Lamentation for Manila 2014

Philippine Daily Inquirer

Commentary 

By Denis Murphy

Situated just after the prophecies of Jeremiah in the Old Testament, the Book of Lamentations tells of the terrible destruction and sorrow in Jerusalem after the city was conquered by the Babylonians, and the Jewish leaders taken into captivity in 586-520 BC.  God had punished the city for its sins of idolatry and injustice. The Book also tells us of the people’s indomitable belief that God would forgive and gather them from the corners of the earth to begin anew with Him in friendship and love.

The Lamentations were sung years ago in the Jesuit Novitiate of New York in the evenings of the Holy Week. The haunting and beautiful words and music can stay with a person all his life. The Lamentation that follows for Manila begins with the Lord walking along the R-10 road in Tondo in the early evening, as He once walked in the Garden of Eden. In Eden He found that Adam had sinned. In Manila the Lord finds that His plans for the Philippines have suffered serious setbacks.

The Lord walks slowly along R-10, past the piers where already, girl prostitutes wait for customers. They are hardly more than children. They may have sex in the back of a dump truck. He sees the slums of Parola and Slip Zero where His children live in unimaginable squalor, packed in at almost 1,000 families per hectare. He groans, as Jesus did at the graveside of Lazarus. If we who are evil know how to grieve for our children, how much more will the Lord know how to grieve for all His children? (paraphrase of Luke 11:13)

Pope John Paul II once wrote: “Anyone who has to live in a slum through no fault of their own is a victim of injustice.” These poor people of the slums have been wronged. Society must, in recognition of their right to justice, provide much better housing. The Lord, however, sees little love of justice, and even less love of the poor.

The Lord is clearly disappointed in what He sees. He chose the Philippines out of all the countries of the vast Asian continent to be Christian. He hoped, as He did with the Jewish people, that the country would be a “Light to the Gentiles,” that all of Asia would see peace, justice and solidarity flowering in these islands and be drawn closer to Him. The Philippines has rejected this vocation of a missionary nation.

It has also rejected God’s call to care for the poor. The Philippines is perhaps no worse than other countries in Asia in its treatment of the poor, but it is no better, despite the example of the “preferential love of the poor” that He exhibits in the Old and New Testaments. In Tondo the children go to school hungry, too hungry to learn very much, and end up prepared only for a life of poverty. The income gap between rich and poor widens every year. During the Holy Week, small groups of poor women chant the Pasyon. It is the dirge of the poor.

The Lord walks among the shacks of Parola and Ulingan, hears the children coughing from deep in their chests, unable to sleep. He hears men and women arguing and fighting. He sees the open drains full of human waste, and He wonders about His well-off sons and daughters who have allowed such a display of inhumanity to fester. He sees the rubber tubing that carries the people’s drinking water as it coils through the mud of the alleys and the filth in the drains. The Lord gave Filipinos a lovely land, and they have turned it into a place of punishment for the poor. I wanted you for My own people. I had such hopes for you, and look what has happened, the Lord reflects.

The Lord walks in the stillness of Forbes Park, where the only other people walking are the armed guards. On the half-hectare lots of the rich there is still land enough to accommodate 10-15 poor families. It seems clear, however, that the well-off people aren’t aware of how ugly such a disparity is in the eyes of the Lord. Doesn’t My Church talk about these matters? the Lord wonders.

Do the rich think that the Lord tolerates such injustice among His children? If the rich were a structure of stone and steel, He would tear it all down and begin over.

The Lord remembers the unbreakable faith of the people of ancient Jerusalem that their suffering would end and the Lord would restore them to His care. Their poignant faith and trust in God saved the Jewish people. He looks for signs of such faith in Manila. He says to us: “Fear not, I am with you. Be not dismayed, I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, and uphold you with My right hand of justice.” (Is. 41:10)

Denis Murphy works with the Urban Poor Associates (urbanpoorassociates@ymail.com).

Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/73708/lamentation-for-manila-2014#ixzz34DHRHLF0 

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Palm Sunday invasion

Philippine Daily Inquirer
Commentary
by Denis Murphy

On Palm Sunday, people are likely to think of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, or of their sins, perhaps in preparation for Holy Week. Instead, I remember the great invasion of the Department of Public Works and Highways compound in Parola, Tondo, by the Zone One Tondo Organization (Zoto) on Palm Sunday 1972. Jesus and his followers entered Jerusalem, and the poor people of Tondo entered the DPWH compound. Both were peaceful events, and a delight to the poor.

Zone One was the southernmost third of the untitled stretch of land along the piers known as the Tondo Foreshore Area. Zoto, the people’s organization born there with the help of a group called the Philippine Ecumenical Committee for Community Organization, or Pecco, was the first of the many mass-based, democratic and nonviolent poor people’s organizations to rise in urban poor areas. Zoto’s main task was to oppose then President Ferdinand Marcos’ plan to evict all 180,000 people living in the Tondo Foreshore Area and replace them and their dwellings with a business center, upscale housing, hotels and casinos. Zoto sought the people’s power, which in this instance meant the ability to negotiate with the government as an equal on the matter of the Tondo Foreshore Area, because it involved their homes, jobs and children’s future.

The Zoto area was the very crowded home of some 10,000 families. Zoto was a very frisky organization, and for some time had cast envious eyes on the large and empty DPWH compound in what is now Parola. On Palm Sunday Zoto mounted an invasion. We had read of land invasions in Latin America by people like John Turner; Zoto thought that whatever Latin Americans could do, Filipinos could do better.

When the day broke, thousands of poor people lined up at the gates of the compound carrying palm branches, hammers, saws, pieces of roofing, and lumber. It was a religious procession as well as social action. The guards left when they saw the huge crowd.

The people opened the gates and in we walked in a procession, singing hymns and waving our palm branches. I was one of the two “officiating” priests. We blessed everything with holy water—the people, the wood and GI roofing that the people carried, the land, even the cats and dogs. I believe we felt some of the excitement that the Jewish people felt while crossing the Jordan River and entering the Promised Land flowing with milk and honey.

The people shook their palm branches as they do in church, making the sound of a great rush of wind. Hundreds of children ran alongside the marchers. We began with a Mass, and then construction started.

Those in charge of the invasion had a subdivision plan, a people’s plan, which they implemented. Each family got 32 square meters. They had two weeks to build, or the land would be given to some other needy family. The roads were five meters wide. There were a basketball court, a chapel area, and a place for a community center.

The families began building. The area was named Bonifacio Village, after the national hero who was born in Tondo, not very far from the invaded land. About 500 families moved in, I think, but I am not sure.

It turned out to be a very peaceful, well-run and tidy community in the years that followed. There were all types of ideologies in the Zoto area in those years. For some, Bonifacio Village was the first commune; for others, it was the first free zone of peace; for yet others, it was the beginning of a large Basic Christian Community.

In 1980 the people of Bonifacio Village transferred to the Dagat-Dagatan relocation area just north of Tondo. Each family received 96 square meters and a core house at a cost of P96 per month. The Parola land stood empty until President Cory Aquino came to power, and the rumor went around that all empty lands in Manila were up for the taking. Soon, the area called Bonifacio Village was packed with new groups of urban poor people, more people than ever before. It is now a crowded place of decent people trapped in near-subhuman housing conditions.

The people of Zoto built Bonifacio Village with no substantial help from the government or nongovernment organizations. They believe that if the government allows them to develop their communities as they think best, and only intervenes when they ask for help, they can solve our housing problems in a few years. The government must provide the land. If the government doesn’t provide land, I wouldn’t be surprised if the people start invading idle land.

This is the only large-scale urban invasion I know of. It seems the poor were more adventurous in the early 1970s than in the succeeding years. As the succeeding administrations, beginning with Cory Aquino’s, became friendlier, the people were more given to dialogue and negotiation.

Some say poor people’s organizations have been largely domesticated. It may be a necessary step in a maturing relationship between the poor and the state, but we miss the spirit and liveliness of the old days.

Denis Murphy works with the Urban Poor Associates (urbanpoorassociates@ymail.com).

