Ramblings from the Street

I LOOKED, I'm sure I did. I was crossing Gonzaga St. from a hardware store towards Central Market to buy fruits when I took a misstep that caused my thong sandals to fold up double beneath my feet. The sole had separated. I had no choice but to continue crossing and this time with a funny gait because my left sandal was flapping. The sandals are of genuine leather but 'tis my favorite footwear during rainy days and had been submerged into a thousand puddles so it's no wonder that my present embarrassment was merely payment exacted for the sin of negligence. Every step created a slapping sound on the pavement so I had to be as discreet as possible when walking.

I told myself that I couldn't continue sliding around downtown like that so I ducked into a shoe store to get myself a new pair. Along Gatuslao St. is La Moda Filipina where I decided to buy slippers because it was cheaper than buying shoes. The shoes I don't have need for but the slippers I could use. I bought imitation Le Chic for P85. The real ones (real leather) can be found at BSE at Plaza Mart at almost P400. I bought some pairs before to send to thrilled friends in the US. Remember when Le Chic was the rage? I remembered that my classmates at piano lessons with Miss Angeles Hilado would go to the lessons in Le Chic. 'Twas a status symbol so 'twas forgivable to go out of the house in house slippers - a definite no-no to my parents. I had to wear proper shoes at all times when outside the house (except at the beach, silly). Now, people walk the streets in chinelas and "smagols" (thanks to the Havaianas craze) so what difference did it make if I finished my errands in house slippers? Still, I'd never want to be caught dead in those.

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I thought, "While I'm at Central Market area, why don't I have my sandals repaired?" I found one repairman and I asked him if he could repair the pair. He spat on the ground and said he was not only going to glue the soles but sew them as well. I asked, "How much for that?" He said, "Sixty pesos." I didn't know if that was an okay price or too much. I feigned shock. "What? Sixty pesos?" I paused. He looked at me waiting for the next line - the de rigeur haggling. "Can you repair them for fifty bucks?" He readily agreed. "How long will it take you to do that?" "Twenty minutes." "Fine. I'll do some errands and come for them. May I pay you later?" He nodded, so, off I went wondering if fifty pesos was still too much.

Was I being miserly or was I just stuck in the 1980's when jeepney fare was 65 centavos for students and regular was 0.75? I don't really know standard prices for things like shoe repair. I chided myself for being mean. Gee, girl, the guy has to eat, you know, and organic rice is at least P45 a kilogram (sold at the back of the Capitol Building). Provided that ordinary rice is at one-third the price of organic, food prices can cause the previous generation to freak out. Mom recalled that when she'd give Tia Puring our cook P20 marketing money the cook would complain that the amount was too much - 'Day, the basket will be too heavy to carry.

During a research I did last year, I discovered that if a housewife had to prepare lunch in 1941, P1 would be enough to buy the following: a ganta of rice, a kilo of pork or beef, one medium-sized bangus (milkfish), one native chicken, some eggs. How so? Rice was at P0.15 - P0.17, meat P0.40, bangus P0.15, chicken P0.20, and eggs at one centavo. A box of matches cost two centavos. If your lunch guests cared for a smoke, a pack of Camel, Chesterfield or Lucky Strike cost 20 centavos.

For your information, the side street where the fruits are was opened to connect R. de Luzuriaga St. with J.V. Gonzaga St. For years, it remained nameless and it was only in 1922 that it was named (after Philippine hero Andres Bonifacio.)

Did you know that Gatuslao St. used to be called Washington? And that Locsin St. was named Smith St.? I remember when I was in high school that we'd smirk at anyone claiming to come from Smith. That used to be a red-light district, so, any girl who lived there was suspect of dabbling in the trade. That was cruel of us to be judgmental so God forgive us for drawing hasty conclusions. (Nextstop Negros Tours can organize a Central Market Tour. Nextstop is on Facebook.)

When I returned to Mr. Repairman, he still was stitching a sandal. I watched how his fingers deftly pushed a large needle with a hooked point that he looped a string onto and pulled back causing the string to pass through the sole.

Wowsers! So, that's how these guys do it. I watched how, when sewing was over, he rubbed black dye with a toothbrush and Broadway shoe polish with a denim cloth. For the final stage, he passed a shoe brush over the pair. I remembered when the gentlemen of yesterday would sit on the plaza benches to have their shoes polished. The shoeshine boys did brisk business then. It seemed that the hoi polloi did dress smarter and neater and more decent before and this was even more evident during Sundays when people had to don their Sunday Best. Dad once ordered me back to change when he saw me dressed in jeans and wearing a pair of bakya. "Denim" to him was synonymous with "dirty". Even though dad grew up poor, he was nattily dressed as an adult and used to always wear white that some people mistook him for a doctor. Now, I see people wear jeans to a wedding and shorts to church. Egad!

Back to my sandals, they looked so spiffy that not only did I want to pay the repairman the original price of P60 but also pay him extra. (I looked around for elves but couldn't find any.) He said that he had been at this trade for 25 years right on the same spot. At first he was wary in his answers when I questioned him about his tools. Was he afraid that I'd set up shop right next to him? But when I praised his handiwork to high heavens he loosened up and took pride in what he's doing. As I handed him my money, I said to myself, "That's one hard-earned 50-peso bill."

As the world turns and technology changes in a flash, nothing can still replace the human touch. Shoe repairmen, street cleaners, cargadores, sastres and custoreras, the hawkers and vendors, are still indispensable to our society and all contribute to the economy. Labor is honorable and essential to life that 2 Thessalonians 3:10 says that "if a man will not work, he shall not eat."