Survivor Manila
A Cab Driver’s Story of Survival

A taxi driver shows ingenuity by opening a store – inside his taxi.

BY AILEEN ESTOQUIA
Bulatlat

Timmy Romblon, Jr. with son at work Photo by Aileen Eustoquia

It takes a lot of ingenuity to survive in this country. That is what taxi driver Timmy Romblon Jr. has learned and helped him survived. Unlike others who depend on their keep from driving, he peddles trinkets­­-jewelry, hair accessories, ornaments---right in his vehicle. These items, which range from fancy earrings to Swarovski bracelets to scissors to padlocks, are lined on the dashboard while others are hung around the front area, so that his taxi appears to be a mobile store.

Weird as it may seem, his is a popular store. Out of items that he sells for P5 ($0.09) to P250 ($4.63), he could gross as much as P1,800 ($33.33) in one day.

His preference to stay honest despite the rat race kind of living is the root of it all.

“Metro lang kasi gamit ko. Yung iba nangongontrata o nagpapadagdag, ayoko naman nun. Bawal yun. (I only charge what the meter says. Others demand additional pay from their passengers, but I don’t like that. It’s illegal),” he said in thick probinsyano accent.

For survival

With five kids to feed and send to school, he said he had to think of ways to earn extra income. He had been driving for six years and yet he found himself without any saving.

Ibon Foundation, an independent research institution, reveals that it costs P613.30 ($11.36) for a family of six to survive in Metro Manila.

But while Romblon earned P800-P1,000 ($14.72 - $18.4) a day from driving, his eldest, Mira Cris, was already in college and his fourth child, Stanford Timmy Jr., was undergoing chemotherapy due to a tumor in one of his testis. The boy had treatments four times a month and had to take costly medicines on the side.

His wife stays at home to tend to their kids, so she couldn’t help him out.

In January 2004, armed with a P1,000 ($18.39) capital, Romblon went to Divisoria, the Manila public market known for low prices and bought his first stock of paninda (items for sale). The taxi-as-a-store concept was greatly appreciated by his passengers. So much so that he had to go to Divisoria – Manila’s popular commercial district - almost every day for more supplies.

While he was initially afraid of what authorities might say, he later discovered that even policemen and Metro Manila Development Authority figures who man the streets here, admired his ingenuity.

“Okay to, ah,” (This is awesome!) he recalls them often saying.

Romblon’s son is okay now, but only after he had spent about P400,000, which, on top of living and education expenses, severely strained him. His taxi-store was a lifesaver for the family.

Difficult roots

Romblon, 46, along with his wife, is a native of Leyte, an island in central Philippines and one of the poorest regions in the country.

Because life was hard, he came to Manila when he was only 14 years old to look for work. His first job was as a dishwasher, then as a janitor at another company, and later as a welder in a construction firm.

While working, Romblon went to school and earned a degree at the Philippine Marine Institute in no time. But the danger of life at sea scared his wife and kept him from working on board a ship, so he went back to welding.

But because his earning wasn’t enough to support his growing family, Romblon, like so many Filipinos, worked in Iran, Saudi Arabia and Taiwan for two years each in the late from 1991-1997. In Taiwan, due perhaps to hard work, he became a foreman and was given access to company cars. That was when Romblon learned to drive.

But still, life wasn’t any easier.

“Mahirap mag-abroad, malayo sa pamilya (It’s hard to work abroad; you’re far from your family),” he said.

So he decided to come home for good in 1997 and bought a Nissan Sentra LEC out of his savings so he could have something to earn a living from. He actually planned on having a taxi business, but after the second car he bought cost him more due to repairs rather than gave him earnings, he gave up the idea. 

Stringent economic conditions

Romblon used to separate the money he earned from his mobile store from those he got from driving. But because of financial difficulties, he is sometimes forced to spend some of the store money so he couldn’t replenish his supplies as often anymore. He goes to Divisoria only once in three weeks now.

Romblon also does not drive as often as he did. “Tumatanda na kasi (I am getting older),” he said. Where before he drove 12-15 hours everyday, he now drives only on Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Another driver rents the taxi on other days.

Despite these already stringent conditions, oil price increases continue to cut at his gross income, he said. Unleaded gasoline, which he uses, now costs P31 ($0.57) per liter.

Of the proposed Value-added Tax hike that will affect the prices of other basic goods, he said: “Okay lang sana yang VAT, basta ilagay sa tama, hindi sa bulsa (I am okay with VAT increase as long as it is used for its purpose, not for anyone else’s pocket).”

Tempered by adversity

Nevertheless, Romblon’s house is a testament of his resourcefulness. Built out of his savings, it is made of concrete and has a tiled floor. While sitting in his living room, though, you might hear something that sounds like a cross between a generator and a defective automobile machine.

The sound comes from his electric water pump, from which the family gets their supply of water everyday. Sitting in an unused part of the house where the floor hasn’t been cemented yet, the pump draws water from the ground and stores it in a tank. It refills automatically when the tank becomes empty. Thus, Romblon doesn’t have to pay for any water bill.

Outside the house are five pigs, one of which is a hog. The family raises them for birthdays and other celebrations but, sometimes, they are sold for extra income.

Romblon said they used to have a sari-sari (variety) store at home too, which was put up at about the same time that he converted his taxi into a mobile store. It went bankrupt though in less than a year because his children always got food from it without paying, he said.

His eldest child and the second, both girls, attend college at the Polytechnic University of the Philippines. It is two hours away, but other schools nearby are expensive, so they had no choice.

When asked if he wanted to go home to Leyte where life is simpler, Romblon said maybe he would after his kids finish school. “Wala naming pagkakitaan dun. Pagkain meron, pero pera wala, kaya di ko sila mapa-aral dun  (There are no means of earning a livelihood there. There is food but there is no money, so I can’t send them to school there).”

And then he smiled, with dignity in spite of it all. Bulatlat

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