by Lucia Silva and Menchani Tilendo
The Kadamay Village: This is how the residents occupying various idle housing units in Pandi, Bulacan refer to their community.
The houses in Pandi 3
The sun glares angrily from up above as its rays hit the slanted roofs of the rows and rows of little houses in Pandi 3, one of the six relocation sites in Bulacan. The dry orange paint of the haphazardly made houses greatly complemented the extreme heat that threatened to crack the skin and dry the throat. But the high spirits of the masses cannot be silenced by the intense heat. A mass leader stood tall above an old white truck, speaking amidst the sea of agitated masses, screaming loudly for basic social services, for work, for appropriate wages, for land, for education and most especially for free and quality housing for the poor. People from all walks of life brave the intensifying heat and the angry bouts of dusts that threaten to choke them.
They have labelled themselves maralitang-lungsod, passionately conscious of their disposition, their struggles and their history, passionately fueled by their collective action. As the mass leader’s words are illuminated by the booming speakers, as the masses respond to the calls, as a million specks of dust rise up to the eye level from the angry feet that trample it, as the sun continues to glare and as the Kadamay flag wave with the spank of the occasional wind, the masses are adamant and agitated.
They have called themselves the maralitang-lungsod and they are more than ready to fight.
The Kadamay flag standing tall amidst the rubble
Overview
The Duterte administration has once again failed to uphold its promise of change as it left the people of Pandi, Bulacan houseless. Pandi, along with other nearby towns in Bulacan served as a relocation site supposedly for the urban poor families without decent housing. As if these families do not suffer from lack of sustaining jobs, poor wages and benefits, the National Housing Authority (NHA) also issued them a notice of eviction unless they undergo the legal process of securing their own houses. With a housing still exclusive of own water system and electricity, the residents remain assertive in fighting for their right to housing through organizing themselves and taking the matters in their own hands.
The houses are unfinished and perfectly identical
The Kalipunan ng Damayang Mahihirap (Kadamay) is a mass organization for the urban poor communities which primarily organized the #OccupyPandi movement on March 8. Their occupation of various units in Pandi, Bulacan is instigated not only by the absence of government support, but also by its allocation of these empty houses to members of the Armed Forces of the Philippines and the Philippine National Police. According to reports, there are 53,000 empty housing units intended for the police and military but there is a glaring number of 49,000 applicants that are yet to be processed. These units have been idle for three to five years.
Ka Bea, the National Spokesperson of Kadamay, expressed her disappointment with various government agencies which according to her deliberately dismissed their legitimate calls for demanding their basic social services.
“Ngayon ay nasa 9000 sa aming mga kasama ang walang sariling bahay. Ang mga isyu naming ay nilapit na naming sa halos lahat ng ahensya ng pamahalaan katulad ng NHA, hanggang sa Malacañang, ngunit hanggang ngayon ay wala pa rin silang tugon. Kami ay mga lehitimong residente ng Bulacan skwater sa sariling bayan,” Ka Bea said.
Residents have constructed makeshift fences
According to Kadamay and its member chapters, there are 12,000 residents who were victims of various demolitions from Manila, and are forced to transfer to Bulacan. These residents eventually became members of Kadamay, forging stronger calls for free and accessible housing. All the way from Manila, these residents are still subjected to violent displacements event in Bulacan. Since August 2016, these residents have been continuously evicted from the housing units. The NHA regularly conducts their house-to-house to ask for the names of the occupants, and if they find out that these occupants did not undergo the legal process of acquiring their house entitlement, they are automatically issued with a notice of eviction.
According to Ka Bea, this process imposed by the NHA has become a tool for the government to repress the ordinary citizens and further deprive them of housing slots. “Ang sinasabi natin ay ang proseso ng gobyerno ay hindi naglilingkod sa mahihirap at pinipili lamang nila yung pwedeng makakuha ng pabahay”, she added.
