Ode to Mang Cesar, the ice cream vendor who made childhood memorable
If he were a writer, he would have authored many a childhood story.
If he were an engineer, he would have built a thousand and one structures.
If he were a nurse or a doctor, he would have healed many hurts and pains.
If he were a teacher, he would have taught lessons beyond blackboards.
Mang Cesar Dimaunahan was not any of those but he was everything that a writer, an engineer, a nurse or a doctor, and a teacher needed at one moment in time to turbo prop their dreams. Each dream was celebrated one ice cream cone at a time—for Mang Cesar was the well-loved Mamang Sorbetero at Gulod Elementary School, a public elementary in Gulod, a coastal barangay in the city of Cabuyao.
How a humble ice cream man was mourned by a generation of students is indicative of the inspiring life Mang Cesar lived for 78 years. He was not a native of Gulod—he lived in the town proper 30 minutes away by jeep—but he was adopted in the hearts and souls of the students of the elementary school where he would sell his ice cream. His passing felt like something in their childhood also ended. In their hearts, however, his legacy of kindness will always be celebrated.
Mang Cesar was not just the barrio’s Mamang Sorbetero; for the kids of the ‘90s, he was a hero, a regular fixture in their childhood.
And to a child who went to school without anything, Mang Cesar was everything. He would hand ube-cheese ice cream to a little boy who had no allowance on that day. The ice cream was sweet but the vendor’s smile was sweeter. Mang Cesar would even bring the boy to his classroom. There was joy on the child’s face; there was jamboree on Mang Cesar’s.
He made his own ice cream, the barrio people believed. After all, he came from a decent and hardworking family of ice cream makers in Cabuyao. From the town proper, he would load ice cream containers into a pedicab and off he would drive to Gulod Elementary School.
He was well loved because he represented the goodness of humanity. In a world where a deficit of love is somehow felt, Mang Cesar had a surplus of affection to give. His ice cream was already an experience of childhood for many—happy, hopeful, loving. Nurturing.
According to my four nieces who, like me, graduated from Gulod Elementary School, if only for Mang Cesar’s warm, toothy smile, going to school every day was all worth it. He was a cool presence on warm afternoons. He was a ray of sunshine on a rainy day—yes, he sold ice cream even during inclement weather. He had a family to support and children at school whose days would not be complete without his sweet concoction.
“I will always remember him as someone who could positively change your mood or outlook for the day when you saw him. He was always ready with a smile, as if he never pedaled under the sun. He would offer you ice cream even if you were short of a peso for his P2-ice cream. He did not count the cost. He never did,” recalls Nikki Tenorio, a chemical engineer.
“Mang Cesar is the poster boy for sharing one’s blessings no matter how small. He was kind to boys and girls in school. He did not have much but his pure heart made him a rich man,” says Paula Tenorio, who, because she is a nurse in the hospital where Mang Cesar was brought to, was able to assist him in his confinement.
“Mang Cesar was very cheerful. You would hear his bell even if you were in the farthest part of the school. Every time I would hear his bell, I would reach for the pocket of my skirt for coins. He was always smiling even on a very hot day. Hindi ko siya nakitang nakasimangot,” says Gabby Tenorio, a content analyst.
“I was one of those girls Mang Cesar gave free ice cream to. He even asked me if I wanted another cone after I finished one. Nahiya na ako,” remembers Alex Tenorio, a college student.
Mang Cesar was a symbol of generosity. He was gift to those whose lives he touched.
His story portrays the dignity of the common worker. I’m sure he wished for a life of plenty, too. But with what he had, he became a showcase of contentment, an Exhibit A that illustrated that though honest work did not equate to fame and fortune, it gave him the happiness that was elusive to many. Happiness was his territory. It is because Mang Cesar only wanted to bring joy. And joy for Mang Cesar was the currency his heart knew.
“He was part of our core memory. Good vibes si Mang Cesar. Masarap ang sorbetes n’ya. Mas matamis ang mga ngiti niya. He was kind. He was generous,” says Jamaico Crescini Gimutao.
“Mang Cesar was well loved in school and in the community because we grew up seeing him every day. He and his smile were so much part of us, of our childhood,” Arvin Pantonia says in the vernacular.
“He was already Mang Cesar the Mamang Sorbetero when I was in elementary. When my own children were already attending school, Mang Cesar was still there to sell them ice cream. His kindness was experienced by one generation to the next,” says Susie Angeles Robles, a teacher at a national high school.
In many ways, Mang Cesar was a teacher, too. Not the teacher inside the classroom with a chalk in hand but a teacher of life, dispensing cone-shaped joy. From him, the students learned to wait, because there was always a queue for his ice cream. And perhaps, as they waited in the line to be served, they learned the virtue of waiting. They learned that instant gratification is not always the way to good fortune.
When he passed on, many revisited their childhood. Mang Cesar figured prominently in their young lives. They found a father in him. He was a friend. He shared his jokes, he shared his life. And every year, he saw students leave the school as they graduated from elementary. Yet, when he saw them outside the school, he would stop for them and give them ice cream—his treat.
Like the ice cream that he sold, he was the constant happy and inspiring flavor in the students’ lives. His ice cream was happiness in a cone— for Mang Cesar was joy personified.
In his passing, a generation of ‘90s kids lost a father, a hero, a friend. But they also gained further insights on humanity and how else to treat people with kindness and dignity—because Mang Cesar showed the way.
Engineers, doctors, nurses, teachers and other professionals—who were once kids buying his ice cream—trooped to his humble abode to pay their last respects. Some were teary-eyed, most were reflective. An icon before their eyes was gone; in his wake were memories long and lasting, cool and sweet like his ice cream.
Godspeed, Mang Cesar.
