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By Jade Nicole M. Gatchalian
The sound of vehicles blaring their horns echoes across the highway. Tires roll endlessly on burning roads, while the city continues to move as if it has no time to look down. Yet on the sidewalks, and sometimes even between lanes, people stand still, holding their small livelihoods in their hands.
Plastic bags filled with food. Folded rugs. Handmade crafts. Bottles of water. Sampaguita garlands.
They smile, not because life is kind, but because they must.
Some people say, “Poor people are poor because they are lazy.”
But if they only dared to look outside their tinted windows, they would realize how cruel and ignorant that statement is. Poverty in the Philippines is not a punishment for laziness. It is the outcome of an unfair system, one that rewards privilege and leaves the struggling behind.
Filipinos are known all over the world for being hardworking and warm. We are praised for our diligence, resilience, and ability to endure. Many of us even leave our own country, not because we want to abandon our families, but because we know how difficult it is to build a stable future here. In the Philippines, hard work does not always lead to success. Sometimes, it only leads to exhaustion.
Every day, we witness “diskarte.” People do what they can to survive. They sell their time, grit, and talent. They offer pieces of themselves just to earn enough for one meal, one day, and one more chance to continue. What breaks my heart the most is seeing the elderly still working in the heat. Their backs are bent, their steps are slow, yet they continue. It is as if rest is a luxury they were never meant to have.
But should life be like this?
Should those who have worked their entire lives still be forced to beg, sell, and struggle just to stay alive?
In a country where a lot of taxes are collected, budgets are announced, and promises are made, people should not have to suffer this way. Yet, instead of protection, we are neglected. Instead of progress, we get excuses. Instead of service, we witness greed.
Funds meant for the people disappear. Projects turn into scandals. Programs become tools for campaigns. And while ordinary citizens count coins in their palms, politicians count wealth that cannot be explained by salaries alone. They are surrounded by luxury, defended by supporters, and shielded by speeches filled with empty promises.
Some say, “The Philippines is poor.”
But I do not believe that.
How can we call ourselves poor when our land is filled with natural beauty, rich culture, and people who never stop hoping? We are the Pearl of the Orient Seas. We are blessed with seas, mountains, forests, and a spirit that refuses to die. We are not lacking in resources or hard working citizens. What we lack is honest leadership.
The Philippines is not poor. The Philippines is being robbed. Our nation is being plundered.
What makes it worse is that many still believe the ones who are stealing from them. The vulnerable cling to promises because sometimes hope is the only thing they have left. But hope should not be weaponized. It should not be used as bait to gain power.
I often wonder what would happen if corrupt politicians lived one day as an ordinary Filipino? If they had to wake up not knowing if there would be food on the table. If they had to commute under the heat, work endlessly, and still come home with barely enough. If they had to count every coin, calculate what to sacrifice, and choose between needs. Would they still steal?
Would they still smile onstage, wearing expensive clothes, while people beg for a chance to live?
Maybe then they would realize that being a public servant is not a title to be worn. It is a responsibility to be carried.
We must open our eyes and stop normalizing suffering and resiliency. We must stop treating corruption as something expected. We must stop accepting a country where survival is the only goal.
We see people working hard every day. We see vendors, laborers, street sellers, and the elderly continue despite the pain. They carry this nation on their backs. They deserve more than sympathy. They deserve justice. And justice begins with awareness.
Voting is not just a right. It is power. Every vote counts, and every voice matters. We should not be afraid to speak out when something is wrong because silence allows corruption to grow. To stay quiet while crimes are committed is to let them continue.
When we vote without thinking, we do not just waste a ballot. We gamble the future. We risk the dreams of the next generation. We risk the lives of those who have already suffered enough.
So may we choose wisely. May we research deeply. May we stop rushing decisions that will shape the country for years. And may we finally refuse leaders who treat the nation as their personal treasure chest.
If we want real unity, it must begin with truth.
And if we want change, it must begin with us.
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