God bless Lolo Ikong

Sometimes you see God’s face in random people you meet. Last week, I saw it (as in Matthew 25:40) in the age-worn face of Lolo Ikong, a bent old man of 80 years pushing a little cart fitted with a styrofoam chest that had clearly seen better days, packed with ice candy of various flavors in frozen little plastic bags.

We had been hearing his faint little bell tinkling outside once in a while in recent months. My son-in-law had bought from him before, mostly out of sympathy. This time I thought I’d meet him myself, intrigued why someone his age would walk kilometers of roads around our area to earn what must be a meager living. We had just finished lunch, and confirming that he hadn’t had his, my wife and I offered him a meal and sat down with him, eager to know his life story.

He isn’t even from our town of Los Baños, we learned, but lives in Barangay Dayap in Calauan, two jeepney rides and some 45 minutes away. Yet he sees it worthwhile to come all the way to our area to sell his wares, which for him is a daily load of 80 pieces of ice candy that he gets from a supplier in the town of Bay, between his town and ours. Selling them at P15 apiece, he said he nets up to P400 a day. When unable to sell everything, especially on rainy days when he couldn’t move around much, he could return the unsold pieces without charge.

Does he ever get harassed, we asked, by thieves or policemen as he plies his daily route? No, he said; on the contrary, “people are generally kind to me—in fact, policemen help me cross the street and buy from me regularly.” It’s easy to see why people’s hearts melt upon encountering this soft-spoken old man patiently making his rounds.

When we asked about his family, he told us that his wife used to do laundry, but stopped when she started suffering from vertigo (“laging nahihilo”). They live together with a son, two daughters, and two grandchildren, one from each daughter. The son, who is single, drives a tricycle, and once tried for a job overseas, only to be cheated by the recruiter who ran away with money they raised by mortgaging the land where their humble home stands. One daughter was abandoned by the father of her now 12-year-old daughter while pregnant with her, while the other daughter with a 10-year-old son has a husband whose job takes him to faraway provinces for weeks, sometimes months at a time.

Asked about his past work, he told us that as a young man, he cleared land and built transmission towers for a power contractor. Later he eventually settled on working in rice fields in their area as a hired farm worker, his occupation for over 40 years. Now hard of hearing and with failing eyesight — his right eye appeared half closed — his legs and feet are clearly still good for walking several kilometers a day, even with his slightly bent posture. He neither drinks nor smokes, he proudly declares, which he thinks explains his good health. He swore he has no difficulty walking up the sloping road leading to our house (“di naman ako hinahapo”), and yet my wife and I find ourselves breathless when we walk the same uphill climb as part of our regular quarantine exercise. As if to prove his age, he pulled out from deep in his pocket and carefully unwrapped, from two separately rolled clear plastic bags, his senior ID card, from which we got his name: Teodorico Lesigues, born July 1, 1941. On the space marked “Illness,” it says “None.”

I suppose that’s what gives him the confidence to ply his punishing route every day. Beyond his family’s needs, he’s raising money to redeem the mortgage that was cheated out of them by their son’s recruiter. The provincial sheriff had already come to evict them, but apparently desisted after they showed they had managed to make small payments to their creditor (“nagbabayad naman kami kahit paunti-unti”). But he also believes his daily grind does him good. “Mabilis akong tatanda kung sa bahay lang ako (I will age faster if I stayed at home),” he declares. And he’s right.

I’d bet that his family couldn’t keep Lolo Ikong at home, even if they tried. Even so, the man deserves an easier life. God bless him, and all the Lolo Ikongs in our midst.

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