The Slums of Old Balara

We met Mario at 7:00 am, before the day got too hot.  Mario worked as the community liaison for the squatter slum of Old Balara.  Each Barangay (neighborhood) has an official organization responsible for administrative leadership, even if the community was not a legal one.  Hazel’s Aunt, Anji, grew up in a nearby city and had worked in this neighborhood for 30 years, starting a school for the children and hiring teachers from the neighborhood.  Still, she wouldn’t go into the slum without an official escort.

Mario was friendly and informed.  He wore a badge that designated his official position.  We met a few blocks from the slum area, and he led us up over a pedestrian bridge, crossing the new highway that had bisected the squatter community and directly dislocated about 100 families.  The highway was changing the neighborhood rapidly.  Sections were being razed for commercial projects and prices for food and essentials in the area continued to increase, as the new traffic access made the land more valuable.

Old Balara had about 30,000 people registered in the Barangay, and 25,000 of those were squatters, or illegally occupying land owned by others.  Half of the squatters had already moved out and the neighborhood was rapidly shrinking.  The government is trying to re-grid the area and promises the residents they can apply to stay once the new development is planned.  Mario tells us that most residents know those promises can change at any moment, or whenever a new person comes into that position.

The Old Balara slum had been built on the Payatas garbage dump for Quezon City, a wealthy area just outside of Manila.  In 2006, some of the enormous garbage pile slid into the slum community and burst into flame, killing 31 people and injuring scores more.  The government tried to move those living there several times, but the residents couldn’t afford the new areas offered, or didn’t have a way to make a living there.  So they stayed, and continued to build their lives as best they could.

As we walked through the narrow streets and pathways, curious faces popped out to watch us.  At this time of the morning, it’s mostly the very young and the very old.  The neighborhood was wide awake, and there’s a vibrant hum of commercial activity going.  There’s a local corner store with sundries, SIM cards, and Avon products.  We passed a snack shop, with packages artfully arranged at eye-level.  You can purchase a breakfast of rice and two side dishes for about .40 cents.  A man walked by carrying a fake Christmas tree.

Houses here rent for about $20 a month.  You can rent a room for $10.

Anji sees a mom of two of the students from her school.   Hazel interviews her for a video she’s making, and the woman answers before the questions can be translated into Tagalog.  Her sons are 11 and 7.  She wanted them in the Old Balara Christian Community School because of its reputation for high standards in academics and teaching the kids character.  She was very happy with the education her boys were receiving at OBCCS.

As Mario shows us basketball courts, the metered water system, and drainage canals that run under the precariously perched houses, Anji answers my questions about the political standoff surrounding many squatter communities.

True squatters are often freshly arrived from the province, looking for work in the city.  Others that live there are professional squatters.  They’ll move into an area until the government offers housing to the impoverished in the slum.  They’ll take the house, rent it out, and then do it again.  It’s called syndicated squatting.  It’s illegal, but they have police on their payroll.  Those who may want to enforce the law are helpless because the syndicate is so entrenched in the community and have an effective protection system.   It’s possible to become a registered resident in the Barangays, but it’s an involved and expensive process, requiring a local sponsor and witnesses that can testify to your history there.

I asked Anji why she started the school here in the slums.  She had been a researcher and a trainer at the university for entrepreneur development.  During her research in the area, she saw that children had trouble getting 1 peso a day for a snack (about one penny).  She noticed that entrepreneurship training begins in childhood.  Children of store owners were more likely to be store owners too, because they had grown up seeing how it’s done.  Anji wanted the kids in the neighborhood to develop an enterprising mindset, by showing them how it can be done.

Anji started OBCCS in 1987 with 17 students.

In addition to an accredited K-12 curriculum, the school focuses on entrepreneurship training for every age.  They invite guest speakers into the school regularly and teach the students to ask questions, helping the kids create a meaningful narrative from the stories and examples they hear by connecting a distant vocation to their current reality.  Anji encourages her students to see every job as an entrepreneurial one.  If they wanted to be a doctor, they should focus on finding new treatments and processes.  Policemen should find fresh approaches to connect with the community and build relationships.  She wanted to highlight examples of successes, show them that it could be done and that there were people doing it.

They also teach financial responsibility, and how important it is to give and save, no matter how small your income.  Anji started a Piso Piso group for parents, teaching savings starting with just one peso a day – just a penny.  They could do that.  And by the end of a year, they had a small bit of savings.  The next year, they had a little more.  It helped them change their mindset from what they didn’t have to what they did have.  They couldn’t save hundreds of dollars, but they could save a penny.

Mario ended the tour at a beautiful basketball court that serves the larger community.  Kids came every afternoon to play in a safe area, and it often served as a meeting hall in the evenings.

We asked Mario about some of the biggest misconceptions about squatters.  “There are different kinds of poor,” he told us.  “Some are lazy, but not all.  Some people are able to make good use of their resources.  Some squatters are illiterate, and others have finished their studies and are industrious.  You can’t categorize based on classifications.”  He went on to explain his frustration when people put all squatters in a negative light.  He wanted to highlight how resourceful people can be, how they find a way to support themselves and create their own livelihood, despite their limitations and scarce resources.  The community helps each other.  He was very proud of that.

We thanked Mario and went back to the OBCCS school a few blocks away. We were greeted by children in bright yellow uniforms.  They were energetic and studious, playing games to learn math and singing songs to remember lessons.  The school building was small and very old.  They were trying to raise money for a new building, the cost being far beyond what could be supported from the slum community they served.  But their biggest investment was in the lives of children who were learning that their life could be different.  This investment was priceless.