By Dan Allan Dupale
WIRY, sun-scorched, brown-striped hair crowns their oil-glazed brown faces as they spend time beseeching almost everyone that passes by to spare them loose change, jingling in synchrony with every stride. They don’t wander, they wait.
Fan in one hand, and an empty sago’t gulaman plastic cup filled with three pieces of bent’singko, barely making up for a peso, on the other – these are Rowena Reyes' tools of the trade.
Already 2:30 in the afternoon, and Rowena is still struggling to reach her self-imposed quota of at least a hundred pesos.
The rattle made by the coins in the potential benefactor’s pocket is never a cacophony for Rowena. She is hopeful that, chances are the jarring sound that is within earshot might already be the hallelujah chorus, at least, for her. In every event that a coin ensemble is nearing her audibility range, Rowena celebrates, and anxiously anticipates the moment with a mouthful of air.
Permanence never seems to be in Rowena’s long list of vocabulary. She admits she had already developed over time an inch-thick hide that lessens the mortification every time she and her daughter, Mary Joy, 2, get shooed from their current begging post. She and her daughter are currently situated in the Light Rail Transit (LRT) Legarda Station, taking refuge in the shade of a hardhat area.
Rowena and Mary Joy are already accustomed to days where the sun sets and darkness cloaks them without food in their stomachs. Rowena calls it their “dry spell.” If luck seems to be on their side, a heaven-sent giver would lay food beside them, and at times, other unfinished consumables. They don’t seem to bother, they are contented, in fact, they are thankful.
According to Rowena, University Belt students are usually responsible in giving dole to her and her daughter, the professionals and the working classes never even bothering. And yet she doesn’t care. She also confessed that from the time she is able to raise enough money to take them back to Calauan, Laguna, she will grab the opportunity and flee Manila, vowing never to return.
They were formerly vagrants at the St. Jude church somewhere in Manila, where Rowena usually earns 300 pesos form mere begging and receives rations of soup or lugaw – enough to get them by for a day or two. However, she and her daughter recently just got expelled by the new priest running the church for no apparent reason, giving them no choice but to relocate to the Legarda Station. Even Rowena laughs at the Christian irony.
Rowena wastes not an iota of her precious strength in taking her plight to a specific department of government concerned with her wretchedness. She has long since already lost her trust in the administration. For her, the pa-pogi act of the administration portrayed in their million-peso worth infomercials paid by the taxpayers’ coffers as the one who coddles the country’s poor falls nothing short of a front; a fantasy. “You don’t see that kind of government outside the television,” Rowena said.
Another thing Rowena fears the most in taking her predicament to those who are supposed to be concerned is being separated from Mary Joy. Their common answer, according to Rowena, when she seeks their assistance would be “Why don’t you approach the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD)?” But Rowena sternly shuns this suggestion. She even dreads the day when DSWD will come to take Mary Joy away from her upon suspicion of using her daughter as kalakal. “That idea is unthinkable,” she said.
No matter how much Rowena wanted to earn cash by doing laundry for other people, her daughter is always top priority. “I can’t leave her, even though I really want to work. Some employers don’t want children along with us, because they only slacken the work progress,” Rowena said. Although Mary Joy poses a big responsibility for Rowena, she provides priceless company, determination, and motivation for Rowena.
Unlike the typical stories of other informal settlers rooted originally in God-knows-what province taking a gamble in quest of a better life promised by Manila, Rowena, on the other hand, is a native of the country’s capital. She grew up and studied up to 2nd year high school in Manila. Although she considers Calauan, in Laguna where she really belongs; her husband and six other offspring live there.
Her other children have already their own families, although they can not support and sustain each other due to their marginalized stature.
Initially, Rowena’s plan was to rent a shelter for her family. Alas, they wound up residing beside an estero (open canal). Life, for Rowena, was then but a smooth-sailing ride, everyone is aboard, and being able to get by day by day until the moment they were evicted from their so-called “sea-side” residence. Thanks to ABS-CBN’s Gina Lopez’s advocacy of clearing the Pasig River, including other small waterways, of both garbage and informal settlers.
Rowena and her family, upon expulsion, were transferred to a relocation site in Calauan, Laguna. She first thought it was fair enough, and it wasn’t such a bad thing being moved to another place. Except for a few possessions they have to leave, Rowena was whole-heartedly in for the deal.
They were consigned in a place which Rowena described as napapaligiran ng damo. They were also provided a house with water and electricity. However, there was no livelihood there, and the ABS-CBN does not seem to give everything for free. No source of income could be recorded. The title of the house was not handed to Rowena. “You have to buy the food; there were lots of rice, but how can you buy if you have nothing to spend?” Rowena quipped.