Read more: http://opinion.inquirer.net/73513/palm-sunday-invasion#ixzz34DFbREeS
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Commentary : The girl with a dirty face

By Denis Murphy
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Posted date: March 25, 2011

THE CLOSER we got to the Ulingan area of Tondo, the worse it looked. This awful area is near the Temporary Housing site along R-10. When we were within 100 meters of the area we could see the dark smoke rising from the 100 charcoal kilns. When we moved a little closer, the smoke grabbed at our throats, as tear gas does. Still closer we could see men laboring in the dark wooden shacks that house the kilns, and we could hear their coughing. Finally we were in among the kilns and stacks of fuel wood and there were small children all around us in the darkness, gleaning for bits of charcoal and rusted nails, breathing in that smoke.

There are many truly inhumane living places in Metro Manila, but Ulingan is as bad as any and can serve as a symbol of slums and as a symbol of the efforts of poor people in the slums to have a better life.

We met a group of young girls who were leaving the kilns after scavenging there. Our eyes fell on one young girl whose name is Jennifer, 10 years old and still in Grade 1. She is short and thin, but what catches one’s attention is the greasy black dirt from the charcoal and smoke on her young face. On impulse I reached out to wipe away the filth. Her skin was cool and smooth as a baby’s skin, but I couldn’t remove the dirt. She earns P70 for half a sack of charcoal pieces and P17 for a kilo of nails. The girls seemed wary of us. This is the general area where GMA-7’s “Reporter’s Notebook” found 12- and 13-year-old prostitutes.

The Ulingan area and the land around it is leased to Reghis Romero by the National Housing Authority, we were told by the residents. No one there has seen the lease, so no one knows what its purpose and terms are. Why are such leases offered? Was there notice in the media of the granting of such leases? What responsibilities does the lessee incur for the poor people living on the land? The lessee appears to feel free to move the people around as he wishes, but is that power granted in the lease?
The people asked us to help, so we told them to write to the NHA to ask for a copy of the lease. Our lawyer at Urban Poor Associates, Ritche Esponilla, wrote a cover letter asking NHA general manager Chito Cruz to respond within the time allotted in law. Insecurity on the land, such as that of the people of Ulingan, is a major problem faced in all the slums. The kiln workers went to the NHA recently to follow up on their letter.

Ulingan is also a symbol of the bare survival economy the people are trapped in. The jobs they have are really unsuitable for human beings. The men laboring in the kilns are trading the health of their lungs for a few years’ employment. In the dump nearby they sort and package for sale to middlemen the recyclable garbage of Manila. They live and work among piles of sorted garbage.

Men, women and children should have better jobs. Working with charcoal and garbage can poison not only the body, but also the soul, killing all sense that there can be a better world.

We have worked there for several years along with NGOs and churches, but we have achieved little. We have tried several initiatives and we are experimenting now, we and the workers, with a modern, four-unit kiln that will replace the old kilns and produce charcoal of finer quality, using inexpensive coconut husks rather than costly wood, and which will trap the smoke in pipes where it condenses into a liquid used in fertilizers, soaps and perfumes, which, we were told, is even more valuable than charcoal.

Gaudencio Cardinal Rosales has promised to help us. It is a small step toward a better life for the people. The children will be safe from lung diseases and little girls won’t have dirty faces any more. Jobs are the way out of poverty, but they should not destroy the health of the workers or their hope in a better future.
Ulingan is a symbol also of the lack of basic necessities in the slums. The people are denied access to electricity by the NHA simply because they are illegal occupiers of the land, or squatters. Probably it is illegal to do so. Water and light are basic human needs and cannot be denied to men, women and children. The people of the area will meet and discuss what to do about the electricity.

The people of Ulingan have no security on this government land where they live. They are moved around like chess pawns by the lessee. Their houses are indistinguishable from the dirty shacks in which the kilns are located. They have degrading work. One thing that might rescue the men and women from despair would be to see that their children have a better life, but they see little hope of that.

The children should be in school. The families should have enough clean, inexpensive water so that women and men can bathe every day and clean the children well and wash away the foul smell of charcoal and makeshift toilets. They need light so that the children can study at night and so that the houses are safe from thieves and so that the families can have fans to drive away the mosquitoes.

Most tragic of all are the children like Jennifer. What chance does a small, thin child have in this world with only a year of schooling and a dirty face?

