Three years ago my well stopped producing water, after seven years of dependable service. Since there was sporadic water from the city system, I had to figure a solution quickly.
I called the company who originally drilled the well, and the crew arrived the following day. After studying the problem the Foreman explained that the problem was a small one, and the leather thingie at the bottom of my pipe had worn out. All that was required was to pull up 260 feet of pipe and replace it. Off came the pump and the extraction began of the pipe began.
In the meantime I still needed water for the house, and, I remembered seeing a water truck parked on the highway everyday and went and spoke with the owner, a gentleman named Sonny Torres. He came to the house in minutes and filled my two tanks and said he’d be back every two days until my well was fixed.
The well crew has now pulled up about 100 feet of pipe and left that afternoon. Three to four hours later I heard this very loud crash and the suspended last 160 feet of pipe had fallen’ to the bottom of the well. In the morning the crew returned and worked for part of the day to retrieve my pipe from this deep hole. They left for lunch and never returned. They explained on the phone that it could not be retrieved as it was the wrong size pipe and it was too tight. Please remember this was the same company that installed that wrong size pipe.
They sent me a bill for the day and a half’s labor. I took the bill to my Barangay Kaptain, and he said, with a smile, that if I paid it, he’d lock me up. Before you ask about a lawyer remember where I live and that I could go ten years without water waiting for my case to get through court or until I’d paid to lawyers educate his children. In the meanwhile, Mister Torres is still bringing my water every other day, he asked how the well was coming and I told him the story. He took a look at the well and agreed that the hole in the ground was now just that, a hole in the ground. He informed me that, he was all things water, including well drilling. I figured I’ll give him a try.
He showed up the next day with his truck and a large diesel powered drill on the back, now I look at the drill and tried to figure how it’s going to get it to my back yard as I have two four foot walkways on both sides. Sonny smiled and began taking the drill apart and moved it piece by piece to the back of the house, and then rebuilt it and started drilling. First week he’s 100 feet down and not stopping. That afternoon we were talking and he laughed and said, if he ran away from the job like the last crew, that I would own a nice drill, as he’d have to leave it.
We had a signed contract, witnessed by my Baranggay Kaptain who told me Sonny was a good and honest man so I had no worry about that. We hit water twice in the week that followed, but each time I was told it was not good enough. At 320 feet we hit an underground stream, and Sonny looked at me and said, that’s it Kuya, we’re where we want to be!”
The contract was fulfilled, and a friendship had begun, I had met a hardworking honest man who processes traits called honor and dignity and I’m a better man for knowing him. The reason I choose to write about this, this week is, he had came by the house the first of the month to fill our re-built fish pond, and we had a good afternoon together and of course at the party. His son is now a Merchant Seaman, and Sonny still blames me for that. I smiled and told Sonny that all I did was answer the young man’s questions. And so it happened, three years ago, like Humphrey Bogart said To Claude Rains in Casablanca “Sonny, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship”. (Screen fades to black)