Almost every neighborhood in our country has its own version of the “snack lady.” Back in my hometown, I grew up seeing one every day, that is before I went away to college. Early in the morning, I would hear her voice crying out the names of the native offerings for the day. Puto, kalamay, kutsinta - all colorful variations of rice cakes, were among her staple treats. A day won’t go by without hearing the distinct way she screams the names of her goodies that I can still recall it until today. 

Here in Tabaco, the snack lady goes by the name of Shirley – and she happens to be the mother of two of our sponsored children. I decided to tag along one day to find out more about what for me is one of our society’s interesting characters.

For over a decade, Shirley had been going around the streets of Tabaco selling native snacks. Seeing that her husband’s irregular income from construction work could no longer support the growing needs of their four children, she decided to borrow a small amount of money and begin her venture.

Every day, for six days a week, she wakes up at 4am, prepares the children’s breakfast and goes to the market to buy her ingredients. By 10am she starts preparing them: slicing, kneading, twisting and mixing. Shortly after lunch, she begins cooking. Most of her products are fried while the others are steamed so a great deal of time is spent frying in front of the hot coals. When everything is done, she then skillfully arranges each piece on a winnowing basket like a smorgasbord. It’s amazing how she can turn banana, cassava, sweet potato and glutinous rice into a variety of edible delights.

Before the clock turns 3 and after saying a short prayer, we are off on the road…

I figured we’ll have plenty of time to talk while walking, hopping from one house to the other, so I saved most of my questions for that. But once Shirley was out of the house, she was unstoppable. Compared to the camera I was holding, plus the small bag of fried sweet potato sticks I volunteered to carry, Shirley was lugging a far heavier load than I am but before we even reached our third house, I was already gasping for breath. She wasn’t simply walking; it was more of a marathon dash so I asked her if we were running after something. “We are running after time. People like to buy while the food is still hot so we have to hurry.” In between the fast walking, Shirley cries out her standard spiel, “Merienda tabi…merienda,” which when roughly translated means “Snacks, anyone?”

As if on cue, her loyal customers would already be waiting for her by the time she passes by. Friendly smiles welcome her and they would address each other using their first names. Children can’t make up their minds from the variety of choices on her basket. Once in a while, we’d chance upon another sponsored family’s house and seeing familiar faces, it seems like we’re visiting her relatives.

In over 10 years of going around the same neighborhood, it’s no wonder why everyone appears to be a part of Shirley’s extended family. In less than two hours, the snacks were all sold out. It was time to go home.

Back at her house, we were finally able to sit down and talk. Shirley told me that she only finished Grade 2, she can’t read and can barely write her name. And that is the reason why she is working so hard; that despite the scorching El Nino heat, she still treads the streets every day.

She proudly shows me the pictures of her children, picking out a framed picture of her daughter. “My eldest is a smart kid. She will be graduating from high school this month. She told me I had to be ready because I might go up the stage again.” Shirley admits that she gets nervous every time she goes up the stage but she can’t be any happier knowing that her children will not turn out to be like her. “I’m lucky that all of them are very diligent students that is why I make their education a priority. It’s important that their needs in school are met even if it means my capital for the next day would be less.” That is why the assistance her two younger children gets from Children International are invaluable for her because it helps ease the burden somehow.

For Shirley, the leg cramps she feels at night are no match for her dream of seeing all four of her children graduate, at least from high school. Until then, she would be seen briskly walking the streets of Tabaco with her basket of native treats.