Where is the Balloon Man?

One Saturday afternoon at the boulevard on my way home I detoured to buy balloons for my grandson Alec. We went to the Luneta Grandstand. There were no balloons there. We tried the Aristocrat. No luck. At the Malate Church, there weren’t any either. Where have all the balloon vendors gone? We proceeded to the Remedios Circle. Surely it would be teeming with people and for sure there would be balloons from vendors for eager children. Wrong. What has happened?

It wasn’t so long ago when church yards and parks were filled with brightly-colored balloons peddled on the grounds. Could it be that there aren’t many trees where vendors can lean on and wait under them to while their time away. Surely someone’s got to earn a living or pursue an inherited tradition. Could economics be the reason for their disappearance? Can vendors not afford the small capital necessary to buy the balloons from entrepreneurs? If they had the small capital, would selling cigarettes or newspapers give them faster returns? Where did they all go, I wondered. On a ride by the Veterans Hospital I finally saw a balloon vendor! So obsessed to solve their disappearance I called a friend who said balloons of all sizes and shapes are sold in malls, flower shops and hospitals. A lowly balloon vendor can’t possibly compete with the variety of shapes sold in these big establishments. Shoppers are forced to tighten their belts and prioritize spending during these hard times. It’s likely that buying a balloon is an unaffordable luxury many picnickers can no longer afford. Rather than buy balloons, a parent may choose to buy cotton candy, fish balls or ice cream for their kids – food over a toy.

* * *

A contributing factor to the slowly disappearing trade could be that fewer families go to the parks. Reasons like the heat, pollution and security drive families away from them...away from people begging...so, many choose to go to the airconditioned and less polluted malls instead.

They bring their children to any fast-food chains in malls equipped with well-maintained toys escaping the heat, even if the perceived notion that they’re better places doesn’t mean they’re safer places! Nonetheless all this has taken away the poor side-walk balloon vendor’s opportunities to earn, leaving me with memories. Of course, vendors stay home reminiscing about the joy they once brought to children. From time immemorial they contributed to the festive mood in the converging sites of our country such as parks, churches and ferias. I realized further I missed them because they were part of the old scenery, the old Philippine landscape and our faded youth.

* * *

I pursued the inquiry into this vanishing occupation, calling Samuel Sucgang, a balloon vendor from San Pedro, Laguna and interviewed him. He told me his hometown was in Sipalay, Negros Occidental and that he was a migrant to Manila. He arrived in Manila in the ’80s and stayed in his brother’s apartment for several months until he joined a traveling carnival. His first job was to attend to the children’s store that sold toys, balloons and cotton candy. As a store keeper, he learned the mechanics of making balloons fly and printing on them. Thinking he had learned enough, he opened his own business, making and selling balloons in a small community in San Pedro. In the beginning, it was encouraging because the demand for balloons was great. Every Sunday in the church yard he sold balloons to children who went to hear Mass and were attracted to their colors and different sizes.

As months and years passed his business became passé. Kids no longer enjoyed playing with balloons. Computers and cell phones appeared. However, he told the anecdote about a three-year-old boy who enjoyed playing with balloons. One of them was cut loose and soared upward to the sky. Instead of crying, the little boy told his mother: "Mommy, you won’t get angry, anyway that balloon is for Jesus." The mother, instead of reprimanding her son, hugged and kissed him and said, "Yes son, that balloon is for Baby Jesus."

* * *

This brings me to remembering games children played before technology influenced their young lives. Remember jack stones and sungka? They’re almost gone, like piko and patintero. I used to search for flat pebbles for my pato for piko. My friends would change their shoes to run faster from the "it." During my dad’s time their playmates would borrow and "temporarily steal" rope from someone’s carabao to use it for patintero. Holding sticks and searching for rubber bands in a pile of earth can still be fun! Grand mommies remember the P1-ring carved in the form of flowers that sparkled with silver speckles found in ice cream cones!

I am even reminded of my own stupidity. My grandson had peed and I had to change his diaper. I didn’t know that sticky tape had been attached to diapers to wrap them up to keep the contents private. I scotchedtaped the diaper round and round. What an expensive way to dispose of dirty diapers, I told his yaya. Was I silly and stupid? I wondered, where have all the cotton lampins gone? With the migration of household washerwomen and househelp to America and Europe, disposable diapers have taken over our lives giving us garbage problems. But then, alas, that’s another article.