The lesser gifts

Inquirer Opinion / Columns

Commentary : The lesser gifts

By Denis Murphy
Philippine Daily Inquirer

Posted date: December 20, 2009

CAN we appreciate the great gift of Christmas if we fail to appreciate the hundreds of more ordinary gifts surrounding us every day?

Every child knows his or her name, for example, but there are many old men and women who no longer know their names or what they have done in life, or don’t remember whom they married, or their children’s faces. They would give the world to know themselves once again. An old Jesuit friend told me that when he wakes each morning, he thanks God for another day of life and another day of knowing who he is.

Water is something I, like most people, took for granted, until I went once with a reporter of Christian Aid to visit women along the R-10 road in Tondo. They had just managed to have metered water brought into their community. It cost only a third of what water once cost there. The reporter asked the women if the water had changed their lives. What a foolish question, I thought. How could water change a life? Then the women started talking.

“I can afford to shower every day now,” a woman said. “I feel clean for the first time in years.”

“Our house no longer smells. We take care of the toilet,” another woman told us.

Other comments came one after the other: “Now we can really wash the children and the vegetables.” “We can clean the house. Everything smells nice.” “We can clean the drain in front of the house.”

Finally a woman pointed to several drums of water that were stored near the water outlet. “We’re ready in case of fire. I can sleep at night,” she said.

Two years ago we had finished the “Panunuluyan of the Urban Poor” Mass with Cardinal Gaudencio Rosales and it was time for the people, especially the children, to eat. A 7- or 8-year-old girl, dressed as one of Santa’s helpers, brought her styrofoam lunch box over to the cathedral steps where I was sitting and squatted down to eat. She carefully opened the box and when she saw what was inside, she pulled back with her hands in the air, as if she had seen something priceless. She looked around to share her excitement.

“Wow!” she said out loud.

I went closer. In the box were two large golden brown pieces of Jollibee fried chicken.

It was probably the first time she ever had two pieces of chicken for herself. At Jollibee, two pieces of chicken cost P128, this is just about what the average urban poor family of five spends for its food in a day. Most poor children never have enough to eat.

In 1980, I visited the Zoto families who were moved from Tondo to the Dagat-Dagatan relocation site in Navotas. The people had struggled for 10 years to get good in-city relocation. I found one of our older leaders sitting in the 96-sq m lot the government had given her. I asked her how she liked her new home. Her old face was beaming. “I feel like I’m in paradise,” she told me.

On another level of experience altogether was the young woman with her parents I saw on the Oprah show some weeks ago. The young woman’s legs were fused at birth that they formed what was described on the program as a “mermaid’s tail.” The young woman can never have children or walk or even sit up without support, yet she is feisty and always smiling. She has finished college and is deciding what profession she will enter. She has no doubt she will succeed. She said she knows she can never have children, but she will adopt a child. She was wonderful on the show. But just as wonderful were the mother and father, who, while their girl talked, looked at her with enormous pride, love and gratitude. Meister Eckhart, a Medieval German mystic, used to say, “At least be grateful,” as if gratitude, like that of this father and mother, was the key to life’s riches.

There is an experience many priests have had, which brings us close to the Christmas mystery. They are asked to give communion to someone, adult or child, who is obviously and seriously troubled mentally. We believe some level of understanding is needed to receive communion, but who is to decide what that level is? Most priests I know give communion to the persons, believing that God who made them knows how to reach them in their shadows. Isn’t it at Christmas that God comes to this fallen race with all its blindness and darkened understanding? A less hopeful, less loving God would not come.

When we are grateful for knowing our names and having a small piece of land, two pieces of chicken, metered water and a special child we love, we are almost ready for Christmas.

Denis Murphy works with the Urban Poor Associates. His email address is upa@pldtdsl.net.

©Copyright 2001-2009 INQUIRER.net, An Inquirer Company

http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view/20091220-243183/The-lesser-gifts

A Matter of Courage

A Matter of Courage
by Denis Murphy

Development of the urban poor of our big cities requires them to have the courage of warriors. It is usually the women who provide it.

