Courageously Stupid

One afternoon on a sunny day at P. Campa Street (University belt area) Quiapo Metro Manila, I was sitting in a mono-block plastic chair in front of the store of a friend’s apartment building. It was a typical sunny afternoon. The sun had just set and I was sitting facing the crimson sky. There were few people in the street save just a few passer bys and people like me just sitting to watch the sun or the people. It was a low level kind of afternoon for me, for I was sitting there solely to kill the time just before I went to bed. The solemn atmosphere was in sync with my state of being; everything was quite and slow. That’s when I noticed that to my left, just a few meters away from me, something terribly wrong was happening. A man with a knife in his right hand was busy digging holes into another man’s body, just below his armpit along the ribs. Using his left arm to hold up left arm of his sufferer, the very angry attacker used his right hand to deliver the successive, fast, and furious killer blows. The victim, who by this point was gravely hurt, afraid, and helpless manage to get away from the grasp of the assailant, but apparently weakened by his wounds and panic, he fell to the ground. The attacker quickly picked him back up again, left arm holding left arm, and delivered another succession of fast stabs.

The incident happened so fast. Astounded and taken aback, I was paralyzed for a moment. Before I knew it, the attacker was walking away fast to escape the crime scene. Almost running, he crossed the street and was on the other side of the roadway heading toward where I was sitting. I don’t know what motivated me to interfere. Perhaps out of compassion for the victim, my inherent disgust at the injustice injustice, or simply because of my inborn stupidity, my instant reaction was to intervene. Without thinking, I abruptly shouted at the aggressor, who was stunned by my loud authoritative voice.

“Hoy!” with all the anger I could vocalize, I shouted at the man. He stopped and looked at me. Only as his eyes met mine did I realize that he whom I shouted at was a dangerous man and probably a desperate person with nothing to lose, a potential killer and aggressor who attacks with a deadly weapon. The bloody knife of the assailant was still in his hand, whereas I, except for irrational courage and sheer stupidity, was holding nothing. You are dead, my mind concernedly and blamefully whispered.

I should have run away, but to do so in that critical situation surprisingly was not in my options at the time. It happened too fast for me to think rationally. I thought after what he did and how I responded, I couldn’t afford to run, for that would be a waste of effort on my part. Perhaps I was too proud to call myself a coward; because, inherently, I am a stupid nutshell, and even in stupidity my tendency is to hold on to my ground. At that time, I thought what I was doing was right, and righteousness oftentimes makes me irrational and courageous.

For a split moment, it seemed as though time stopped for both us. We were only a few meters apart and separated by a roadway while we stood eye to eye facing each other. My only weapon against his knife would have been the plastic chair that I was sitting at. I was hoping that he couldn’t easily carve a hole into my body while the chair was in between us and in my hands. Afraid, but prepared, I waited for the consequence of my courageously stupid action.

Somehow, I’d made a deadly gamble for the sake of justice, a risk where my life was at stake. I was aware that the man was also afraid. He was on the run and wanted to escape. I gave him two options: for him to attack me or to simply run away. I was lucky that he chose the second option, but he was not as lucky as I was, for my courageous venture was not over yet. I chased him, and because of that he was caught.