BAGUIO CITY – Physical changes of Baguio City that proceeds in the lapse of time from the appearance it presents in a state of nature are inconceivable to residents who contemplate merely the present scene, according to old-timer residents possessed with eyes for details.
It happens that Baguio City is not only fast increasing its edifices but is imbibing a purer taste in the display of its buildings, both private and public.
Like travelers in a fable waiting for the river to run out that they might have opportunity to cross it, the causes of the rapid growth of Baguio City appear to expect that residents, in some reasonable time, for which they wait in commendable patience, characterize the city’s rapid growth hitherto, and increase thenceforth in the same proportion with residents.
In many of the busiest thoroughfares in the City of Pines, thousands of Baguiotes pass and squeeze past other narrow sections, jockeying for space to pause and buy a thing or two.
Or, to stop on busy sections, say “hi” and converse with a friend or acquaintance not seen, for how long, nobody knows, these local observers narrated.
English, Ilocano or Tagalog songs often waft off the stalls, from a radio set toned down so as not to stir public disturbance or jangle the nerves of high-strung business owners out to recoup losses while wondering no end why other Baguio vendors prefer to troop to other stalls than theirs.
Music percolating from the radio are often mimicked by ladies working as sales ladies to catcall accompaniment of other sales girls who would call out the singer by saying, “Sige, Mayang, ibanat mo dayta makapa-awis a boses mo,” or, “Ayna, pakawanem, kurdapya, makulingling ti lapayag dita boses mo, tumaray dagiti gumatang,” to ripples of laughter.
Sometimes, a sales lady would heartily gyrate her shapely body to the music’s tempo, giving amusement among the buying throng or passersby and while gyrating, luring customers to the stall where she works, with a seemingly infinite row of goods.
One who follows the quirks of the nose can easily discern Baguio’s wet market where meat and fish are in abundance, where greens team is the vegetable section, where fruits gleam of different colors is the fruit section, where smell of freshly baked breads waft, or where the dry goods can be found – dry as they are.
This is Baguio City’s market where fresh air slices through every nook and cranny to refresh stale air, an epicenter of retail activity, bustling commerce and where capitalists reign supreme.
There is this local saying – and perhaps true – that if we are going to hang the Baguio capitalists by the neck, they will quickly line up to sell us the ropes that we are going to use to “hang ‘em high.”
Baguio City’s market is a place where people are a harum-scarum of formal and informal persons – all naturally spliced, a condition exemplified nowhere better than at the meat/fish and vegetable sections. The bustling and raucous stalls, the cacophony of discordant voices sets one very comfortable, like hearing a normally harried “nanay,” or “mama” shouting dictates to unruly kids at home.
In the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s and early 2000, the city market was invaded by hordes of ambulant vendors who took over the market streets. They reigned supreme during those times, grabbed whatever space they can, set up their wares, called out customers and thumbed their noses at authorities.
It was those times one gingerly navigated the market’s streets, evading assortment of products placed helter-skelter along the market streets.
Romeo Ballista, a Baguio elderly, who, during his strong years managed a stall but transferred the permit to his daughter due to declining years, narrated many times he tended his stall, witnessed itinerant vendors who spoiled for an argument with passersby who accidentally bumped into their wares.
These illegal vendors, Ballista said, often came either from the lowlands and highlands. Laden with goods, they made a beehive towards the market early mornings, set up shop on spaces along the market streets with their “billao” or “bigao” full of assorted products, or these products placed on “kariton,” (carts).
These itinerant vendors, Ballista narrated further, claimed they paid taxes (kurtais) to city tax collectors to engage in business. Who knows, really, Ballista intimated to Daily Laborer.
“Propped up by a can, naturally, the bigao or bilao when accidentally pushed easily fell, together with the contents. These itinerant vendors, unmindful they were engaged in illegal selling, have the temerity to shout down anyone who spilled their products,” Ballista laughingly said.
They even organized into informal groups to control certain portions of the market streets and were backed by porters who served as toughies for them. Ballista told stories of porters, after having finished delivering goods to stalls, would usually secrete themselves in illegally constructed eatery stalls at Hilltop. By evening, many of them were inebriated.