In a Tondo barangay, poor women are threatened with violence simply because they want to bring legal water services into their community. The women want the legal water (Maynilad or Manila Water) because it is four to seven times cheaper than the water they buy now, which is often controlled by mafia types. Women are threatened over the water issue even in a barangay that President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo visited and where she supported the people's efforts to get Maynilad by committing P7 million of the local congressman's development funds.

The threats can be alarming. In one barangay, a young woman community organizer received the following message: "Ginugulo nyo kami dito sa lugar namin baka imbes na tubig ay dugo ang umagos dito. Tigilan nyo na kami!" (Stop messing with our community or blood will be shed instead of water).

The threats are often from the kagawads and barangay hangers-on, the women say. They know these men and their families. It is a very emotional situation that easily leads to violence. In the area the president visited, 500 women are now dropping out of the water scheme she supported, because they have been threatened with violence if they continue.

Despite the threats, 40 women in the North Harbor gathered P15,000 and brought Maynilad water into the area, which will save each of them P500-P900 pesos a month. Families who buy water from these women will pay only a little more than the 40 women who invested in the mother meter. They, too, will have big savings. In these days of economic hardship, P500 or more a month is a godsend: perhaps the difference between a healthy child and a malnourished one.

In the beginning, only a few women displayed the courage needed, but courage is catching and the example of a few can create a brave community.

Just when the 40 women had the water problem licked, the Metro Manila Development Authority and the Department of Public Works and Highways came along to tell them they will be evicted, though no relocation will be provided. It took courage to struggle for water; they must now gather up the same courage to resist the eviction.

Such evictions were condemned as illegal by Chairperson Leila de Lima of the Commission on Human Rights. In a CHR Resolution of November 6, 2008 she ordered the MMDA, local governments and national government agencies to stop conducting evictions and demolitions of structures used for dwelling purposes unless the families are relocated according to law.

The Pope's Justice and Peace Commission offers what should be a starting point in our thinking on the urban poor, squatting and eviction: "Any person or family that, without any direct fault on his or her part, does not have suitable housing is the victim of an injustice" (1988). The poor are in the slums as a result of injustice. Evicting them and leaving them homeless compounds the injustice.

The women met the 100-plus-man demolition team of MMDA and waved the CHR order in front of them. The demolition chief talked to them for a short while, then the demolition began. Now the women will go to the mayor. At every step they are warned that they can be hurt or they can "wind up with nothing." Fear is deep in the people. In Navotas, people who have been evicted but are living alongside the demolition area, say every time they see a blue MMDA vehicle they hold onto their children in fear.

It is not just about water or other items. Resistance is the poor's way to assert that they are free persons who want to live in dignity and security. We are not charity cases or useless people. We are not here to be manipulated or humiliated. We work hard and we have the same hopes as all men and women, they say.

Poor men and women find courage deep in their hearts to do all they can about the ills that threaten their world. Can we say as much about the rest of society?

http://www.thepoc.net/index.php/Parokya-Sa-Web/Tinig-ng-Maralita/A-Matter-of-Courage.html

MEDIA ADVISORY: CONFRONTATION - CHR vs. MMDA

Residents along R-10 in Tondo, Manila look on as demolition team from Metropolitan Manila Development Authority (MMDA) conducts clearing operations on Feb. 3.

Attention: News Editor, News Desk, Reporters and Photojournalists

MEDIA ADVISORY

CONFRONTATION
CHR vs. MMDA

On Monday February 9 the irresistible force, the Commission on Human Rights (CHR) headed by Chairperson Leila de Lima, will challenge the immovable object, the Metropolitan Manila Development Authority (MMDA) Chairman Bayani Fernando.

On the R-10 Road before Pier 10, near Moriones Street, the local residents will hold before the eviction teams of MMDA the CHR Resolution No. A2008-052, a resolution recommending the imposition of a moratorium on all evictions and demolitions.

The CHR has ordered all evictions which do not provide decent relocation to stop immediately. The MMDA since Feb. 2 has evicted families without any relocation. The two government bodies will confront one another Monday at 8:00 AM along the R-10.

