IN THE midst of Cebu’s busy streets, amidst the aroma of charred barbecue and the cries of vendors calling “Ari mo diri, Ate! Kuya! Lami diri!,” a cultural narrative brews—one that is now threatened by impending policy changes.
As the City Government clamors for stricter rules in public markets, such as the new “One Vendor, One Stall” policy in the Carbon Market, street food vendors are once more at the eye of a storm. On the line: not only space, but income, identity and Cebuano street culture itself.
From Tisa’s legendary siomai to the vibrant kwek-kwek skewers, tempura and green mangoes piled high with bagoong, Cebu’s street food is as varied as it is bountiful. It is a canvas of tastes heaped in banana leaves and plastic bags, providing sustenance, solace and a sense of home.
“Selling here isn’t just a job. It’s our way of life,” said Aling Carmel, a seasoned vendor in Colon who has sold barbecue for over 12 years. “My customers have seen my children grow up. They come not just for the food but to check on how we’re doing.”
Food here is not just something to eat. It’s social glue. Strangers turn into friends over commingling sauces and tales, and a street snack can easily ignite lifelong friendships.
But behind the friendly facades of such food stalls lies a different reality, one of daily bustle and unpredictability.
Sellers fight ruthless competition much of the time, bellowing over each other to get passersby’s attention. Most operate without much clean water or adequate sanitation. Others struggle with convoluted permit systems, surprise visits and large fines that can result in sudden shutdown.
Carl John Dela Fuente, the founder’s grandson at Elintz Siomai in Tisa, emphasized the balance between conformity to trends and staying true to tradition.
“Customers see everything. If we deviate from our original flavor too much, we lose their trust. Consistency is not merely a strategy, it’s our guarantee to them.”
Salesmen such as Carl are not merely traders. They are guardians of tradition some serving dishes handed down through generations. Their stalls, no matter how humble, turn pavements into vibrant spaces of communication and shared experience.
The Cebu City Market Authority claims that the “One Vendor, One Stall” policy would decongest the city’s biggest markets and put them in order. But critics say the action risks pushing out small, independent vendors who depend almost entirely on maximum foot traffic and street exposure in order to make a living.
In places like Carbon, where business thrums in every alleyway, these regulations imperil the livelihood of those who make up the city’s underground economy.
Yet, against all odds, Cebu’s street food vendors persist, nourishing thousands every day, bringing residents and tourists alike into the beat of city living and infusing the city’s spirit into each mouthful.
As regulations harden and policies change, one thing is certain: these vendors do not just sell food. They sell culture, connection and community.
Because in every bite of Cebu’s street food, we taste more than flavor—we taste its soul.