My Unforgettable Memories as “Batang Quiapo”

In my childhood, I learned the hardship of making a living early in life, seeing people working all their lives to bring food to their table.

While watching the popular TV series—Ang Batang Quiapo—by the ABS-CBN one afternoon in Toronto, many things flashed back in my memories, remembering how I spent my youthful days selling newspapers and cigarettes in Quiapo.

On school vacations and weekends, I was 12 years old when I roamed the streets in Quiapo, carrying my box of cigarettes or newspapers and meeting all kinds of people.

Here’s an excerpt from my earlier piece about Our Mom’s Love is Beyond Compare:

As a boy in the early 60s, I had this street job of washing Dollar Taxicabs. The driver would give me 25 cents for the job, and if I earned P2.50, I would give Mom P2 and keep the 50 cents. I also experienced being a cigarette and newspaper vendor roaming the streets of Manila. I would station myself at the corner of Carriedo and another road in front of the Quiapo Church; this place was my base of operation.

My Nanay would bring some hot coffee and sandwiches from Sampaloc in the morning. I usually do this little job during the school vacation. But later, I quit this selling stuff when some of my street-guy friends tried to convince me to steal shoes from Joe’s department store; at that time, I knew stealing could never be part of my life; I didn’t have the nerve to do this.

 Carriedo Street was a lucrative area for some enterprising policemen. A cop even approached me once, asking me If I would like to be his “collector” to collect “tongs” among the vendors lining up the area, but still, I didn’t think I could do that job.

I learned many things while doing this little work; I knew the value of money and hard work and became “street-wise “too. I could not help it, seeing firsthand how people live on the streets, thereby helping me avoid people tricking me or taking advantage of me.

Occasionally, I would sleep on the sidewalk pavement, and it was not even a problem how to get a hot coffee because, at that time, a vendor would go around the sidewalks with hot coffee in Nescafe bottles that looked like glasses too,

I got to work in Quiapo because an old couple renting in one of the rooms owned by my aunt in Loreto invited me to go with them there. On a corner at Carriedo St, in front of the Quiapo church, they would sell their newspapers on the sidewalk pavement.

Occasionally, I would find myself with some young boys at the Manila Bay breakwater, taking a dip to refresh ourselves. That was the time before the reclamation of that place in preparation for the building of the Cultural Center.

In Quiapo, vendors would sell all kinds of stuff—clothes, food, jewelry, siopao, sa malamig, banana cue, corn, and barbecue; lined up on the side of the Quiapo church were vendors selling candles, prayer books, rosaries, herbal plants. And on Fridays, Quiapo would come alive and kicking because the Nazarene devotees would flock to the place from morning to night. 

One of the country’s most prominent religious festivals is the Feast of the Black Nazarene, held yearly, and I have witnessed how its devotees work their way to the Black Nazarene’s ark to touch the image with their towels.

For those who love to argue and debate, the little corner in front of the Quiapo church was the best place to go. Any time of the day, that place was alive with debaters arguing all kinds of topics, even “what comes first, the egg of the chicken” kind of discussion.

At Christmas time, how could we forget the best-smoked ham in town, the “Hamon,” which we could buy only at the Excelente store near the Quiapo market? Some people would instead buy the Hamon scraps for less cost. 

The Quiapo in the 60s was quite different; there was so much space, fewer people and less traffic on the road.

At my time, Quiapo was the center of business, entertainment, religious and other political activities. 

Today’s financial and commercial cities like Makati, Quezon City, Pasay City, Mandaluyong and Pasig areas were all enormous tracts of vacant lands in the 60s; they differed from Manila, where Quiapo was one of its must-see places.

At a young age, I saw the first SM store in Carriedo; there were other big institutions there, too, The Manila Times buildings, The Philippine Free Press where my father worked, and some theatres: Dalisay, Boulevard, Times, Life, Odeon, Cinerama, Avenue, and Ideal. Even the National Bookstore, Ma Mon Luk, Wa Nam restaurant, and Goodwill Bookstore started operating in Quiapo.

Various commercial establishments and moviehouses dotted the whole stretch of Avenida Rizal, from Carriedo up to Recto Ave, formerly Ascarraga. With those ubiquitous vendors along the way, a handful of “shoe-shine boys” were ready to shine passersby’s dirty shoes, and there were some infirm and elderly beggars asking for some alms.

Many years later, when I started working at the Leader’s Magazine, I wrote about the danger of constructing the LRT they were planning to build there—from Carriedo to Monumento. A study conducted abroad warned that setting up an above-ground LRT would put to death all the businesses below the LRT—and that was what happened the Avenida Rizal became a “dead place.”

I was so fortunate to see the construction of the Quiapo underpass. Upon its completion, I opened a savings account at the newly-opened Banco Filipino in the middle of the Quiapo underpass. Upon exiting the tunnel on Echague street, the tall building of the Philippine Savings Bank was there.

I had a chance to watch some stage shows at the former Clover Theatre at the foot of the MacArthur Bridge on Echague Street.

Going to Quiapo, I would take a jeepney or hop “sabit” on a JD bus. After a hard day’s work, I took my ride home to Sampaloc by taking a jeepney along Hidalgo street, where most of the jeepneys plying the Balik Balik, Lealtad, and Punta routes would pick up passengers. 

My memories of Quiapo will forever be etched in my mind, and I will be grateful for the rest of my life for all my experiences as a young boy selling newspapers and cigarettes in that area.

In hindsight, I thank my parents for allowing me to do that kind of work, preparing me to face life’s complex realities, be more practical, work hard, and study well to escape the clutches of poverty.