Despite the austere tenets of the ABS-CBN, rations are present in the relocation site in Calauan, according to Rowena, but there are certain conditions before the settlers get hold of it. Since the area was surrounded with vast grassland, the ABS-CBN staff imposed on them a policy that should oblige them to hack grass before the ration is handed over. Talk about Gina Lopez’s philanthropic feats. The task seems to take eternity because, at present, Rowena’s husband is still hacking and slashing grass in exchange for the rations at store. “There are a lot of rations in store in their [ABS-CBN’s] warehouse, but they will not give it to us unless we weed out the land of grass,” Rowena said.
Rain or shine, men and women toil the grass in exchange for rations, which are composed mainly of rice. If the settlers-turned-laborers fell past the deadline, the ABS-CBN staff doesn’t care, according to Rowena, even if the stock of ration putrefies.
Life in Calauan, Laguna, back then, for Rowena only at first appears promising, but as time passed by, it slowly revealed the mundane reality. Even then, Rowena was still willing to bear it just as long they are together and able to get by.
The presence of a health center was at first comforting, but donations were asked of the patients upon treatment. “The donations serve as the payment, they just changed how it is being called,” she said. She compares how poles apart were the health centers in Calauan with those in Manila. She said she was willing to stand in a long queue just to have one of her ill kid checked with no pay.
If it wasn’t because of a bronco-pneumonia that hit one of her children, she wouldn’t have to go back to Manila. Raising 600 pesos in Calauan for the treatment of the illness was next to impossible. Firming her decision to return to Manila to raise the amount needed, Rowena braced herself for the hardships the city will buffet her.
According to Rowena, her husband can not leave their house in Calauan because once the ABS-CBN staff finds out that no one is living in the house they provided they will take back the house.
As Rowena sits and waits until her three bent’singko’s reach 600 pesos, she will without further ado head back to Calauan, Laguna and have her ill kid take the hard-earned cure for the bronco-pneumonia.
One can’t stop but wonder why Rowena does not resort to thievery. She instills in her mind that she’d rather be on the breadline than feed her children with what a misdeed produced. “I’d rather be copper-bottom, it’s okay. For me, morals are still priceless,” she said.
As Rowena, with Mary Joy, sits and waits for her three-piece bent’singko to reach 600 pesos, students from the San Beda, San Sebastian, Centro Escolar University, La Consolacion, Far Eastern University, University of the East, and the University of Santo Tomas will never stop serving as Rowena’s lifeline.
Rowena is a victim of a one-sided philanthropic deed; she was just of those who were on the sidelines whose welfare, if not vulgarly neglected, was consciously overlooked.
Morals are still priceless, at least for Rowena.
The rattle made by the coins in the potential benefactor’s pocket is never a cacophony for Rowena. She is hopeful that, chances are the jarring sound that is within earshot might already be the hallelujah chorus, at least, for her. In every event that a coin ensemble is nearing her audibility range, Rowena celebrates, and anxiously anticipates the moment with a mouthful of air.
Permanence never seems to be in Rowena’s long list of vocabulary. She admits she had already developed over time an inch-thick hide that lessens the mortification every time she and her daughter, Mary Joy, 2, get shooed from their current begging post. She and her daughter are currently situated in the Light Rail Transit (LRT) Legarda Station, taking refuge in the shade of a hardhat area.
Rowena and Mary Joy are already accustomed to days where the sun sets and darkness cloaks them without food in their stomachs. Rowena calls it their “dry spell.” If luck seems to be on their side, a heaven-sent giver would lay food beside them, and at times, other unfinished consumables. They don’t seem to bother, they are contented, in fact, they are thankful.
According to Rowena, University Belt students are usually responsible in giving dole to her and her daughter, the professionals and the working classes never even bothering. And yet she doesn’t care. She also confessed that from the time she is able to raise enough money to take them back to Calauan, Laguna, she will grab the opportunity and flee Manila, vowing never to return.
They were formerly vagrants at the St. Jude church somewhere in Manila, where Rowena usually earns 300 pesos form mere begging and receives rations of soup or lugaw – enough to get them by for a day or two. However, she and her daughter recently just got expelled by the new priest running the church for no apparent reason, giving them no choice but to relocate to the Legarda Station. Even Rowena laughs at the Christian irony.
Rowena wastes not an iota of her precious strength in taking her plight to a specific department of government concerned with her wretchedness. She has long since already lost her trust in the administration. For her, the pa-pogi act of the administration portrayed in their million-peso worth infomercials paid by the taxpayers’ coffers as the one who coddles the country’s poor falls nothing short of a front; a fantasy. “You don’t see that kind of government outside the television,” Rowena said.
