You grow up starving. You do not know what being full feels like. You stand outside local restaurants watching other kids eat. When Manong Guard sees you, he eschews you away with his baton because you’re dirtying up the storefront window and says you’re bad for business. You salivate at the thought of eating Jollibee fried chicken, buchi from Chow King, or mechado from the local carinderia. Most days, you come home hungry. At home, your mom pours hot Nescafé coffee on a bed of rice so at least you’ll have sabaw. You eat coffee and rice everyday — sometimes only once a day.
To alleviate your hunger, you join your kalaros and instead of playing holen, patintero, or agawan base, you beg for money on Shaw Boulevard. From 4–7 pm, the best and brightest of Mandaluyong City are all stuck in traffic, so you exploit this form of imprisonment to beg for money. You make sure you put your sad face on — you realize they give you more when you do.