These severe conditions that the urban poor community of Pandi, Bulacan remain to be the compelling reasons for the members of Kadamay to mobilize their ranks and occupy the thousands of idle houses. As of March 18, there were already 8,000 occupied houses out of the 10,000 remaining.
This housing problem experienced by the residents of Bulacan magnifies the lack of government’s priority in providing the basic social services such as healthcare, education, transportation and jobs to the Filipino people. This is why progressive organizations and groups across the country have continued to show their solidarity with Kadamay and all the members of the urban poor community. These groups include Anakbayan, League of Filipino Students, Kabataan Partylist, National Union of People’s Lawyer, Bayan, Karapatan, Gabriela, Makibaka, etc. Groups that derive their strength and composed of the basic masses themselves.
The people of Pandi, with their resilience, knows clearly that the government’s deprivation and oppression is an attack on their fundamental rights. The Duterte administration has intensified the mechanisms to exploit the people either through extracting profit from the moneyless or trampling on their rights to organize and fight.
The small stories
Jiezel Bernal, 18, a working student and member of Kadamay
The Bernal Family
Jiezel Bernal is an 18-year old member of Kadamay. She is poised to graduate from junior high school this March. The unit that Jiezel’s family occupied in Pandi 3 was just like any other unit in the area. The small house was bare. The comfort room does not have a toilet bowl. The sink has no faucet. The electric wirings are strewn haphazardly and foot-length pieces of rusted metal protrude from the walls. But Lisa and Joel, Jiezel’s parents said that this is much better than the small room that they rent for 2,000 a month in Bocaue, Bulacan. A big burden for Lisa and Joel who sells packed seasonings in wet markets all over the metro, at the same time sending their children to school. Jiezel vows that they will stand their ground in Pandi 3 even as she juggles intensive schoolwork and helping out in her family’s small business. As she will proceed to Grade 11, she said that she wants to pursue the Accountancy and Business Management track in order to improve their family business.
As Mang Joel said, “Iba kasi talaga pag may sarili kang bahay na matatawag mong iyo.” The Bernal family laments the deaf ears that the administration has given in answer to their calls. But as they sit in the thin mat they have placed on the floor of the unit they occupied, as they drink water from time to time to counter the extreme heat, as they munch on rice and galunggong, and as they look at Jeizel, their family’s so-called breadwinner, their hearts, despite being filled with unease for what is yet to come, are filled with hope as well, that someday, the unit where they sit and eat will become a home that they can surely call their own.
Neneng Ismael, 52 and her jug of orange juice
Atlantica, the relocation site near Pandi 3 is a similar site, except the houses are painted yellow. In a small shade under a makeshift little wooden shed sits 52-year old Neneng Ismael scooping ice-cold orange juice from a jug and pouring it into little plastic cups. Aling Neneng has straight, long black hair with the occasional strand of white and she wears big black old sunglasses to protect her eyes from the heat and dust. Aling Neneng was a native of Aklan in the Visayas but went to Manila in search of a greener pasture when her home was destroyed by the ravaging winds and water of Typhoon Yolanda. As she sits by the concrete stairs in the unit she occupied, she breathed a deep sigh as she unearthed from her old beaten-up bag some photos and documents.
The photos were of her and her 10 children, 5 girls and 5 boys and the papers were medical certificates and pera padala receipts from her daughter who works in Bahrain. Aling Neneng’s husband was left in Aklan so she single handedly feeds and take care of all her children. She is haunted by the nightmarish memories of the mud that ate her home in Aklan and so prays to the Lord that she may be able to own a unit in Atlantica. As Aling Neneng retells the story of her childhood, her teenage years, the typhoon that killed a piece of her life along with her hope of finally having a home that she can call her own, tears run down her face like waterfalls but with the move of her hand and the lifting of her lips to form a nostalgic smile, Aling Neneng was once broken, but still here today, alive and kicking.
