pick their way through five blocks of rubble and debris just to get home, do their homework and sleep only to get back up and do the same thing all over again the very next day.

I have a neighbor with a daughter who has cerebral palsy — she will have to pick her way through the debris to get to work as well. I have neighbors who are seniors — they will be shut in the house. I have neighbors who are nearly of retirement age. They will also have to pick their way through the debris to get to work. Oh, and I have neighbors who have had strokes and heart attacks — they will also have to pick their way through the debris on the street. This project hurts us in a very personal way.

As I was writing this, I heard the now-familiar sound of heavy equipment moving earth. I took a writing break to gawk outside.

My neighbor, a seaman who has retired due to injury is in his element — this is his way of coping. He acts as though he were involved in the project. He gets to make friends of the crew and he gets the debris on his side removed first. I doubt if he realizes that his side will not get paved because the water mains will have to be finished.

As for me, my way of coping is different. I noticed that the members of the crew were people the neighborhood as well. So, I struck up a conversation with them. I learned that this was a project of the developer but the materials were donnated by the office of the congresswoman (hmmmm, the congresswoman’s husband is rumored to be running for mayor, so, that makes a lot of political sense.

I also learned that they intend to clear the debris by Monday (problem solved, good news for me). They intend to pour concrete on our half of the street and that it will probably take three weeks to fully dry and harden after pouring. At this time, while the concrete is hardening, the water mains will be fixed.

I breathe. Upon reflection, I wonder why I was so furious.

Of course, the lawyer in me finds disorder abhorrent. The offhandedness of this whole thing disregards laws that were meant to regulate the behavior of people in government. The lack of notice effectively deprived us of options (we could have rented an apartment elsewhere to minimize the discomfort and inconvenience).

Much that I want to feel happy that our rutted road will finally be smooth, I am furious with the thought that I might be benefitting from possible corruption. If it were true that the materials were provided by the congresswoman, this would probably be some kind of technical malversation as our subdivision road is private property still. I am furious that I will become a partaker of corruption or a beneficiary of it. It will make me feel dirty each time I drive on our road. I will feel guilt that in order to get a good road, money had to be diverted from some other legal purpose. I am furious that perhaps public money is being used to accomplish work that should have been done by the developer! I am so furious about this!

I have also noticed that I was angry not because of inconvenience to me, pesonally, but to the hubby. I am angry for him. I am angry on his behalf. And the anger was not simply because he would be unable to go to work and thus, his earnings will be reduced. I am angry because the situation forces us to take measures to reduce the impact to his already limited mobility.

My anger stems from frustration. I have managed to carve out an existence where the consequences of his disability have been reduced to a bare minimum. I have done my Biblical duty to be a help meet for his needs. This road repair thing has upset the world I have made where his disability is a tolerable inconvenience and not a factor that devastates his life chances. This is what makes me so angry as well.

When I arrived at this small epiphany over my lemon tea at breakfast, I told hubby about it. He looked at me and smiled. He said, well, anger is a reaction that is natural to you. In the past, your anger has fueled your efforts to accomplish seemingly impossible tasks. You move people to action with your anger especially when you know you are right.

But please, he said, don’t be angry in my behalf. I’m not angry. I was worried, I admit. But I have prayed about it and I have submitted and surrendered it to the Lord. You probably should do the same thing. Let’s wait for the Lord to move.

Immediately, the knot of indignation loosened (see, this is why I married him — he says things that make sense and his words resonate in my innermost being). Later, when I am all alone, as I travel to my afternoon class at church today, I will feel utter relief when I bow and worship, relinquishing control over to my Lord and Savior. I will confess and ask forgiveness because my anger and frustration are signs of the self-life and utter lack of faith.

The hairs on my head — God knows the number of it. He has secured my eternal salvation — I think He can surely be trusted to take care of the small stuff, too. He has made a way in the wilderness before and he made a highway through the sea before. He can make a way through the debris. This is no trouble for my God.

For now, I have to see to lunch…..