Informal sector workers struggle amid Covid-19

STRUGGLING. One of the severely-affected economically by the quarantines brought about by the Covid-19 pandemic are those who belong to the “informal economy” sector such as the street vendors and trisikad/tricycle drivers. (Photo by Mark Perandos)
STRUGGLING. One of the severely-affected economically by the quarantines brought about by the Covid-19 pandemic are those who belong to the “informal economy” sector such as the street vendors and trisikad/tricycle drivers. (Photo by Mark Perandos)

WHEN the Covid-19 pandemic erupted in Davao Region sometime in March 2020, the Davao City government immediately enforced community quarantine in a bid to control the spread of the Sars-Cov-2, the virus responsible for the Covid-19 illness.

During this time, the limitation of the movement of the public was already apparent, but it did not hinder the novel coronavirus from spreading, mainly due to a cockfight derby, which was dubbed, at that time, the “ground zero” for massive transmission.

The result of that event led the city to be under enhanced community quarantine (ECQ) status, the highest quarantine status, which regulated the movement of the public even further. The movement regulation affected most of us. Among those who were severely affected by the strictest quarantine status were those who belong to the “informal economy” sector. They are those who get their money to buy daily consumption and other basic needs from their daily earnings. No earnings for the day means no food to eat for the day.

Julieta, housewife of Alejandro Flores, who sells fishballs along a highway in Barangay Sto. Niño where people usually converge to wait for jeepney ride going to downtown Davao City, complains how their life got worse when the quarantine was imposed brought about by the Covid-19 pandemic.

She said they used to earn around P1,000 to P1,500 a day, excluding their capital. With the amount, she could pay their daily 5-6 they took from loan sharks, which they used for startup capital for their fishball vending business. She could also pay her and her husband’s Social Security System (SSS) premiums, hoping that when the day comes that they could no longer work, they could receive a pension to sustain them. Aside from that, since their stall was stationed not far from their house, she could easily attend to her children.

The amount also covers their daily consumption, especially that out of the four children who are still living with them, three have special needs.

“Lisod jud oi. Sauna makahurot mi’g upat ka kilo ang adlaw, karon maglisod na maskin og usa ka kilo (Life’s so hard these days. Previously, we could make fishballs out of four kilos of flour and have them all be sold. Now, we cannot even sell all the fishballs we make out of just a kilo of flour),” Julieta said.

The strict quarantine period also almost took the hope of Juergen Raboy, another fishball vendor selling at a school along Jacinto Street.

Raboy also recalls earning around P700 to P900 selling fishballs pre-pandemic. Although selling on the streets was not totally banned during the ECQ, he would lament who would buy their fishballs when there were no students around, face-to-face classes were suspended and offices employed a skeletal workforce, with only a handful of employees going to their workplaces.

Nasser Jairil Jr., a tricycle driver plying the routes of the inner city streets, noticed that the streets where people used to crowd especially during peak hours to go to their workplaces or to come home were almost empty. He said with the money he earned during the strictest quarantine period, he could barely make ends meet for his family.

Jairil’s usual earnings range from P500 to P600 during the pre-pandemic. He usually heads out to work early morning, when the sun has not yet risen, until the early evening.

Amelito Pilapil, a cotton candy vendor selling at a school on JP Laurel Avenue, used to bring home earnings of around P800 to P900. He would sell cotton candy during recess time until the school closes for the day. He was also used to being called during special occasions like birthday parties to cater to child guests of the host, where he could earn around P3,000 to P4,000 each event. But since his patrons were mostly schoolchildren and toddlers and parties are banned during this time, his earnings abruptly dropped to almost nothing during the quarantine.

Survival

The period of ECQ hindered their small businesses' operations, but some of these vendors proved that necessity, indeed, breeds ideas.

“Wala gyud, hurot gyud (We could have nothing, even our belongings),” Raboy and Jairil both recounted when asked what could have been of their lives had they not sought other ideas.

Jairil decided that what he had been doing was not sustainable anymore, so he looked for other products to sell. He saw that his neighbor, who has been peddling fresh fish, seemed to no worry at all even when the quarantine was at its strictest. He thought that peddling fish must be a nice idea since the public was discouraged to go out.

He tried peddling fish at exclusive subdivisions, together with one of his neighbors. He was not disappointed, as all their fishes sold out, earning him P800, a little more than what he made during the pre-pandemic. He was elated to see that some of his buyers requested him to sell specific kinds of fish the next time he peddled in their village. For him, this meant some of the residents needed their service, especially those who could not go out of their homes because they belong to the vulnerable sector. For him, this means their service is as important as that of the frontliners because they bring food to those who cannot go out.

Jairil’s new venture inspired Raboy to follow suit. At first, Raboy’s wife was reluctant because they didn’t know the ways of peddling fish and she didn’t want to risk the remaining P1,000 they had. But Raboy was already decisive because for him, they couldn’t live anymore by selling fishballs, not until the city is still under quarantine.

Both Raboy and Jairil earned an average of P1,500 to P1,800 per day during the ECQ period. With the amount, Raboy was able to save and fully pay the house they had bought on a staggered basis. As for Jairil, he was able to buy four units of computers and established his own Pisonet business, another venture to earn additional income for the growing needs of his family.

They said until things get back to normal, they will peddle fish because this is the only way they could sustain their family’s needs. They are happy to find out that they are needed, especially by the “vulnerable sector” during this time of pandemic.

Meanwhile, Julieta and her husband continued to sell fishballs even though the few people who were allowed to go out to work or buy their basic needs were wary to eat street food because of fear of the coronavirus.

She said they added kwek-kwek in their fare so people have other options, but it still could not equal the amount they were earning before the quarantine.

She added that they could not just venture into other business like peddling fresh fish as some other street vendors had become during the ECQ because she has to take care of her three differently abled children.

Julieta also claims she was not even included by the barangay officials when they enlist the beneficiaries for the government’s financial assistance during the ECQ. She said they told her she was not qualified even though she has three disabled adult daughters and son, as she is a contractual government employee working as a street sweeper.

Julieta hopes that everything will be back to normal soon because she has missed payment of their SSS contribution for a year already. She, however, is happy that she’s back to work as a street sweeper immediately after the quarantine status had eased. She was advised to temporarily stop working during the ECQ period because she’s already more than 60 years old and belongs to the vulnerable sector.

Pilapil, on the other hand, continues to sell cotton candy occasionally because unlike Raboy and Jairil, he didn’t have the needed capital to sell fish in subdivisions. He once accompanied some of his neighbors in peddling fish during the ECQ period and admitted that it was a good business but only during that period. Their earnings began to slow down when the quarantine and its guidelines have eased, where a number of people were already allowed to go out to work and go to the market.

He admitted that it was when his savings were used up that he forced himself to go back to selling cotton candy. Sometimes, he would be called to work for a “wholesale labor” set up in construction or as a part of a demolition team to earn extra.

Just like Julieta, Pilapil also looks forward when everything returns to the way it used to be, not just so he could relish the income he once earned but also to see the happy faces of the children with their cotton candies.

Their stories show that resilience among us is inherent and prove that Filipinos easily adapt to the situation we are in; some may have found ways not just to cope but to elevate beyond their present situation while others continue to live on despite the struggle.

Trending

No stories found.

Just in

No stories found.

Branded Content

No stories found.
SunStar Publishing Inc.
www.sunstar.com.ph