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.

After much hardship, I managed to gather all the litters from the bleachers, including a box with paper plates and some spoiled pansit and other food in it. It smelled awful. Aling Rosa came with her dustpan, sack, and a small pile of cardboard boxes. While I was helping her hold the sack up so she could empty the contents of the pan, I moved to get the cardboard boxes she had and put it in the sack as well. But she said, “Ay, wag yan, ne. Pagkakakitaan yan.” After a few moments, she said of the men sleeping on the bleachers, “Ito’ng mga ‘to kasi, hindi nagliligpit. Akala mo kung makatulog nasa—” “—bahay,” I added. She nodded. After we’ve collected the trash from the covered court, Aling Rosa said that the open grounds would be our last station for the day.

By that time, I was already feeling really tired. Sweeping is not as easy as I thought it would be. Add that to the fact that the broomstick was rather heavy. We then went outside and just a couple of minutes in my new assignment, the wooden handle was once again detached. Aling Rosa noticed and she went off to get another broom for me. After handing me my new ammo she instructed me, “Pirmi ang isang kamay ditto sa baba. Tapos relax ka lang… Ito’ng bandang ito ang ipangwalis mo. Easy-easy lang.” After some hours of doing it wrong, I finally knew how to do it right. Meanwhile, she expertly fixed my previous broom, adding sand and shaking it to keep the knot tight.

At first, we were only on the side, near the terminal of the green tricycles. Eventually we moved along and proceeded to the open space. There were a few wrappers, some animal manure, broken bottles, and scraps of paper that I had to collect. Quite a number of people where in the open ground in various stages of activity. There are now tennis nets and benches which weren’t there years ago.

When was the last time I’ve been here? Going to the “playground” used to be the ultimate dare my playmates did when we were young. The thrill included sneaking away from our parents and crossing the streets without adult supervision. We also used to dare one another to throw haphazardly the wrapper of the BF candy we received that day. At least once a week in grade school, all the students were given special candies—with the label of the then Marikina Mayor Bayani “BF” Fernando. The goal was to instill the sense of discipline and cleanliness. Anyone caught throwing away the wrapper in the wrong place would be reprimanded and punished. We never knew how the teachers or the pulis or BF himself would know who would commit the crime. However, nobody actually dared to do so. We obeyed the mandate and kept the wrapper in our pockets.

While I was lost in these thoughts, two other street sweepers in green came to where we were. Both of them, about the same age as Aling Rosa, crossed the street. One of them asked me, “Kaya mong magwalis? Mahirap magwalis, ah.” The other one said, “Dapat do’n ka sa eskwela para may lilim. Mainit dito.” I laughed meekly and said, “Okay lang po.” They were the ones doing the asking and I just kept answering.

We were startled, though, when Aling Rosa suddenly complained loudly about a sack of trash left under a tree. “Sino’ng nag-iwan nito dito?” She asked the two sweepers but they did not know who left it. She kept asking the people around—the tricycle drivers, the young man sitting on the bench. Aling Rosa was later informed that a kagawad did leave the trash. With disdain, she informed the garbage collector whose truck had arrived. “Palibhasa malaki,” I heard her mutter. I somehow think I understand where Aling Rosa was coming from. The place, no matter how small, is her territory in a sense. She had to be responsible for it. It’s the same way we were trained to be responsible for our candy wrappers.

And so there ended my first shift as a street sweeper. With this I have better understood that Marikina City as a model city of discipline and cleanliness, like any other remarkable achievements, is not just a product of the big people whose names are written all over to boast their “accomplishments.” The success and maintenance of it is also due to the simple yet dedicated endeavors of people like Aling Rosa.

The experience may not be so grand as to change the course of my life. But it affected me in some small ways. Under the sun, my shirt wet with perspiration, I’d like to think it was almost like a little tribute to the place where I spent my childhood, contributing to the person that I am now today.