The story below was a personal account of the author about his ordinary encounter with a

Champorado vendor which made him realized how lucky he was.

Another Universe

Kurt Joshua O. Comendador

He was about my age and about my size. He first approached us while we were eating at a cottage at
a spring resort.

“Champorado mo, Ma’am. Sir”, he said. “Init pa.”

Champorado. Chocolate porridge. Still hot. I declined.

I watched him as he went on his way, selling champorado in a small pot to other resort- goers. He
might have more customers if only he has better container than peddle an iron pot.

I took a plunge into the

cold. Everything was
familiar. Too familiar
even: The laughter of
the persons around me,
the giant splash as a kid
cannonballs into the
water, the off-key
singing from a karaoke
booth, the jovial mood,
and the calming effect as I
float in the spring water. I
always believe that cold
waters cleanse the body
and the mind from any
stress. It’s like floating in your own universe, as I like to describe it.

Then there he was again, walking on top of the wall that separates the water into smaller pools.

“Champorado, Champorado. Init pa,” he shouted, hoping someone would buy his hot champorado.

“I want to eat some more. Do you like to have some champorado?” I asked my girlfriend.

“No, would you like to buy?”

“We still have siopao in the bag.”

From the water, I watched him as he peddled his pot. I noticed that it was not only small, it was also
blackened by soot; he must’ve used it over open fire frequently. We kept swimming until twilight.
The people began to thin down; but he kept on peddling his champorado.

I let my girlfriend change her clothes first while I sat on a circular bench nearby. I noticed a guy,
looking so miserable, sitting next to me. On his side, on the bench, was the small, sooty pot. He must
be the champorado vendor. I figured. On his other hand was a slipper. I saw that the front strap
broke.

He remorsefully shook his head. I held back tears.

I watched as he tried reattaching the broken strap. Unconsciously, I followed him with my eyes as he
softly placed his slipper on the ground. He tried wearing it, but it immediately broke again. Then I
noticed something- he was wearing two different footwear. On his left foot is a slide slipper, the one
athletes commonly wear, while on the other foot, the one that broke, is a traditional flip-flops.

I wanted to help him - maybe give him some money to buy a new pair of slippers. But money, I have
none too plenty, I might need it on the way home. Give him my old pair of shoes? I can’t drive my
motorcycle bare-footed. I might get caught by the traffic enforcers. I saw plenty of slippers repaired
by sticking a wire through the rubber to hold it down. The least I can do is to help him fix his slipper,
but the resort is too dark to find any wire that might be laying on the ground.

I wanted to say something, but no words came out of my mouth.

After a while, he went inside the changing room, carrying his pot on one hand, and his slipper on the
other. He also had a backpack, I concluded that he might have carried his utensils there.

I was left alone. Trapped in another universe.

He was about my age and about my size. We could’ve been similar in many ways; he might also be
the eldest, he might also have four siblings. He might also want to plunge into the cold, spring water.
I liked to ask him questions: Where he lives, was the champorado sold out, what happened to his
slippers and what he would do next.

But the biggest question was for myself: would I do the same if circumstances dictate me so?

My girlfriend finished changing. It was already my turn. He still didn’t come out.

I tried to take my mind off of him while I change into dry clothes. It bothered me why it took so long
inside the changing room. Was he able to fix his slipper? I had no way of knowing. When I got out,
out of the dusk, at a distance, I saw the vendor. He had backpack to be exact., there was a little light
to see him clearly. He was sort of walking with a drag. I just hoped he gets home safe and sound. It
was already dark when we were ready to leave. The frogs already began their chorus. To me, it
sounded like a woeful dirge.

I wanted to jump into the cold again- to wash my guilt away.