Gerry Lucena eating with his wife and children
In the unit beside Aling Neneng’s, 47-year old Gerry Lucena sat shirtless, having a very late lunch with his wife and three daughters. Mang Gerry could well be called the epitome of infamous Filipino personality, Juan de la Cruz. Mang Gerry used to work in Quezon province as a farmer, tilling the land that is not his own. During harvest time, only 10% goes to Mang Gerry while 90% goes to the owner of the land. Agrarian reform ignored and neglected Mang Gerry as he worked in dire conditions, receiving a share that is way below his labor and effort. This oppressive arrangement pushed him to engage in fishing. Still, just as he did not have his own land, he possessed no fishing boat of his own. Worse, the revenues were very minimal due to sea life degradation and calamities.
Mang Gerry even tried working in an Abaca and coconut plantations in Bicol and Aurora but farmers like him, despite doing all the hard labor and tedious tasks end up with the smallest percentage. Mang Gerry was left with no choice and decided to try his lack in Bulacan. There, he started decade long uncertainties and injustices of being an on-call construction worker, earning 450 pesos a day, evidently way below the legal minimum wage. Mang Gerry remembers and retells instances during construction where he stands only a few moments from deadly accidents due to extreme fatigue, dehydration and lack of sleep. “Pagmimina na lang ata ang hindi ko nasubukan,”, Mang Gerry laughingly said in jest.
His wife meanwhile is a small time carinderia vendor beside highways. She cooks and serves food, washes dishes, and everything in between, earning 130 pesos a day. From paying 2000-peso rent a month exclusive of water and electricity and sending three children to school, money is indeed very tight in the household. And even as a food server and construction worker, Mang Gerry and his wife live in constant contradictions characterized by periodical hunger and lack of a house that they can call their own. Mang Gerry’s three daughters are in Grade 6, Grade 3 and Grade 1. As he leans upon the door of the unit he hopes to own someday, Mang Gerry looks at his daughters with pride. He has gone and worked everywhere, in the mountains, the sea and now in the plains. Just like countless other masses who are driven away from the rural farmlands by oppression and exploitation by gigantic landowners, Mang Gerry is not a stranger to the multi-dimensional manifestations of poverty and not hesitant to call and fight for his rights either.
The residents of Villa Elisse
Aling Crisanta who has been waiting for 17 years for a housing unit
A few kilometers away from Atlantica and Pandi 3 stand another relocation that was occupied by the maralitang-lungsod. Villa Elisse as they call it is just like Atlantica and Pandi 3, with some houses without doors or windows and toilet bowls, except that the walls are painted white. When entering the blocks of houses being occupied one is welcomed by the smiles and nods of elders, women and children. Bhaby Cruz, Villa Elisse organizer calls the neighbors in a loud booming voice. Almost as immediately men, women and children emerge from the unsuspecting little houses, pouring into the rocky streets and finally gathering into a unit whose floors are lined with multi-colored tarpaulins and the walls lined with drying clothes. Aling Bhaby sits in a plastic stool and began to recount the story of their occupation.
Most of them are from Navotas, despite having different backgrounds, they are commonly either renting exorbitant rooms or living with relatives. Crisanta Alojacin, 39 burst in uncontrollable sobs as she recounted the process of her application for a unit through the National Housing Authority. The endless chatter momentarily died down and was replaced by a heavy silence as Aling Crisanta cried her heart out lamenting the 17 years of waiting that she did just to have a house. She said that she applied back in 2000 and despite many times of following-up her application, she is still eternally waiting for NHA. Aling Bhaby along with the women beside her laments the way mainstream media portrays them as anarchists, thieves, and violent primitive people. According to her, the community lives in peace, with the original settlers even allowing them to get drinking water and use the comfort rooms. “Abangan niyo po sa Lunes, aabangan namin sila.”, Aling Bhaby remarked adamantly when asked about the threat of forced eviction.
