[“Epal” is a slang word in Filipino that is used to describe someone who likes to meddle or insert themselves into other people’s businesses . It comes from the word “pumapapel,” which means “someone who sticks his/her nose in others’ businesses” . “Epal” is also used to describe politicians who place their names and faces on tarpaulins announcing government projects  In Tagalog, “epal” means shamelessness, shameless self-promotion, or a person who inappropriately butts into a situation or conversation . Thank you Bing, citing Esquire Magazine Philippines and other sources. The photo above is computer-generated.]

TAGA SAAN ka sa atin?

I felt that because she offered her table to us, at the very least i owed her an answer to that seemingly harmless question.

[it wasn’t really a big deal for her as she had already finished her meal, but she decided to make small talk so...]

Cainta, I said, and purposely not asking back, just in case the conversation would end there.

Nope.

Ako, malapit lang! Sa Makati, and she continued with several statements about how close Makati was to Cainta, which I hadn’t lived in anyway for ages, and asked me when was the last time I visited home, which was the start of a long thread of questions.

Even before I could answer, she told me in probably 90 seconds the story of her life, how she had carried on after her husband died, particularly after a family tragedy I won’t dwell on now, how she decided to retire early and NOT go home regularly to the Philippines (I’m guessing from her age that she no longer had family there) and again, more questions.

How long had I been in New Zealand? When did I become a permanent resident? Where did I work? How much did I earn? Where did I live? How much rent did I pay? Why, if the rent was high, wouldn’t I get a flatmate? These she asked, again in less than two minutes, not stopping to hear my answers but only stopping to insert her own details had she been asked the same questions she was asking.

I can hear you asking kabayan: Why didn’t you just leave, or just ask her to stop asking such personal questions especially to someone she had known for less than five minutes?

***** ***** *****

It wasn’t that simple, kabayan. First, there was that matter of the shared table, in the midst of occupied tables all around the food court.

Second, part of our Filipino culture is to be instinctively respectful to older people. It is, impulsively, our default mode. I wasn’t about to cut off this sweet old woman just because, well, of a few intrusive questions.

***** ***** *****

Except that the intrusiveness was about to make a leap into a whole new level.

I was handling this “press conference” alone because Mahal had gone off to buy some lunch for us.

While she was gone, this was intrusive lola’s question: Iisa pa lang ba anak nyo, o may anak ka na sa iba???

Even before I had a chance to consider whether such a question had actually been asked, Mahal returned, smiling at the old kabayan woman.

You won’t be smiling Mahal if you’d just heard what Lola Epal asked me, I thought.

***** ***** *****

My estimate of five minutes (before Mahal would start getting tired of Lola Epal’s questions) turned out to be three minutes too much. Without even bothering to hide it, Mahal’s eyes started rolling at Minute Number Two.

Saan kayo nagkita? Sa Pilipinas o sa New Zealand? Sa Pilipinas? Bakit sa Pilipinas? (Whaaaaat?) Bakit isa lang anak nyo? Bakit ayaw nyo pang magka -anak? Anu-ano mga trabaho nyo? Nakabili na ba kayo ng bahay? Renting? Magkano rent nyo? Bakit di kayo magflatmate? (she seemed to be fixated with rental and flatmate situations, regardless of how well she knew the person she was interrogating.)

By Minute Number Five, Mahal was already starting to ignore Lola Epal, but I was 101% certain that inside, she was very annoyed with our impromptu lunch date.

Unbelievably, within those five minutes she had also managed to stress out Baby Dumpling our daughter, by staring at her food, asking her why she wasn’t eating faster and eating more food, and bribing her with sweets, just so she would start eating. What Lola didn’t realize was that Dumpling couldn’t eat because of the new presence in the table, which was of course, Lola Epal.

Honestly, I knew what was happening. A perfect storm of (1) typical overly familiar kabayan, combined with (2) elders’ common tendency ask a little too much about strangers’ lives, topped by (3) a lonely widow who didn’t have much to do after Sunday church service, and Mahal, Baby Dumpling and I just happened to be caught stranded in the eye of that storm.

Not the best of situations, but not the worst either. She did mention that we looked like a nice couple, and that Baby Dumpling was the cutest thing alive. We just had to grin and bear it.

***** ***** *****

But just then something curious happened, to save the day.

Baby Dumpling, probably tired of all the attention, let out the loudest wail ever, started crying, and wouldn’t stop. Heads started turning in our direction.

Without us even giving her the cue, Lola Epal left her seat and walked away.

Before Mahal could even finish her relieved sigh, I interrupted her.

Babalik yon. (She’ll be back.)

Thanks for reading!