HAVE you tried turon, fried banana in gluten wrap rolled in brown sugar?
A supermarket near where I live in Anonas sells them inside a square building cooled by A/C.
Across the street, they are also sold in the open on a tray atop a plastic table near a Lotto stall. That’s where you should be around 3 p.m. to grab that freshly cooked, tasty Pinoy merienda.
That’s where I was the day I had to do the groceries.
Before leaving home, I planned everything: what to buy and where to buy it at a cheaper price and fresh. That day the things to buy are ingredients for pork sinigang. My father, the cook, had a last word: only buy fresh vegetables. So off I went.
Passing stalls at the wet market I overheard a conversation between a child in public school uniform and her mother, a vendor. She was asking her mother for baon (allowance) as it’s nearing time for her to go to school.
Her mother’s answer caught my attention: “Teka lang, ’nak; wala pang benta [Just wait a while because we still haven’t sold anything].”
The girl took off her blouse—she has sando or undershirt underneath—which I gathered she did to help her mother sell so that she could have money before going to school.
I approached them hoping to buy the vegetables they were selling.
My eyes widened because the vegetables and their condition were not the ones my father told me to buy. The vegetables they were selling were as sad as their story.
While some people choose to buy in supermarkets and make their rich owners richer, I chose to buy from the mother and her daughter who, as was obvious to me that time, were living hand-to-mouth.
I bought the veggies anyway; also all the other things on my mental list I saw were in their stall. I felt relieved when I saw the young girl put on her uniform and kiss her mother goodbye. She got her baon and was on her way to school.
As I walked away with my purchases, I knew I failed my father. I knew I compromised my favorite sinigang because of the ingredients I bought. But I also knew that I’m lucky I will be eating sinigang for lunch. How about the vendor? Did she eat already? And her child? Would she have lunch?
My father was mad at me and said I can’t do simple chores right. Gladly he was the best cook in town for making our sinigang still the best! I took my lunch in peace and so excited to eat a merienda of turon sold at a plastic table near a stall selling Lotto tickets at Anonas. These turon, for me, are better than those sold in a supermarket across the stall.
Being a consumer doesn’t end in “What I need” or “What I want.” You can still buy good stuff by also thinking about other people, especially those who work hard and try their very best to be noticed in the market. Many of them are the microbusiness owners.
Amazing for me is buying a small pouch, made by hand by an elderly man, at the Quiapo Underpass. Amazing for me is buying from a mother trying to raise a small amount of money as allowance for her daughter. I say we help them.
Their products may not be as trendy as those that could be bought on branded stores, but the memories of purchasing them last longer than forever.
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CM Yaneza, 21, is a child and youth advocate of the local operations of nongovernment group Plan International Inc. The views in Yaneza’s edited column do not necessarily reflect those of the BusinessMirror’s.