The children in Pandi 3 (KC, Biancee, Bianca and Angel)
The children playing bahay-bahayan
The streets between the seemingly endless rows of houses are filled with barefoot children running around. Some are playing tumbang preso, agawan base and luksong tinik as others pull heavy containers filled with drinking water. The children paint the villages with color. What was just lifeless structures of wood and concrete are filled with the children’s loud excited laughter, the sound of their feet against the dusty ground, the worn out rubber slippers as it hits the tall tin can, the short silence as it flies in the air and the sudden sound as it lands upon a pile of rubble, even the mothers calling their sons’ and daughters’ names and the infants’ shriek and scream for milk and reprieve from the extreme heat.
The children live in glory of play and bask in the 4 o’clock sunlight but they are not blind and deaf to the struggle upon which they are caught. They don’t spend all day in play, laughter and fun because they have to steam rice and cook instant noodles, gather firewood for a makeshift fire, wash the dishes, wash the laundry, comfort their younger siblings and clean the house as their mothers and fathers appeal and mobilize and organize for the little concrete houses they have started to call their own.
The children’s drawings of their dream houses
When they were asked to draw their dream houses, the children drew the exact same houses that they see. Small, concrete, unfinished, ridden with protruding rusty metals, with missing doors and windows and ceiling. They did not wish for sophisticated mansions or bungalows. None of them even wished for a second floor. They wanted simple homes that they could call their own.
These children don’t have toys to play with. And so they use of their agile bodies to ran around and catch each other. They use their words and their imaginations to tell stories as the sun sets in the west and darkness threatens to take over. And when darkness has already blanketed them, they comfort themselves of the sun rays that tomorrow will surely bring.
The colorful curtains
The relocation sites were a picture of desolation. There are no towering trees to serve as protection against the angry sun. There is neither water nor electricity. And during the night, platoons of mosquitoes attack the houses and the skin. The children are getting sick due to the heat and dust and food is hard to come by. But slowly the masses are doing their best to make the place their own.
The barren lands between the stretch of houses
Curtains of kaleidoscope colors cover the square windows, slow dancing with the silent gush of the wind. Many houses have put ornamental plants outside their doors and most of the time, the neighbors share food. Many of them also gather outside the houses, engage in small talk or watch the children play.
The people not the government
When asked whether they still have trust for the government, the residents were silent beyond words. But almost as immediately, they answered that they have whole trust in themselves, the people. The government has made them wait for years, decades even, have fallen deaf to their pleas and now threatens to repress them with force and violence, but now they have organized themselves and they will stand strong together.
Jeff Trapeza, 21 and Nelson Miano, 19 are out-of-school youth who have become Kadamay organizers. When asked about the most difficult instant they have experienced in organizing, they said that every step is hard and challenging but they are fueled by their beliefs and principles. “Lahat naman mahirap pero paninindigan mo na yan eh, prinsipyo mo yan”, Nelson said. “Maraming tunay na kaibigan, di lang patambay-tambay”, Jeff remarked about the community.
An eviction notice crumpled and torn to pieces
When hundreds of eviction notices from the NHA arrived in the community, they immediately crumpled and tore it without second thoughts.
The struggle continues
The residents collectively rolling a big boulder to guard the village’s boundaries
As the end of the 7-day eviction notice draws near, the residents are once again enveloped in fear and uncertainty. And every night, their dreams are filled with visions of truncheons and shields and uniformed men and they are jolted awake by the sound of gunshots, of bullets making contact with skin and organs, of the cries and screams that immediately follows awareness of a loss. And so as the sun fights with the night over rule in the sky, the people are called to gather together, in the true sense of arousing, organizing and mobilizing. And then slowly, as they emerge from the recesses of their houses, they shed their inhibitions and fears like a snake sheds skin.
The tarpaulins displaying the calls of the residents
And there shall be profound change. A change from house to home, a change from no one’s to ours, a change from fear to laughter, a change from uncertainty to assurance, a change from I to we, and a change from powerlessness and marginalization and oppression to empowerment, militancy and action.
Twilight in Pandi 3
The sun will rise and the people will emerge from their homes and collectively they will say, “Maligayang pagdating sa Kadamay Village, tuloy po kayo.” And we will know that they have won. They will win.