On candy wrappers and childhood

[Second J109 assignment: Personal experience]

Under the scorching heat, my broom moves—back and forth, back and forth, trying to collect all the fallen leaves, candy wrappers, pieces of trash that did not get to its proper destination. I never knew I’d be back to this place after a decade as a street sweeper. 

I grew up in Parang. Marikina City. It has this plaza-like ground that the locals refer to as the “playground.” The barangay hall, the covered court, and the open space cum mini-park lie side by side. Nearby, after a block, is the elementary school where I had my first three years of grade school. That day, I came back to this place after ten years since we transferred to San Mateo. It has changed a lot, but I could still remember my younger self being here just the same.

Accompanied by my mother that morning, I first went to my Tito who is an employee of the barangay hall. He was already told that I want to try being a sweeper for a day. But that day, he still kept asking, “Are you sure you want to do this? If you want I could give you a certificate without having to sweep. Show it to your teacher.” I said no, it’s okay. I’d like to try it because I’d be writing about it.

Inside of me though, I was already thinking of ways to avoid doing it considering the number of people around and my inherent shyness kicking in. Nevertheless, he handed me the “uniform” the street sweepers of Parang wear. It’s a long sleeved shirt printed with a huge letter Q, the initial of the name of congressional candidate of the pervious election. Wearing it is like being a walking campaign poster—not to mention that the shirt could fit two of me inside.

While my mother and I were still giggling at my “new look,” Aling Rosa, the one in charge of the surrounding area and the one my uncle asked to accompany me, came to where we were. Shorter than me in height and in her late 50’s, she told me without further ado, “Punta ka don. Do’n ka magsimula. Itumpok mo yung basura at ako na ang magdadakot mamaya.” I haven’t been able to put the cap my mother insists on making me wear to protect my hair from the sun, but I still rushed off towards the place Aling Rosa indicated. It was at the side of the barangay hall, near the market place and I officially started as a street sweeper and Aling Rosa’s assistant for the day.

Markina City is true to its image. There’s not much trash lying around. I may sound like a raving balikbayan, but the place does suggest a feeling of discipline and cooperation between the authorities and the community. The marketplace is just near and yet there were only few litters I had to sweep. Probably the ubiquitous presence of trash bins does help.

After about an hour, Aling Rosa told me that the next stop would be the covered court. The place where my preschool graduation ceremony took place, I reminded myself. A guy with his brother was playing basketball when we came in. The covered court is roomier, the roof looks more stable, and the place is cooler compared to the one I remember from about 13 years ago. This is probably the reason why a handful of people were sleeping on the bleachers, lying on cardboard boxes. Aling Rosa told me to sweep the bleachers from top to bottom. Even if we’re indoors, this one is trickier than my previous assignment. Some people had tucked wrappers and whatnots between the railings, while some trash cannot be removed unless I pick them up with my bare hands. I even spilled an unknown liquid on my pants. When I’m done with the first half going up and down the bleachers sweeping vigorously, I was already sweating profusely.

I was about to start tackling the next half when the wooden handle was detached from my broomstick. I tried fixing it and my mother even came to my aid as well. We managed to put them together but it did not appear like it could handle more of my sweeping. This happened again two more times, but I had to continue. So I bended lower while sweeping, hoping to lessen the pressure on the handle and put more on the broomstick.

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