MABALACAT CITY – While most children are hoping for toys, clothes, or gadgets this Christmas, ten-year-old Adana only wants bigas and sardinas. Her wish may sound simple, but for her family and the other Badjaos living in the outskirts of Bamban, Tarlac, just a few kilometers from Mabalacat City, it means everything.
“Kahit isang kilong bigas lang po masaya na kami,” said Esperanza, Adana’s aunt who left Sulu, Zamboanga years ago in search of a better life.
Esperanza now lives with her baby sister Ada, niece Adana, and their friend Rajima, another Badjao migrant, in a small rented place.
These four souls share a single story told in different voices, one of survival, displacement, and quiet faith.
“Nahihirapan po kami sa Mindanao, minsan nakakaraos lang,” Rajima said as she recalls her family’s struggles before leaving the islands.
From Zamboanga, they rode a ship to Luzon hoping to find a place where they could live decently. But the streets of Pampanga soon became their new shore: a place where they depend not on the waves, but compassion.
HUNGER INSTEAD OF HOLIDAYS
In Mindanao, they lived by the sea; fishing was their life. Here, their livelihood turned into street begging. “Pangingisda ang kabuhayan namin noon, pero ngayon, pamamalimos na,” Esperanza admitted.
On most days, Esperanza and Ada’s family earns only P200 to P400, shared among five members. It’s barely enough for a kilo of rice and a can of sardines.
“Pinagkakasya namin ang kakarampot na limos para sa isang kilong bigas,” Ada said.
At night, they cook rice once and stretch it until morning. The next day begins the same way; a cup of coffee, then back to the streets.
THE CHILDREN WHO DON’T WISH FOR TOYS
Adana is a grade school student in Lourdes, Bamban. But often, she skips classes. “Walang baon, kaya hindi ko siya pinapapasok minsan,” Esperanza admitted.
Despite missing out on lessons and playtime, Adana still dreams – not of dolls and gadgets, but of meals they can share without worry.
"Gusto ko lang po bigas at sardinas,” Adana said shyly. Her words are simple but hold a heavy truth. Her aunt smiled faintly, hiding her tears. For families like theirs, Christmas cheers aren’t marked by lights or gifts, it’s measured by what’s on the table.
Flipping off the other side of the same coin, the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD), has begun reaching out to Indigenous communities through culturally-sensitive programs and inclusion efforts, such as rolling the age-appropriate “MaPangBata” parenting module.
This module rolled into the flagship, through a conditional-cash-grant system specifically for IP families, ensuring that children from stranded or street-sitting situations finally receive birth certificates via service caravans.
CAROLS OF HOPE
Along the streets of Mabalacat City, the sight of Badjao families asking for coins has become a familiarity. Some carry babies wrapped in malongs; others hand out white envelopes to jeepney passengers.
They are often misunderstood or ignored. “Nakikiusap po kami sa gobyerno na hindi kami hulihin,” Rajima said, explaining some of them face dispersal or arrest. Their plea is not for pity but for opportunity, for a chance to learn a living without being driven away.
The government once promised that no Indigenous Filipino would be left behind, that they would be given equal chances at jobs, education, and dignity.
But these promises, written neatly in Republic Act 8371, rarely reach the shoreline communities where the Badjaos live.
“Sinubukan na naming humingi ng tulong, pero pansamantala lang,” Esperenza said. “Sana po may tuloy-tuloy na hanapbuhay.” As the holidays draw near, their hopes remain grounded. Not for extravagance, but for sustenance.
As Christmas lights began to glow across Mabalacat City, Ada and Adana sit outside their small home in Bamban, watching the street lights flicker with colors they cannot afford. They do not dream of toys or feasts but only a banquet that will last until tomorrow.
For others, rice and sardines are only ordinary meals, but for them it’s Christmas. | via Vianca Ramoneda