The R-10 which stretches from Velasquez Street in Tondo to Lapu Lapu Street in Navotas is scheduled to be widened. Some 3,046 families by government count are in the way. NGO workers of Urban Poor Associates (UPA) and Community Organizers of the Philippine Enterprise (COPE) say there are more than 10,000 families on the road. Neither MMDA nor the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH), which commissioned the evictions, offers relocation.

The CHR has determined eviction without relocation is a violation of the country’s laws.

Please come.

Where: R-10 Tondo, before Pier 10, near Moriones Street

Date: February 9, 2009 (Monday) / 8:00 AM

Tondoman’s last flight

Commentary : Tondoman’s last flight
By Denis Murphy
Philippine Daily Inquirer

I once wrote a short story about a Filipino superhero by the name of Tondoman. He could fly like other superheroes, but unlike them he could be wounded and even killed. Like all of us he had to risk everything when he went to help the poor. He wore a blue and white costume with a long red cape and a golden “T” on the chest.

He was active in Manila’s Tondo district in the 1970s. You may remember the many good things that happened to the poor during those years. He was at the height of his powers then, but he was already in late middle age and soon after his powers disappeared.

We don’t hear much about the old age of superheroes. It is not a nice time. They can never marry, so they are alone in their last years. They are poor since they cannot take money for their services, much like the true faith healers. They have no close friends and most leave their families behind when they became superheroes. In many ways it is a curse to be a superhero. The life of a superhero calls for total dedication to the cause of justice, a life that is rewarded with an old age of loneliness and near poverty. They do receive a small pension—and powerlessness.

The following is what happened to Tondoman in the last years of his life.

He lived alone and very simply in a small apartment on Leveriza St., a kindly old man who was well liked by his neighbors. No one there knew about his past feats. Then one day a woman by the name of Maria who was about half his age came to see him. She told him the country needed him.

“The poor are suffering,” she told him. “Come back and walk among us once again.”

She was the daughter of one of the leaders he had worked with in Tondo years before.

“I have no powers,” he told her. “They’ve left me.”

“We will pray together and in the morning the powers will be back,” she said with the assurance of the true believer in the value of her cause.

“I don’t think I want to go back. I’ve come to believe it’s not good in the long run.”

“I hate to hear people talk about ‘the long run,’ Tondoman. It’s usually bad for the poor.”

“But it’s true, Maria. Look at Gotham City. Have the people learned to solve their own problems? Not at all, and neither has Police Commissioner Gordon. Whenever there’s a problem, they flash the Bat sign on the night sky and Batman comes to save them. It’s no good. The people never develop.”

“That’s the long run. We need you now. It’s an emergency.”

He remembered the many times people had come to him with emergencies. He smiled remembering some of the things he had done. Soon he was lost in reverie.

He remembered that years before, he had one day snatched the president of the country from the golf course, took him 2,000 feet in the air and told him that he would drop him if he didn’t give the urban poor people of Tondo the land they wanted. It was only a threat. He didn’t intend to drop the president, but something went wrong, the president moved suddenly or something, and Tondoman lost him. Down the president plunged screaming at all the world. Tondoman fell like a rock and caught him just a few feet off the 18th fairway. They were so close they could smell the grass. Then he took the president up high, and made believe the fall was intentional. He told the president he would drop him for good if he didn’t give the land. Sure enough, the people got the land.

He returned back from his old memories. “No, I don’t think a superhero is good for the people. They should do things themselves and not rely on superheroes or politicians or anyone. That’s what I feel now. After we won in Tondo, everything stopped. They weren’t ready for the next problem.”

“Tondoman, please come and talk to us anyway. I boasted I could get you to help us. Come to our meeting with your costume on and talk to us. Say whatever you will.” They prayed and the next morning his powers were back.

He flew off to the meeting, remembering the great flights of the past. The crowd at the meeting cheered when he arrived, but he sat them down and told them what he had told Maria.

“Yes, you must have supporters, but you yourselves must decide what you want to do and be in your lives. You must lead. Don’t rely on anyone, even on superheroes. Rely on God. God alone is always dependable and always seeks your good. It’s bad for your leaders to rely too much on them. They are then free to do as they want. We should instead watch them to make sure they do their work properly.”

“We can’t fly or do all those other things. We need you.”

