Sticky Rice

by Marlon

I have a friend, his name is Raul. One day he was on a jeepney, on his way to his next class. This happened when he was still in college. The national university is huge and the best way to get around is by riding jeepneys. Raul just came from his P.E. class, his hair was still wet and he was carrying an armload of books, notebooks and folders of class work. That particular day, he was in hurry so he took the first jeepney that stopped, it was full but the driver insisted that it could fit one more. Now, in the Philippines, public utility vehicles ignore the law that no two matter can occupy the same place at the same time; in fact you can sit on someone’s lap and just pay half the fare, it’s called kandong. Raul squeezed himself between two people, only the back of his butt was touching the seat, and only the tension from his legs kept him from falling. Immediately facing him is an old woman with a large native tray (woven from rattan) on her lap. The tray is filled with a native delicacy called kutsinta; a sweet, dark orange, sticky rice cake made from glutinous rice and brown sugar. Raul’s knees are almost touching the tray. He was straining his legs to keep his butt against the seat. His arms are getting tired from holding his things against his chest. Suddenly, a child standing behind the driver shouted Para! (Stop!) The jeepney halted to a screech. Raul lost his balance. He felt his butt sliding down. He was falling forward. Like a Matrix bullet time, he felt himself falling face forward into the tray of kutsinta. To stop his fall he extended his fingers out. All his ten fingers went into the sticky rice cake, like soldiers going into quicksand. When he got to his next class, he offered his classmates the sticky rice cake, obviously he had to buy the whole tray. When his classmates asked where he got the sweets, he said his grandmother made it.