Bare Minimum, Maximum Struggle: Cubao’s workers struggle amid hold on minimum wage hike

Photos and stories by Yvannah Lou Gundayao, Yuan Lim, Mycah Pillodar, and Jelena Sabino

On July 31, the Pasig City Regional Trial Court (RTC) held off the historic hike in minimum wage worth P85 at the request of two companies.

The RTC issued a temporary restraining order (TRO) against the regional wage board and the National Wages and Productivity Commission (NWPC), preventing them from implementing the wage hike, which sparked backlash from labor and progressive groups.

The two companies behind the request secured billions in contracts from the Department of Public Works and Highways in recent years. They claimed it would disrupt their projects.

But how do minimum wage earners fare?

When inflation outpaces the base salary, workers who earn on a day’s pay struggle. Yet they tend to show up to their jobs every day. Because they’re not doing it for themselves, but for their families — for food, for their children, and for their home.

They keep going because family is everything.

Matibay ang pader, marupok ang kita

Bago tuluyang magising ang Cubao, may mga kamay na nagsisimulang maghanapbuhay. Sa bawat tunog ng pandurog ng bakal, bagsak ng semento, at kalansing ng mga bote sa sako, nagsisimula ang araw ng mga manggagawang ang pinakamahalagang puhunan ay ang kanilang lakas at pamilya.

Habang nananatiling nakahinto ang usapin sa dagdag-sahod at patuloy na ipinapaalala ng datos ng Philippine Statistics Authority ang bigat ng kahirapang kinahaharap ng maraming Pilipino, may mga buhay na hindi maaaring huminto.

Dalawampung taon nang nagtatayo ng mga pader si Fernando Rabino, 43. Sa arawang P800 na kita, pilit niyang binubuhay ang walong anak na naghihintay sa kanyang pag-uwi. Habang tumitibay ang mga pader na kanyang itinatayo, nananatiling mabigat ang hamon ng pagpapakain at pagpapaaral sa kanyang pamilya.

Sa kabilang bahagi ng construction site, si Sammy De Leon, 56, ay labindalawang taon nang naghahalo ng semento. Pareho sila ng arawang kita ni Fernando. Ngunit ang bawat patak ng pawis ay kailangang magkasya sa pang-araw-araw na pangangailangan ng kanyang anim na anak.

Ang mga gusaling unti-unting tumataas ay tila mas mabilis pang umaangat kaysa sa halagang kanilang inuuwi.

Hindi rin lahat ng laban ay nagsisimula sa mismong pinagtatrabahuhan.

Mula sa Laguna hanggang sa 15th Avenue, Cubao, araw-araw tinatahak ni Januel Roma, 35, ang mahabang biyahe. Tatlong linggo pa lamang siya sa trabaho, pero matagal na niyang pasan ang responsibilidad para sa kanyang dalawang anak — isang paalala na kahit bagong manggagawa, may lumang tungkulin na hinaharap.

Habang ang iba ay nagbubuo ng lungsod sa bakal at semento, si Aurea Dino, 53, ay naghahanap ng halaga sa mga bagay na itinapon na ng iba. Mula pa noong 2017, nangangalakal siya habang nananatili sa Bicol ang kanyang pamilya. Kasama ang pusang si Mimi, hinaharap niya ang araw-araw na hamon ng pamasahe at kakulangan ng oportunidad sa kanilang probinsiya.

Sa dulo naman ng kalsada, si Rolando Gregorio, 67, ay patuloy ding yumuyuko upang mangalakal. Dalawampung taon na niyang ginagawa ang trabahong maaari lamang magbigay ng hanggang ₱100 na kita sa isang araw. Sa edad na dapat sana’y pahinga na ang iniisip, ang bawat baryang napupulot ay nagiging pag-asa para sa susunod na pagkain.

Magkakaiba ang kanilang pangalan, edad, at hanapbuhay, ngunit iisa ang kanilang kuwento.

Habang nananatiling usapin ang pagtaas ng sahod, hindi tumitigil ang mga kamay na kumakayod. Sa bawat pader na naitataas at baryang naiuuwi, mas mabigat pa rin ang buhay na kanilang hinaharap kaysa sa halagang kanilang kinikita.

Hands That Build, Wheels That Turn

Along 15th Avenue in Cubao, a small food stall lights up its display. The workers wipe down the counters, fill large metal pots, and set out dishes for early customers. They smile, greet people, and keep their prices as low as they can. But behind those warm smiles is quick mental math: every vegetable and kilo of meat costs more today than it did last week.

They need enough sales just to bring home a simple dinner for their own children.

Out on the main road, jeepney and tricycle drivers share the same seat — watching the sidewalk for anyone waving a hand. Once they secure a commuter, you hear the engine sputter to life. A single passenger might mean only a small fare, but to these drivers, every peso is a victory.

It pays for the next liter of fuel, the next loaf of bread, or the next batch of school supplies. Traffic is slow, and the sun is hot, but waiting is part of the job.

Fifty-four-year-old Renaldo Laudinio Tenedero adjusts his cap and grips the handlebars. He has driven these same streets for twenty-five years. On a good day, he brings home around P500. But before that money reaches his pocket, a big chunk goes straight into the gas tank.

With prices rising everywhere while daily pay stagnates, Renaldo cannot afford to take a day off. If his wheels do not turn, his family does not eat.

These workers may hold different tools: a serving spoon, a steering wheel, or a trowel. But they are all walking the same path. Minimum wage is not a living wage. But in the busy streets of Cubao, their hard work is what keeps their families going, one small step at a time.