“You really don’t. You have no idea how much strength and wisdom you have within yourselves until you begin to depend on yourselves and not others. Jesus told us, if you have faith you can say to a mountain get up, fly to the sea and throw yourself in! If you have faith, you can fly, at least as far as God intends you to fly. Believe in yourselves, believe in God.”

There was a thoughtful silence when he finished. They sat quietly, some with their eyes closed. Time to leave, he told himself.

He barely made it home. He flew just above the treetops. He couldn’t go higher. He was like a plane running out of gas.

He made it home, hung his costume in the closet for the last time, and sat down to have a night cap. Now for the rest of my life, he thought.

Denis Murphy works with the Urban Poor Associates. His email address is upa@pldtdsl.net.

©Copyright 2001-2008 INQUIRER.net, An Inquirer Company

By the side of the road in Tondo

Commentary : By the side of the road in Tondo

By Denis Murphy

Philippine Daily Inquirer

WE sat with 12 women leaders of the urban poor at the edge of the homes that line the R-10 road in Tondo. Across the road stood the North Harbor piers. The women discussed the meetings they had had with the Maynilad water company about securing regular water in their area. It was hard to hear them over the roar of the big container van trucks that came within a few feet of us. It had rained a little while before, so the air was fresh, but not for long with all the trucks. Young boys and girls still half naked from playing in the rain squeezed through the group to get to Aling Marieta’s sari-sari store to buy candy or food items for Mama.

The women began with water, but later talked of hunger in the area, politics and family planning. When they talked of family planning Aling Marieta gave her opinion that the best method was to vasectomize the men. All the women agreed, even those who said they were pro-life. To the women it seemed eminently fair.

The families now pay on average P30 a day for the water they buy from private persons, or P900 a month. For this money they get 200 liters a day, which is below the minimum of 250 liters recommended by the World Health Organization for lower-income families. If the women can’t afford the amount of water recommended, they can’t clean the children or dishes and can’t take good care of their sanitation. Diseases result, but then there is no money for medicine.

If they had the Maynilad water, they would pay about P4 instead of P30 for the 200 liters they now buy, or a savings of about P780 a month. With this money they can increase their family food budgets by 25 percent a day on average; they can send all their children to school; they can afford medicine, storybooks, copybooks and new clothes and they can buy all the water they need.

The big obstacles are the fees charged by Maynilad: for a mother meter that would provide water for 30 or so families the fee is at least P20,000; for individual meters the fee is P7,000. The people are willing to pay, but little by little out of the money they save on water. They cannot easily manage a big down payment.

Cannot Maynilad and the people sit down and work out a solution to this fee problem? It seems a public utility backed by the government has some obligation to provide affordable water to the poor. Lawyers say there is a social welfare concept inherent in such an enterprise. In the worst of Metro Manila’s slums—the so-called danger areas—almost no family has legal and inexpensive Manila Water or Maynilad.

Legal electric connections could provide similar savings for the poor. An effort by the government to make sure the poor have affordable light and water would be a wonderful anti-poverty measure (families could save about P1,500 per month). There is little room for corruption in such a program.

Hunger, the women said, is increasing in the area. Most families now combine breakfast and lunch. They talked of the “pagpag” chicken business which flourishes there. Scavengers get the garbage of Jollibee, sort out the chicken remains, wash them and package them into: bones with a little chicken still on them, which sell for P20 a kilo, and bones with a good amount of meat which cost P40.

The women seemed to enjoy sitting together in the late afternoon and appeared rather lighthearted when they talked of politics and family planning. It was hard to know if they were really serious. When they came to politics, they mentioned support for only one candidate: Joseph Estrada. “Erap pa rin,” they repeated. They discussed vasectomy with devilish delight.

We all felt better after having talked with the women. They are poor, but they are buoyant, thoughtful when they have to be and caring of one another and their families. The families can thrive if the children could get a good education and they had a decent place to live and enough food. What a waste if they can’t.

Denis Murphy works with the Urban Poor Associates.

