Always a Palengkero
When are we going to get rid of the negative connotations attached to the word “palengkera.” In its literal form, “palengkera” simply means someone who engages in the market. I really do not understand why people use the term in a pejorative manner, that is, referring to someone who is ill mannered, loud, or always looking for a fight or argument. It is probably the early version of the modern “Karen.”
I cannot understand why “palengkera” became so negative. I have been with “palengkeras” and “palengkeros” all my life. My Nanay Curing was a “palengkera.” And as I helped her out in the market at a very young age, I grew up to become a “palengkero.” Most of the “palengkeras” I knew, whether they were vendors or regulars in our palengke, were hardworking and kind people. Many of them were hardworking people who took pride at what they did for a living.
Sure, some have developed a knack for shouting at the top of their lungs in order to attract customers but that is not because they are looking for a fight. At its busiest, the market can be a bit noisy—people talking and haggling over price, butchers chopping left and right, the roar of the engines of delivery vans and motors—so it makes sense that “palengkeras” and “palengkeros” need to shout out loud so they can be heard.
They are nothing more than entrepreneurs trying very hard to earn a decent living. Why do you think jeepney barkers had to shout out loud as they guide passengers? They have to compete with the loud sounds of the streets. When I was helping out my mother in Divisoria, I did that too. I would stand on our small bench and shout out. I was a proud “palengkero.” I still am.
I remembered all of these when one of my staff members showed me recently unearthed pictures of my palengke tours when I was campaigning for office. This was back in the day when I lived the life of a public servant from 1992 until 2013. I posted these on my social media accounts a couple of weeks ago and it brought back memories, not only my life as a palengkero but also as a candidate.
When I ran for public office, I was really uncomfortable talking in public to a large crowd. What I loved was house to house, knocking on doors, and meeting real people up close. I did not enjoy delivering a speech in the provincial plaza but I loved talking to individuals and listening to their stories.
But most of all, I loved going on palengke tours. It is probably a bit different now but back in the day, logistical issues would not allow us to go to a province and return home the same day. So most of the time we had to spend at least a couple of days in the province in order to maximize our visit. One way of maximizing our visits is to squeeze in as much activities as humanly possible leading up to the big rally of the entire party slate. For instance, campaign handlers would have us do early radio program interviews, visits to small barangays, and my favorite was the palengke tours.
For me, the palengke was a familiar and comforting space, a safe haven where I learned the values of sipag at tiyaga. I loved chitchatting with palengkeras and palengkeros. I know their struggles, dreams, and hard work by heart — because I lived them, too. This connection will always be a part of me and they will always have my deepest respect and admiration, dahil minsan rin akong naging isang tindero sa palengke at sipag at tiyaga ang aking naging puhunan.
I remember going on those palengke tours and some of the vendors would challenge my palengke credentials by asking me to scale and fillet a fish. I would do it with ease, of course, which elicited enthusiastic applause from the crowd. I loved it because it was like being recognized by your peers. I would hear rumors about some public figures who hated the smell of the palengke and refused to go on these tours but I loved the smell of the wet market. I still do. It has the sensory power to transport me back to a time and place that is very close to my heart.
Source:
