A good measure of what a Filipino is

Gabriel Ibis

If you ever crawl through Padre Burgos in Manila, you might see this frail man pushing a trike, carrying the large tin vats of taho, arnibal, and sago, calling gently, not hawking aggressively. 

He’s known by many as his channel name: Tatay Gimmy (Gimmy Panis Conos), roughly 56 years old now.

Here’s a small spectacle that was beholden to me: Subscribe to his YouTube channel, receive a cup of taho—gratis. Free taho for a sub. A barter that tastes of kindness and marketing in equal parts. The normal price, however, is 50 pesos.

Imagine, 50 pesos becomes free. Is Tatay Gimmy an angel, or is he a flat-out communist?

In reality, Tatay Gimmy is no angel descending, no saint above our messy world. He’s diabetic, battles rheumatism, and has arthritis. He had a mild stroke. Neither is he calling for any type of revolution. And yet, he calls for everyone to fight fair. To fight, at least, in an equal manner. 

But there lies the bitter irony. A 56-year-old taho vendor, sick and nearly broke, gives away food he can barely afford to spare—while those in marble offices, with swollen budgets and fat allowances, cannot even account for billions of pesos lost (yes, I’m staring at those solons.)

One asks only for a click, the other hides behind legalese. One believes in giving, the other perfects the art of taking.

So, what is a good measure of what a Filipino is? 

If you ask Tatay Gimmy, it is found in the willingness to share, no matter how little you own. 

If you ask the men in suits, barongs, and good accents, it is measured in how much you can pocket without consequence. 

And if you ask the people in the streets last September 21, it is in refusing to forget, in demanding that those who robbed the nation of dignity finally face the weight of justice.

In the end, maybe the good measure of what a Filipino is is not in the grand speeches or commemorations, but in the contrast between Tatay Gimmy’s taho cup and a government’s empty coffers. One is filled with syrup and sweetness. The other, with silence.

But imagine that. Our best shot at being Filipino, is ironically, one that is in the streets. A street vendor that showed us more of what it means to be Filipino than those sworn to serve the nation. 

Maybe he’s the good measure of what a Filipino is.