Anamarie Antolin
December 31, 2023
I'm not a big fan of New Year's Eve celebrations.
Vibrant fireworks that light up the sky at midnight, hearing much of the noise from what we've come to call "torotot," coupled with sounds from an improvised pan-banging, a cacophony of car and motorcycle horns, and a random play of soundscape—that chaos, which makes my pets feel afraid and uneasy, do not interest me.
We tend to close an old chapter to unfold a new one. As the clock strikes midnight, we have come to an end to welcome a new beginning.
Surely, we have even set fresh goals for the coming months. We are inclined to make the celebration as glamorous and joyous as possible, thinking that this will represent how our lives will proceed all year long. In an attempt to attract good fortune, we even wear matching colored shirts and scatter coins around the house while having various 12-round fruits on our dining table. Certainly, we've grown up with those beliefs.
It does, indeed, signal another start; it sounds fun. But, rather than feeling enthusiastic about this, I am more afraid of a thought: mainly facing another year, a new chapter of our lives, without having accomplished that remarkable goal in the previous year.
Anticipating new changes even scares me—what the future holds for me and the other thousands and millions of people.
Ever heard of New Year jitters? That is, I suppose.
I am a graduating student with a degree in Journalism, and 2024 will be my year of firsts: first college graduation, college degree, and stable and formal job, among others. 2023 was my year of growth, preparing myself for what lies ahead in the coming years; 2024, hopefully, will be a year of more successes than disappointments.
A point for advancement.
More so, December 31, more than just the end of the calendar year, had taken on new significance, adding to the reasons why I do not seem to enjoy the celebration. It is, indeed, the end of the period, and so is the livelihood of over 60,000 traditional jeepney drivers and 25,000 jeepney operators; millions of commuters are also affected, including myself. This comes after the government pushed the consolidation deadline and the Public Utility Modernization Program (PUVMP), defying the voices of the affected sector in several initiatives and protests recently.
I even recall seeing posts about who is to blame, notably pointing fingers at the majority of Filipinos who voted to reclaim the once-dethroned name in power after years. However, it seems futile at this point as we are now facing our fate. Everyone is just a victim. We are victims.
Nonetheless, if there is one change I hope to see in the future, it is that Filipinos will finally learn to take off their rose-colored glasses—ignoring the red flags of those on the throne.
A point for a pro-people change. A point for visible hope.
New Year, they say, is supposed to be fun to welcome because we get to start over. Although I may admit that is true, we may bear a different price. The story may be different for graduating students who will begin a new chapter in their lives this year. It differs for those who are about to embark on a new journey in the coming months. It's yet another tale for thousands of Filipinos and the country as we shift to a more modern manner of life.
December 31 is now more than just an end date; it is a part of the nation's history—a tragic one. While we have come prepared to celebrate, it is a different story for those who have chosen to spend the holidays on the streets, airing their grievances and fighting for survival.
What awaits us in the future? What is in store for us this year? Certainly, 2024 will be a different story for us, the transportation sector, and the country.
Was it truly a happy new year for everyone? Perhaps for some, but not for the vast majority.
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