‘Kung walang kurap…’

We heard it loud and clear many times over from the late president Noynoy Aquino, who drilled into us this mantra during his 2010 presidential campaign – kung walang kurap, walang mahirap. It may have been simplistic, given the complexity of our society and the elite-driven structure that controls our economy, yet it resonated because it carried an undeniable truth.

I think about this now amid the jaw-dropping political maneuverings at the Senate and the House of Representatives. Our lawmakers are entangled in a web of power struggle and political warfare. It boils down to politics, power and billions of pesos. How the brouhaha will end is still anyone’s guess.

But while all this is happening, many Filipinos are barely surviving. These are the harsh truths that exist in this nation of 115 million.

Let me share with you a story of two Filipinas I met recently. They are concrete examples of how corruption and political patronage have left ordinary Filipinos on their own to fend for themselves and their families, struggling and (barely) surviving their everyday lives.

Teresita Fernandez, 70, has been working all her life as a laundry woman. It is the only job she knows.

She has been doing this work since 1991 – more than 30 years of laba at plantsa – to make ends meet.

Her calloused hands are a map of work. Her dark skin is roughened by years of soaking in soapy water; her fingertips wrinkled and red.

Born in Caticlan, Aklan, she is the sixth of seven children. At 15, she worked as a household helper and helped plant rice in the fields after finishing Grade 6.

She eventually found herself in Manila, but life didn’t get easier. She managed to raise three children, all of whom finished high school but after everything, she is mostly on her own as her children now have their own families to feed.

Today, decades later, Teresita, who lives near the Manggahan Floodway in Pasig, continues to live a hand-to-mouth existence.

From a full-time helper, she now works as a freelance laundry woman, receiving P700 for washing clothes and ironing them from morning till afternoon.

Work, however, has been slow in recent years. Clients prefer younger helpers because they are seen as able to work faster, Teresita says.

Today, she lives with her 30-year-old son. They get by with occasional financial help from relatives, but sometimes sickness strikes.

She does not get any support from the government, not from the barangay and not from the DSWD.

In nearby condominiums, she continues to offer her services – P700 for a day of ironing and laundry – just enough to keep going in the only way she knows how.

Sometimes, however, when there is no work, she does not know how they’ll be able to eat. Sometimes, they sleep hungry.

During election season, politicians hand out rice. But when they win, Teresita says with sadness, they disappear.

Editha Carpio also lives near the Manggahan Floodway.

She used to be a security guard but now at 58, she was forced to retire to give way to the younger ones.

Like Teresita, Editha struggles to make ends meet because she is raising four children, left orphaned by her sister. The children – 20, 17, 14 and 12 – are all staying with her and she is the one paying for their schooling. It is her greatest expense.

In their NHA housing at LRB Residences, rent is P1,200 a month, and most months the budget feels stretched to breaking. She carries all the load.

To survive, she wakes up at 2 a.m. to prepare and sell what she can. The usual fare is hot coffee for motorcycle-riding messengers and drivers who turn up at her small sari-sari store in the wee hours of the morning.

The drivers need coffee to stay awake. She cooks pancit, too, for anyone looking for something to eat.

On her right forearm, Editha has an intricate tattoo of clasped hands wrapped in a rosary. It serves as her reminder to pray the rosary which she does every morning when she wakes up and every night before she gets to bed.

She prays for their daily survival.

But most of all, she prays for a world where progress isn’t reserved for the same small circle. “Sana,” she says, “hindi lang sila-sila ang umaangat.”

I met the two heroines through a reader who wanted me to share their story in the hope that our government officials, social workers or some good Samaritan would respond and help.

I was hesitant to interview them at first, not wanting to raise their hopes that a story about them could change their lives.

But I eventually agreed because, I told myself, sharing their story is the least I can do.

When I left the interview, I remembered PNoy’s words. Kung walang kurap, walang mahirap.

Teresita and Editha are concrete examples of what happens when our leaders steal the money that could otherwise go to social services, especially education. If only our politicians were less greedy, Filipinos like Teresita and Editha could get a better shot at life.

(These two heroines need whatever help they can get – groceries, medicines, school supplies, clothes and most of all, better jobs. If you wish to help, you may email me).

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Email: [email protected]. Follow her on X @eyesgonzales. Column archives at EyesWideOpen on FB.