It was during those times also that owners of vehicles expropriated portions of the market’s roads as their own “private parking spaces,” disregarding the buying public, Melinda Albitos, a senior Baguio resident said.
“With all the parked vehicles and itinerant vendors, buyers have to squeeze through spaces going where they intended. If you cannot pass through two vehicles parked, one had to send another way. The market before was, shall I say, a beehive of any way the wind blows. But to tell you frankly, I miss those helter-skelter,” Albitos laughingly revealed.
During those times, petty thieves and pickpockets freely roamed the Baguio market areas and many residents are living testaments of victims by these hoodlums who also dissected the market areas as “teritoryu,” (territory) of their gangs.
Particularly during the 70’s going to the 80’s, gangs like the sputnik, bahala na gang, batang City jail, genuine Igorot gang and the like, circulated around the city market and the Baguio City Police Office (BCPO) that time, “natcherly” suspected these gangs were in “pretty cahoots” with many of the porters. In fact, many of the porters themselves were members of the criminal gangs or were associated as a form of protection.
Stabbing was frequent at the market during those times. And drunkenness.
In came Mauricio Domogan and got his first stint as mayor of Baguio City. He took the bull by the horns and started cleaning up the market. Itinerant vendors were advised to shape up or ship out. Presence of gang members suddenly became scarce, until ultimately, they just faded from the market scene.
The market before was a study of contradiction. Many stall owners before said they paid their taxes (to some degree) and adhered to basic safety standards (which were doubtful). Others who had stalls, also had sequestered portions of the market streets as annexes of their stalls and business.
Gone also was the famed Baguio Hilltop Hotel, where many old-timer residents demurely hinted the hotel, which was destroyed by the killer earthquake, was where dreams were made or demolished. Whatever were they trying to hint at to the Daily laborer?
Today, Baguio’s city market is a far cry from its heyday of hodgepodge. All shops and stalls are fully licensed. Buyers can navigate the market with ease.
But behind Baguio City’s polished varnish, a shopping area thrives, its name, probably today, many call a misnomer. The area is called the “black market.”
By definition, a black market is an underground economy or shadow economy with clandestine transactions or non-compliance with a set of rules. But that is putting the cart before the nose of the horse.
For the words black market has something to do when Camp John Hay Air Station (older residents prefer to call it Camp John Air Base) was not turned over yet to the Philippine Government, which was officially done in 1991.
Camp John Hay, before, was the rest & recreation (R&R) for personnel and dependents of the United States Armed Forces in the Philippines. It was also a famous hangout of retired US military personnel, many of these Filipinos who served in the US Armed Forces during WWII.
Among the benefits of these US Armed Forces personnel, dependents and retirees was obtaining food and other products at Camp John Hay’s Commissary. It was at Camp John Hay where old-time Filipinos could order the biggest hamburger. Whatever they could not consume mysteriously appeared and was sold at Baguio City’s black market.
American military commissaries provide benefits of discounted groceries and household goods to active-duty, Reserve and Guard members of the US uniformed services, retirees of these services, authorized family members, defense civilian employees and other designated categories.
Somehow, these groceries and goods eventually found their way into the black market where residents greedily bought them off the shelves.
It was at Baguio black market, when Camp John Hay was still present in Baguio City, where a resident can find anything called “Stateside,” from chocolates, clothing, wine, canned goods, ham, etcetera, produced in the United States. Anything genuinely made in the US, one is sure to find it at the black market.
And it was at the black market where fast buck passes, of dollars exchanged for pesos. While goods sold there before were known by the locals as PX goods.
The name for the market area stuck. As to whoever coined it, nobody knows. And even Baguio residents are very comfortable with the name.
Baguio City’s black market today is different from its former self. The stalls have been transformed like ordinary store outlets selling the same commodities one can find on a busy street store. And instead of US products, these stores offer a variety of products made from China, Korea, from other Asian countries and those made locally.
Laila Apagen, from La Trinidad, said she used to work at the black market when the area was still the true black market. Her aunt had a stall there, then. When camp John Hay was phased out in 1991, business nosedived and stall owners were forced to selling locally-made products, Apagen narrated.
Today, anything sold at black market is above board.
Many residents hope for the day when they can again get hold of US products coming out from US Armed Forces Commissaries. But an impossible dream, it is.