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David Balondo of Tondo (1922-1988)

Commentary : David Balondo of Tondo (1922-1988)

By Denis Murphy
Philippine Daily Inquirer

Posted date: August 25, 2008

MANILA, Philippines - Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino led an army of rich and poor heroes who were willing to give their lives for their people during the night of martial law. One of the lesser known persons was David Balondo of Tondo who was once a guerrilla in Samar against the Japanese, once a fisherman in Isla Puting Bato, Tondo and for a long time the vice president of the Zone One Tondo Organization (Zoto).

Twenty years ago when he was 66, Balondo was shot dead by young radicals in front of his new house in the Dagat-Dagatan Relocation Area of Navotas. It was a mindless decision to kill the old man. His wife heard noises in the street; as she ran out expecting trouble she heard shots, and then she found her husband on the ground dying of wounds to his head. Two young gunmen stood around and announced they were NPA. They looked nervously at the old woman and her dying husband and then ran off.

From the 1960s on, Balondo led the people's efforts to resist government attempts to throw them off the Tondo Foreshore land. In the end the people succeeded. The original government plan called for all 30,000 families in the Foreshore area to be relocated to some far off place like Sapang Palay. The Tondo land was planned to be a commercial, up-scale housing area and support zone for the new international container terminal. Instead, after a long struggle with the help of the World Bank and the German government, only 10,000 families had to move and these were relocated only a few kilometers north to Navotas; the other 20,000 families had their land upgraded and titled.

It didnít come easily. Hundreds of Zoto people went to jail; a number were tortured, including ìTriningî Herrera, the Zoto president. Balondo was arrested five times. Despite all this they struggled through the 1970s and won.

In Dagat-Dagatan they received a 96-sq m lot with toilet, light, water and a cement platform for their house. They paid P1 per sq m each month for 25 years and then they owned the land. Most importantly, they were only five minutes from their jobs. One day in Dagat-Dagatan I asked a Zoto woman leader how she liked her new house. ìIím in Paradise,î she told me.

Balondo never had the chance to grow old peacefully, with time to sit around chatting with the other old men and women and watch the children playing in the street, as the Prophet Zechariah promised the faithful would do one day in the future. (Zechariah 8:4-5)

He was happy in his new home in Dagat-Dagatan. I doubt if anyone now remembers the specific incident that caused the assassination, and it doesnít matteróhe didnít deserve to die like that. Nor did he deserve the movie made of his life, starring Ramon Revilla. It made Balondo a swashbuckling action star with a special agimat. His devout Methodist wife became a starlet in a miniskirt. Instead, he deserves the gratitude and respect of people because of his contribution to solving the problems of the poor in peaceful ways.

There were leftist influences on Zoto as there were on nearly all social action groups in those days, but Balondo was more interested in the concrete issues of the poor more than ideology. He was a simple man who talked slowly as if words themselves were very valuable. He always looked worn out and weary.

One night at a Mass said by the late Archbishop Mariano Gaviola, I was with the German government official in charge of overseas funding. We were in the back of a huge crowd. Balondo came over to us and the three of us talked while the bishop gave his homily. Later the German said to me, “He was like Job.” That night Balondo even had boils on his face as Job had.

He was Protestant and the most honest of all the people involved in Zoto, including the other officers, the organizers and the priests and Protestant ministers who helped the organization, the late Jesuit Fr. Joe Blanco, who was part of the Zoto organizing team for several months, once said.

Everything about the long struggle of the Tondo people, except the prison and torture, has lessons for today. People must always struggle together for what they consider their vital necessities in life. There is no other way. The government of President Ferdinand Marcos realized after years of hostility to Zoto that it was easier and more productive to negotiate with peopleís groups than to insist on fighting them. In the final years of the 1970s the government did negotiate and compromise. The value of genuine negotiation still has to be learned by many in government today.

Finally the World Bank and the German government chose the good of the poor of Tondo and not the plans of government as their priority. They told the martial law government that they would fund the development of the container terminal and harbor but only if the people were treated fairly. Such a stand on conviction is seldom seen these days.

Every group needs courage; the poor need the determination of a David Balondo to struggle. The government needs courage to slow down and negotiate: the officials who do so will be criticized by hard-liners inside and outside government. Finally the multinational and national donors need courage to prioritize the good of the poor, since the good results of such choices often take years to become visible.

Denis Murphy works with the Urban Poor Associates. His email address is upa@pldtdsl.net.

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