I saw Manang (uhmm I forgot to ask for her name) while I was on a jeep to Carbon Market -- Cebu City's biggest public market -- to buy some fruits and maybe some DVDs (this is Shipreck Cove for pirates). Curious about his two crates of bright, juicy yellow mangoes, I asked her if she's selling it in the market and so it started a barrage of stories from her, which really warmed my heart.
I learned she had been a mango vendor for decades already, following the same route from barangay Guadalupe (where I live) to Carbon Market. I know she goes around her neighbors to buy their mangoes, mostly grown from backyard trees. I also learned that mangoes has kept her family alive and sent children and grandchildren to school.
Unlike most vendors who complain of low sales and surging costs and diving market prices, my dear manang beams with pride that she is earning briskly. She says people continually search for her because of her sweet mangoes. And her two crates -- some 60 kilograms -- in all can be wiped oupt in two hours. She owes her luck to prayer and to the Sto. Niño. Pride and impeccable faith.
I envy her optimism, wishing silently that someday I could look forward to my work with much enthusiasm. She is a mango vendor, many look down to her and her kind, but she prides in her self and her sweet mangoes. And she is doubly happy that people buy her mangoes by the bag. That is fulfillment to her. Not piles of cash or swaggering cars and mansions.
Before I went down, I said goodbye to my new friend. She then pulled out one mango from her crate and gave it to me. "Taste it," she said. "And you will see how sweet my mango really is!" . I took the fruit, look at it, smiled and waved her good luck.
For several hours, while looking for DVDs my mind could not fly off away from the mango in my pocket. I hurried home and sliced the soft, juicy mango on the side. It was really sweet.
I remember manang. We only talked for a few minutes but she did impart a big lesson to me. Our attitude reflects shows in our work, our products. I envy her. Somehow at the back of my mind I wished life for me could be as simple as hers. Somehow, I just would like to smile everyday. And I even have a hard time doing that now.
I learned she had been a mango vendor for decades already, following the same route from barangay Guadalupe (where I live) to Carbon Market. I know she goes around her neighbors to buy their mangoes, mostly grown from backyard trees. I also learned that mangoes has kept her family alive and sent children and grandchildren to school.
Unlike most vendors who complain of low sales and surging costs and diving market prices, my dear manang beams with pride that she is earning briskly. She says people continually search for her because of her sweet mangoes. And her two crates -- some 60 kilograms -- in all can be wiped oupt in two hours. She owes her luck to prayer and to the Sto. Niño. Pride and impeccable faith.
I envy her optimism, wishing silently that someday I could look forward to my work with much enthusiasm. She is a mango vendor, many look down to her and her kind, but she prides in her self and her sweet mangoes. And she is doubly happy that people buy her mangoes by the bag. That is fulfillment to her. Not piles of cash or swaggering cars and mansions.
Before I went down, I said goodbye to my new friend. She then pulled out one mango from her crate and gave it to me. "Taste it," she said. "And you will see how sweet my mango really is!" . I took the fruit, look at it, smiled and waved her good luck.
For several hours, while looking for DVDs my mind could not fly off away from the mango in my pocket. I hurried home and sliced the soft, juicy mango on the side. It was really sweet.
I remember manang. We only talked for a few minutes but she did impart a big lesson to me. Our attitude reflects shows in our work, our products. I envy her. Somehow at the back of my mind I wished life for me could be as simple as hers. Somehow, I just would like to smile everyday. And I even have a hard time doing that now.
