mamang sorbetero

Picture a warm, lazy afternoon in Sampaloc, Manila. Our neighborhood boasts one of the more elevated and widened streets in the area. Houses are all lined up side by side in a row. It is an interesting study. The oldest house on the street was built in the post war days and bears an unmistakable dignity with its all wooden structure. A number of homes sprouted alongside thereafter. Some of the old time residents have moved elsewhere as now, new medium rise buildings have risen and houses the students of a nearby university. Always, companionable old neighbors chat about the weather and of course, now about the soaring prices of gasoline and rice (of all things!). College kids would distractedly be walking as they fiddle with cellphones to send SMS or completely oblivious as their ears are blasted with music from their iPods. From our second floor window, I spied a handful of girls enjoying a game of Chinese garter. I wonder how they could stand hopping and jumping about barefoot on the hot cement road. In stark contrast to my three year old who is enamored with her interactive Green Eggs and Ham CD on the desktop. The curtains were billowing out with the breeze from the two fans steadily directed towards Nikki.

Kling-kling-kling...I heard a soft tinkling. Nikki heard it too. "Ice cream!!," she let out a delighted squeal followed by, "Manong! Manong!". I saw the cart stop. Nikki hurriedly bounded down the staircase. I went in hot pursuit.

A small crowd had enveloped the ice cream cart. It was a welcome relief from the heat. At the gate, she yelled some more, "Manong! Manong!" I opened the latch and held Nikki's hand. Not to be thwarted, Nikki had squeezed her way to Manong's side. Manong is the same Manong Roland who has been doing the same route since Jun was about 8 years old. And now, Nikki is his "suki". It is their almost everyday ritual. I picked her up in my arms and she starts to point at the tall metal cans. To this day, it amazes me how the ice cream does not melt after being ferried around the whole day. "Look, Mama...Cheese! Chocolate!" Already, Manong had her "usual" five scoops of chocolate ice cream in a sugar cone before she said another word. She flashed him the sweetest smile. "Thank you!" and darted through the crowd back to our gate.

I handed him the two hundred peso bill I had in my pocket.
"Wala po ba kayong barya?"
"Ay wala po."
"Hamo na po muna, mamaya o..." and with a smile, "bukas na lang uli pag ikot ko."

After he serves his last customer, he pushes his cart and I hear the tinkling of his bell.

It felt good to be home.