Circumstances beyond control made me put off for the next Balita issue (June 16-31, 2023) the column I was working on.
In its stead, I am putting forward two published stories I have written in the distant past.
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First, rest assured that the recent display of Victoria Day fireworks was as magical and mystical as always.
I never took my sight away from the flashes of popping and fading colours momentarily blanketing the night sky, enjoying every moment of the spectacle.
Be that as it may, I still wish I can see and marvel at Aurora Borealis, the dancing Northern Lights. Someday soon, perhaps.
Anyways, it is said that Victoria Day is the unofficial start of the summer season.
Joining people who just cannot wait for the summer solstice on June 21, 2023 to happen seems to be fun.
So, sun and summer it is!
Here is the first of this column’s two reprises.
Mamang Sorbetero
One late afternoon, my granddaughters Zoe, 5, and Zarah, 4, threw tantrums, as believable as might be, while Grandma Evelyn led them into the apartment.
The girls, fresh from school, had only three big words for all in ear range: “Ice cream truck!”
My grandsons Gabriel, 12, and Raphael, 10, joined their cousins in cheer-like unison. “Ice cream truck! Ice cream truck! Ice cream truck!”
Those three words brought me back in time … way back to my first birth anniversary party when Grandpa Antonio and Grandma Angelita gifted me ice cream, thus becoming my first Mamang Sorbetero.
I had no recollection of that first birthday fete; nor could I recall having a lip gloss of the cold treat.
But I knew. Mom Isabel wrote about the party in my six-decade old Baby Book, which I kept in my Mahiwagang Tampipi.
I could remember, though, that at a tender age about half a century ago, I took a long shot at enterprise.
Roaming the neighborhood streets in Sampaloc, Manila, I peddled ice drop. Batang Ice Drop, I was teased by boys busy with finger-flicking ‘tex’ or ‘jolens’.
Having earned my day’s pay, I splurged on Mamang Sorbetero’s pan de lemon stuffed with ice cream.
Batang Ice Drop’s walk through commerce lasted only a summer’s week.
I quit because my original tan turned darker and the ice drop kept melting on me.
Admittedly, I was a ‘suki’ of the Mamang Sorbetero Challenge: ‘Sink the silver nickel into a small bottle in a water-filled transparent jar and win another scoop’.
Mamang Sorbetero’s promo was a huge hit. For every miss, he grinned, and muttered “Tsk, tsk, tsk”. Perhaps, it was meant to be that way.
Seriously, I enjoyed staring at the nickel zigzag through liquid and rest at the jar’s bottom, as Mamang Sorbetero handed me my ‘apa’ topped with chocolate ‘sorbetes’.
While Mamang Sorbetero might have instilled into young minds an entertaining preview of the laws of physics, his simple yet daunting game made his fans also see the folly of wanting more than one could lick.
A visitor in Manila in late 2007, I resolved to look for Mamang Sorbetero.
He was nowhere in my childhood neighborhood in Barangay Balumpare. He was absent at the Quiapo and Sta. Cruz plazas. Nor was he in the Blumentritt market.
I missed him.
Mobile ‘balut’, ‘kakanin’ and ‘taho’ vendors persisted; so did ‘kik-mai-balls (kikiam-siomai-fishball)’ carts.
Where then was Mamang Sorbetero with his handy brass bell and colorful ice cream carriage that hid three silver aluminum tubes sided with dry ice and each filled with a different ice cream flavor?
Finally, I found a Barong Tagalog-clad Mamang Sorbetero gladly serving children and guests in a plush metropolitan hotel.
Someone might have thought it was a good idea to elevate Mamang Sorbetero’s iconic trade and image to a higher plane several notches above those who vend commercial ice cream.
Whatever, I still liked the Mamang Sorbetero doing his sunny day rounds and sounding off the familiar ‘kling-kling-kling’ that beckoned children to seek the refreshing homemade churned ice cream.
Mamang Sorbetero’s cool rapport with children of all ages was an experience that left only good memories.
“Ice cream truck! Ice cream truck! Ice cream truck!” My grandchildren’s ruckus broke my time trek.
I smiled. I might as well be cool on a hot humid day.
With the solstice, summer will officially arrive in Canada on June 21.
So would Demetre, Mamang Sorbetero’s Canadian counterpart, and his ice cream truck.
“Okay. Let’s see if Demetre is outside,” I coaxed.
For many sunny spring and sweltering summer days, Demetre drove his ice cream truck to Trudelle Park in Scarborough, Ontario. His arrival was heralded by a loud popular folk tune coming out of the truck’s speaker.
“I saw the ice cream truck. It’s outside,” Zoe said.
“Let’s go,” I replied, as I followed smaller feet hastily marching out the apartment door.
Once more, the festive mood prevailed.
So did the joy and experience of being with Mamang Sorbetero. #####
“For Thee They Sons …”
On June 12, compatriots in Canada and from around the globe will join kababayans in the homeland remember and celebrate the Philippines’ 125th Independence Day (Araw ng Kasarinlan at Kalayaan).
Although penned more than three decades ago, the following article will go on to re-echo the spirit of resilience and patriotism exemplified by a smiling, hospitable and hardworking Filipino population who are as diverse in culture and tradition as no other in the world.
The article, the second reprise, was then titled Ang Mamatay Nang Dahil Sa Iyo (For Thee Thy Sons Should Suffer And Die),
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Weary from a three-month advanced journalism course in Berlin, I simply longed to be home — to the Philippines, my family, my friends and my work.
On June 8, 1986, the Lufthansa plane’s intercom buzzed: “This is the captain speaking. In a short while, we will be landing at the Manila International Airport.”
The plane’s mid and rear, seating mostly overseas Filipino workers going home for the first time after long-term job contracts, buzzed to market-like life.
Home addresses and phone numbers were passed around. “Tuloy ang ligaya. Tawagan, ha!”
Bags were inspected to make sure the pasalubong was there. “Matutuwa ang mga bata.”
Over the excitement, a distinct voice made out a familiar tune … Bayang magiliw, Perlas ng Silanganan …
The noise ebbed. Bodies froze. Everyone … Alab ng puso … turned to look for the voice.
Sa dibdib mo’y buhay … then there were two … Lupang hinirang … three and more singing in unison … Duyan ka ng magiting.
People began to stand … Sa manlulupig … as the blonde stewardess and other cabin crew … ‘Di ka pasisiil … requested them to sit and put on seat belts.
Sa dagat at bundok … the chorus was infectious … Sa simoy at sa langit mong bughaw … that soon, everyone, except non-Filipinos, were singing the Philippine national anthem.
May dilag ang tula at awit … Some placed their right palm on the left breast … Sa paglayang minamahal … a few saluted, others doffed baseball caps.
Ang kislap ng watawat mo’y … A lady who lost her soldier-husband in Mindanao … Tagumpay na nagniningning … pulled out a Philippine flag, her sad remembrance of a dear life lost in a senseless conflict … Ang bituin at araw niya … and unfolded it for all to see … Kailan pa ma’y ‘di magdidilim … and honour.
The singing grew louder, the fervor stronger … Lupa ng araw, ng luwalhati’t pagsinta …
Tears welled in many eyes … Buhay ay langit sa piling mo … voices quivered but never wavered.
Aming ligaya, na ‘pag may mang-aapi … The plane’s wheels touched Philippine soil.
Ang mamatay nang dahil sa ‘yo …
Then, silence … as if in a brief prayer of thanks for having been delivered safely and soundly.
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I am a Filipino in words, thoughts and deeds; in mind, body and soul. #####
