Roel is a freshman in our school. Not exactly a model student, he is often absent in class and tries hard to cope with his studies, which gives him the reputation of being a negligent student. But despite his teacher’s complaints, Roel was always cheerful and loved playing around with his classmates. Roel lives in a squatters’ area beside the Estero de Paco, the most polluted tributary of the Pasig River. The streets leading to Roel’s house are always damp — the smell a mix of the putrefying waters of the Pasig and the perpetual odor of laundry water. A few houses away from Roel’s is that of Dona, another student of ours. An average student, Dona is raised single-handedly by her mother who relies on sewing garments for a living. When we visited Dona’s family after Ondoy, her mother welcomed us with a big smile, born out of gratitude that she was able to save all the clothes that she had sown for the past few months, as well as the sewing machine that she bought out of hard work.
Last October changed all of that. It was not a flood-bearing typhoon but a raging fire that took away the smile of Dona’s mother and the youthful joy of Roel. People from the urban poor sector will always claim that they can take any natural disasters except fire, as the latter will extinguish everything they have worked hard for in a matter of minutes. The estero community is helpless when a fire ensues. The roads are too constricted for fire trucks to pass through and the houses are too cramped together. In fact, the fire bureau’s strategy is to position their trucks at the back of a clubhouse that overlooks the shanties and hose down whatever nooks or crannies the water could reach.
During October’s fire, Roel was distraught and in pain. During an activity in his Filipino class, he mentioned that he wanted to ask God why he let the fire destroy all that they had. Dona’s family, on the other hand, had to move to her relatives’ house in Binondo, miles away from our school in Pandacan. All the garments and the sewing machine that her mother proudly saved during the typhoons were reduced to ashes.
The fire in Paco is just one of the many stories that one hears or reads, especially during these summer months. Although affecting more lives, these incidents are often relegated after the news about political events. Perhaps, a fire is so common in our country that people don’t give much attention to it. Others would, in fact, remark that people who live in squatters’ areas should expect fire as a consequence of living in places where they should not live. Not a lot of these people though think about where to relocate the impoverished families who have no choice but to continue to reside in these hazardous areas, even after a fire.
Fifty years ago, a neighboring nation had the same problem. In fact, they had a more complicated one. Their kampong or small villages, much like the squatters’ areas we have, were always scenes of deadly fires. Any government attempt to relocate the residents to a safer place was nearly impossible, as the people could not stand living with other races. The Chinese could not stand the Malays, the Malays were always jealous and spiteful of the Chinese, and both were untrusting of the Indians that came to their country as imprisoned laborers. It was described then as an impossible problem, but their prime minister thought otherwise.
He insisted on constructing buildings for his people, a much-needed strategy as his country has the smallest land area in all of Southeast Asia. Famous for his political will, he was also able to persuade his countrymen by making them see for themselves his dream of a country without shanties. In the video presentation of this country’s National Museum, there were videos of families who were awed by the rooms that the government had offered them. It was much better than the kampong they had been so used to living in. After the rooms were shown, the government agents simply had to dangle the keys to the rooms and all was agreed upon. They did not mind who they were living with on their floors. The mere fact that their government was able to give them a decent shelter was enough to make them let go of their biases. This is the story of Singapore’s Housing and Development Board (HDB) buildings.
Both stories point out the stark difference between our neighbor and us. Faced with poverty, the Singaporean government was able to give a better alternative to its people, enforcing, yes, political will, but also showing responsibility towards all, rich and poor. In a similar situation, the Philippine government gives the cold shoulder and admonishes its citizens to be extra careful next time and, better yet, move to better places that it does not provide.
The presentation in the Singapore museum was entitled “HDB Dreams.” One can’t help but admire how the Singapore government was able to dream a future from fires. Until the Philippine government becomes half as responsible as that of Singapore, Roel, Dona, and the Filipino poor would master the art of barely surviving with whatever they are now left with, hoping against hope, that these are kept safe from fires brought about by the coldness of an indifferent society.