A "sorbetero" is an ice cream salesman plying both the dusty public highways and middle class suburbs in the Philippines.
The owner of these hands, an unknown sorbetero is a man of late 60s. He could be a lot younger, but the lines on his face drawn by experience make a layman's estimate difficult.
Sorbetes, or ice cream, is more commonly known in the islands as "dirty ice cream," either as a term of endearment or as a pejorative judgment on its reputation. So-called because in the past its preparation had been notoriously unsanitary; and as a differentiation from the the store-bought ice cream the public deems more "clean."
This public is composed of both the well-off, the and the marginalized sector. Both groups, whose lifestyles are as vastly different as night and day, however are not deterred by the off-putting name. Both socioeconomic strata have members who hint of childlike excitement when the sorbeteros' stainless steel cart --- a cross between a wheelbarrow and a horse-drawn carriage adorned with bright designs and enormous wooden wheels and a distinct tolling of a handheld bell --- is seen and heard from afar. It is the Philippines' version of the ice cream truck, both in terms of merchandise, and the emotions it elicits when it arrives.
The elderly sorbetero was dressed in an old but crisp polo shirt and a pair of loafers he obviously saved for entry into churches, public offices and swanky places. In this occasion, he finds himself in one such swanky place for a child's birthday party, whose celebrant belongs in the upper crust, who might have requested his presence and his iced goods as a novelty to temporarily cater to the child's waning interest in the more common "clean" ice cream. More common because these fabled carts are now starting to exit circulation in favor of three-wheeled cycles with roofs and electronic music blaring through their monoaural speakers; a direct-selling vehicle by the big ice cream corporations who own them, selling "clean ice cream" to reach longer distances at a faster pace. It is today's version of the sorbetero's cart, an almost too literal analogy of how the big ice cream guys are driving the mom-and-pop stores out of business. The cart, once a cultural icon and an identifiable Filipino trademark is now transforming into...something that's not.
Thank you for the history of the sorbetero, this is very interesting. It is so sad that the big guys leave so little room for the mom and pop operations. This is an amazing photo and slice of a disappearing world. I love how the light on the right clarifies into amazing detail on the left. And the light on the metal is awesome. But my favorite part of this photo is how you captured the work worn hands ready to serve and the beauty of the hands themselves.
