Life of the Homeless
At
Sitio Top Hill,
Cebu
City, there is always someone in each house who stays awake at night,
boiling water for coffee. Ever since the attempted eviction of its urban
poor residents several months ago, they have learned to be alert and keep
their guard – to protect themselves and their homes.
BY JANE CATHERINE CHUA
ROJO
Contributed to Bulatlat
The place is called
Sitio Top Hill – a highland locality just behind a not-so-popular golf
course at Lahug, a village in Cebu City. One can reach the place on a
habal-habal, a motorcycle that can accommodate at least four
passengers, or a 10-minute hike from the corner where the jeepney trip
ends. The path is winding, lined at both sides with small houses made of
light materials.
Mornings in Top Hill
are quite peaceful. Most of the houses are closed and the pathways are for
most part devoid of passersby. Only once in a while do harried fathers
appear, making haste to get to their working places.
The clock registers 6
a.m. in the house of Manang Pilar. Her husband Manong Lando,
though still sleepy, forces himself to wake up. He washes his face and
hurries to the house of Titing, the owner of the passenger jeepney he
drives. He drives it for 15 to 16 hours every day, returning home at
midnight with money that would last till the next day and his body tired
and aching.
Next to Manang
Pilar’s house is Isabelita’s. She is a 27-year-old mother of two little
girls. Her husband is already out for work and she was cooking noodles for
breakfast. After her little girls ate and went to school, Isabelita is
left to wash the dishes, clean the house and roll the mat where the family
sleeps. It’s already 8 o’clock when Isabelita goes outside with the basin
filled with dirty laundry tucked beside her. She is about to start her
washing when Manang Pilar approaches her.
“Mare,
don’t you have clothes to wash?” Isabelita
asked.
“There’s
a lot in there but I won’t wash them yet. My illness has struck again.”
“So,
have you taken your medicine already?”
“Not
yet. There’s no money to buy one. It’s only now that your pare was
able to drive again after his license was confiscated.”
“That’s right. That’s
why he was here during the demolition. But you know, it was in fact good
for you. Me? I nearly lost my mind. My partner leaves early on Fridays and
Mondays. I could not leave Charisse because she was crying really hard. I
could only watch while our house was being demolished. They turned it
upside down. The roof became the floor. Too bad!”
“They were pests!
Even though you kept asking them not to destroy the house because the
owners were not there, they just kept on destroying, destroying,
destroying… It was so frustrating because they were not listening.
“So that’s why you’re
sick again?!”
“Exactly. And during
the barricade, we keep on pushing ourselves forward. We didn’t care if we
about the knives they had with them. We were not afraid. What matters to
us was our anger towards them.”
“I was not able to
join because the kids were all crying… they were all running. I picked
them up one by one and brought them there because they might fall into the
holes.”
“We were so pitiful.
We had no money that time and yet that thing happened. We had to eat for
three days at Mare Isis’ house… breakfast, lunch, dinner.”
“We
did not eat, too. How could we cook rice when we didn’t even have any
dwelling? We just rolled out some mats where we could rest.”
The usual gossip about
the episodes of Lovers in Paris
and
Hiram
(Borrowed),
two very popular soap operas, has been replaced with talk about the real
life drama in their community wherein all of them were actors. Although
the demolition took place months ago, it continues to be the topic of
conversations in Sitio Top Hill.
Manang
Pilar and Isabelita
are still chatting when they hear a group of kids shouting, as if a
mantra, the phrase, “Pulis…
mang-demolis”
“They’re taunting the
police again. Back then, kids were afraid of the police. Not anymore.”
“It’s their fault.
Instead of ensuring peace, they would rather help those who demolished our
homes. We were the ones who were abused but we’re the ones who were
arrested.”
It’s already noon and
so the women go to their respective homes to prepare lunch.
Meanwhile, just
below the plaza, stands the house of
Manang
Arlinda. The house has
unpainted walls made of plywood and bamboo floors. It’s a small house,
with no rooms nor furniture, just a few framed photographs hanging on the
wall.
Outside that
lonely-looking house, the air is filled with lively conversations. People
young and old, sit under the shade while enjoying each other’s company.
Students from the University of the Philippines (UP) are also present.
It’s a part of their Basic Masses Integration (BMI), learning first hand
the conditions of the masses by living with them for a brief period. All
of them eat lunch together. The small house is filled with people
squatting forming a circle. Nonoy, youth leader of the sitio, cooks the
food. The students contribute money to buy rice, sardines,
buwad
(fried fish)
and Odong, a
cheap noodle brand.
Table talk naturally
centers on the possibility of another demolition that week.
“Their plan is to
organize four groups for the attack. That would really be tough because
the barricade would be divided.”
“But there’s plenty of
us. Everybody must help.”
“We would call a
meeting so that we could plan very well.”
“We just have to make
everybody understand that we really need to win because we don’t have any
other home. We must think of our children.”
“Besides,
most of us have our sources of income in the area.”
The conversations go
on for few more minutes until the students finally decide to leave. Some
of the residents stay to chat some more while some go back to their
houses. Since the demolition, most of the people prefer to just stay in
their homes. “Sige gyud kada adlaw
mi magbantay… dili na lang gyud mag lakaw-lakaw kay mao may atake nila
kanang mingaw bitaw na way tawo,”
(We stay on guard every day… we seldom go out because they often attack
when the place is empty) Manang
Marissa
explains.
In the afternoon,
Manong
Arman, the Sitio
leader, calls for a meeting. By way of introduction, he talks of the time
when Mr. Villalon, the original owner of the land they live in, was still
alive.
“Villalon
had visited us and had never asked us to leave. He would even say that
when he sells this land, he would want us to be the buyer. When he died,
we approached his secretary and she told us ‘Villalon had not sold any
land. If ever this land would be offered for sale, you will be the
priority because you are the ones who live in the place.’ The one claiming
now to have bought the land is bogus because the titles that he is holding
were all just Xerox copies and his map is just handwritten and is not even
clear.”
All the residents
share the same belief with their leader. They deem that Salud Young, the
claimant, is not a legitimate owner. With that conviction, they are
determined to fight for their houses. “Mag-andam
gyud mi taman-taman. Bisag armado pa sila… dili gyud mi mahadlok.”
(We would prepare
really hard. Even if they’re armed, we will not be scared.) May-may
declared.
In the evening, while
most are asleep, there is always someone in each house who stays awake,
boiling water for coffee. As Gina said,
“Halos dili mi mangatulog dinhi. Kada
gabii gabilar, nagabantay gyud.”
(We hardly sleep.
Every night, we stay awake… we always keep on guard.)
Thus, at 12 midnight,
the silence that covers Sitio Top Hill like a thick blanket is ripped
softly by a noise that is heard in almost every house – the sound of metal
spoon against porcelain cup as it stirs the black aromatic liquid. Indeed,
somebody must stay on guard. Bulatlat
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