"May hati talaga ang lupa sa tubig," (The world is really divided into land and water.) Arnold says as he stares out into the horizon; the sun is setting, the fish are flopping around in his sack, the sea is quiet. "Tahimik dito sa tubig. Di katulad ng lupa, ang ingay." (It's quiet here by the water. Unlike the land - it's so noisy there.) His hard eyes seem to melt when he stares at the great blue that lies beneath us. He spends his early mornings as a traffic enforcer; surrounded by the blur of people, the chaos of cars, the orchestra of honks and cusses. The drivers are furious and impatient, the sun's heat isn't any kinder either. He asks me if I watched the news last night about the enforcer who was killed by an angry driver. He turns his grave stare to me and says that that was his friend. Hell is the mornings spent on the streets of Pasay; the cars and pedestrians follow every move of his hand - he is a conductor of chaos. Like a fish out of water, he is gasping for escape and he is far from home.
As the sun is sinking into slumber, he finds himself surrounded by the sea. His rod begins to tremble against his palm and he reels in with the power of an angry man. A fish is reborn into the air, Arnold grabs it like a prize. For a moment, there is peace in his busy days, there is reward in his patience. He is congratulated by his peers but he does nothing but smirk, then proceeds to throw the fish on to the ground, wherein a cat and a huge bird wrestle for it. He never brings home the fishes he catches, nor does he sell it or eat it. He grimaces at me, "Di mo makakainin ang mga hinuli mo." (You can't eat your own catch.) The stray cat and visiting birds are grateful for this generosity.
He is a man with a tsunami brewing inside of him. He is impatient and angry when he is not busy with the sea. When he turns to the waters, there is a peace that overcomes the man, like gentle waves against the rocks. "Hindi nakakainit ng ulo ang mga isda." (The fish don't piss me off.)
I ask where his family is. He does not answer. He continues to stare hard at the setting sun. "Ayaw nila sa ganito. Parang ito na ang tahanan ko," (They don't like this lifestyle. This is now my home.) He turns to me, his hands busy with his hooks, the sun haloing his head - "Tubig ang elemento ko." (Water is truly my element.)
*All photos are mine.
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