Another thing Rowena fears the most in taking her predicament to those who are supposed to be concerned is being separated from Mary Joy. Their common answer, according to Rowena, when she seeks their assistance would be “Why don’t you approach the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD)?” But Rowena sternly shuns this suggestion. She even dreads the day when DSWD will come to take Mary Joy away from her upon suspicion of using her daughter as kalakal. “That idea is unthinkable,” she said.
No matter how much Rowena wanted to earn cash by doing laundry for other people, her daughter is always top priority. “I can’t leave her, even though I really want to work. Some employers don’t want children along with us, because they only slacken the work progress,” Rowena said. Although Mary Joy poses a big responsibility for Rowena, she provides priceless company, determination, and motivation for Rowena.
Unlike the typical stories of other informal settlers rooted originally in God-knows-what province taking a gamble in quest of a better life promised by Manila, Rowena, on the other hand, is a native of the country’s capital. She grew up and studied up to 2nd year high school in Manila. Although she considers Calauan, in Laguna where she really belongs; her husband and six other offspring live there.
Her other children have already their own families, although they can not support and sustain each other due to their marginalized stature.
Initially, Rowena’s plan was to rent a shelter for her family. Alas, they wound up residing beside an estero (open canal). Life, for Rowena, was then but a smooth-sailing ride, everyone is aboard, and being able to get by day by day until the moment they were evicted from their so-called “sea-side” residence. Thanks to ABS-CBN’s Gina Lopez’s advocacy of clearing the Pasig River, including other small waterways, of both garbage and informal settlers.
Rowena and her family, upon expulsion, were transferred to a relocation site in Calauan, Laguna. She first thought it was fair enough, and it wasn’t such a bad thing being moved to another place. Except for a few possessions they have to leave, Rowena was whole-heartedly in for the deal.
They were consigned in a place which Rowena described as napapaligiran ng damo. They were also provided a house with water and electricity. However, there was no livelihood there, and the ABS-CBN does not seem to give everything for free. No source of income could be recorded. The title of the house was not handed to Rowena. “You have to buy the food; there were lots of rice, but how can you buy if you have nothing to spend?” Rowena quipped.
Despite the austere tenets of the ABS-CBN, rations are present in the relocation site in Calauan, according to Rowena, but there are certain conditions before the settlers get hold of it. Since the area was surrounded with vast grassland, the ABS-CBN staff imposed on them a policy that should oblige them to hack grass before the ration is handed over. Talk about Gina Lopez’s philanthropic feats. The task seems to take eternity because, at present, Rowena’s husband is still hacking and slashing grass in exchange for the rations at store. “There are a lot of rations in store in their [ABS-CBN’s] warehouse, but they will not give it to us unless we weed out the land of grass,” Rowena said.
Rain or shine, men and women toil the grass in exchange for rations, which are composed mainly of rice. If the settlers-turned-laborers fell past the deadline, the ABS-CBN staff doesn’t care, according to Rowena, even if the stock of ration putrefies.
Life in Calauan, Laguna, back then, for Rowena only at first appears promising, but as time passed by, it slowly revealed the mundane reality. Even then, Rowena was still willing to bear it just as long they are together and able to get by.
The presence of a health center was at first comforting, but donations were asked of the patients upon treatment. “The donations serve as the payment, they just changed how it is being called,” she said. She compares how poles apart were the health centers in Calauan with those in Manila. She said she was willing to stand in a long queue just to have one of her ill kid checked with no pay.
If it wasn’t because of a bronco-pneumonia that hit one of her children, she wouldn’t have to go back to Manila. Raising 600 pesos in Calauan for the treatment of the illness was next to impossible. Firming her decision to return to Manila to raise the amount needed, Rowena braced herself for the hardships the city will buffet her.
According to Rowena, her husband can not leave their house in Calauan because once the ABS-CBN staff finds out that no one is living in the house they provided they will take back the house.
As Rowena sits and waits until her three bent’singko’s reach 600 pesos, she will without further ado head back to Calauan, Laguna and have her ill kid take the hard-earned cure for the bronco-pneumonia.
One can’t stop but wonder why Rowena does not resort to thievery. She instills in her mind that she’d rather be on the breadline than feed her children with what a misdeed produced. “I’d rather be copper-bottom, it’s okay. For me, morals are still priceless,” she said.
As Rowena, with Mary Joy, sits and waits for her three-piece bent’singko to reach 600 pesos, students from the San Beda, San Sebastian, Centro Escolar University, La Consolacion, Far Eastern University, University of the East, and the University of Santo Tomas will never stop serving as Rowena’s lifeline.
Rowena is a victim of a one-sided philanthropic deed; she was just of those who were on the sidelines whose welfare, if not vulgarly neglected, was consciously overlooked.
Morals are still priceless, at least for Rowena.
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