SMOKEY MOUNTAIN II: URBAN POVERTY

7 June 2025

My name is Paulo Aton, a former Roman Catholic seminarian. I left the seminary some time ago and went on to become a lay teacher. But I still visit old friends at the seminary, and once or twice, I went to my old haunt--one of the poorest neighbourhoods in Manila, a dumpsite in Baseco, Tondo. I did not come from a rich family, and I am not unfamiliar with poverty. Still, before my experiences in Tondo, I did not know what urban poverty was really like until I lived there.

 

Back in 2012, my brother seminarians and I were required to share the lives of impoverished people in order to understand and empathise with how they lived. I was assigned to a site informally called “Smokey Mountain II” as it was in the exact location where the original Smokey Mountain was demolished in the late 1990s,* to be replaced by public housing. Just the same, Smokey Mountain is gradually being resettled with makeshift shanties as many original beneficiaries of the housing project sold their units, finding living there unaffordable. With no skills and no education, these people—now numbering over a thousand--could not find jobs, even in an area surrounded by tall industry buildings where work opportunities supposedly abound. Over time, many went back to resettle in the dumpsite, with newcomers joining them. Early each morning, the residents of Smokey Mountain II would again eagerly await the garbage-full lorries as they regurgitate rubbish on the ever-growing mound.


I went to the site every Saturday and stayed there all day for the next two years, from 2012 to 2014.  At first, people looked at me with hostility, ridiculing me by asking how my “field trip” was getting along. I was accused of staring at them as I would a human zoo. Like the rich, there is an air of arrogance amongst the poor, who consider those above their station mere wimps. We, the “rich”, would never be able to tolerate the putrid air of decomposing garbage, the scraps of pagpag or tira-tira (left-overs) that they scavenge, recycle, and eat. Or the smoke of discarded tyres as they are burnt to get to the metals at the core, with plumes of noxious smoke rising so that one cannot breathe the air around them— hence the name “Smokey Mountain.” Sometimes it is also called “Little Samar” because most of the residents there come from Samar, one of the poorest regions in the Philippines.

Photo by Sabrina Iovino.

It was not a safe place, especially before the residents got used to me. I had to give a “tong”, coins demanded by young boys who aggressively accosted me, a stranger in their midst. Later, I learned to dress more inconspicuously so I wouldn’t look too much like a bagong salta or newcomer who had come to invade their territory.

 

I remember the first day my seminarian brothers and I arrived in Little Samar. We were met by the government-appointed Punong Barangay (barangay captain) Tatay Tebang. He assigned each of us to a “foster family”.  My own was the family of Marking de la Cruz —a couple in their 50s and their four young children. They lived in a small shack made from scavenged materials—corrugated metal sheets for roofing, some wooden boards and panels, and sturdy cartons--similar to other shanties in this tightly packed maze. (The better-off might have a slightly sturdier home).

 

The family originally lived in Samar but transferred to Manila some time ago. Rumour had it that everything was easy in Manila—easy to find work, easy to own a house, and easy to send your children to good schools. “We were used to our life in the province,” explained Mang Marking. “But when my compadre who had migrated to Manila came home for a holiday with gifts for everyone, I was astounded. My wife Anding and I could only gape as we listened to his stories about life in the city. Right then and there, we decided to sail to Manila with our four children--Joselito, Manuel, Toto, and Mina”. 

 

Their excitement, however, gave way to disappointment as Mang Marking immediately realised that Manila only worked on a cash economy. With no skills or education, he could not find a job to earn a salary, and you needed money in order to survive. There were no trees where you could rest under, no water from a stream, no vegetables, nor wild fruit trees. Disappointment led to frustration. It was finally the desperation that got them to Smokey Mountain II. By the time I met them, they were then living in the community for the past four years and had developed a daily routine.

 

Mina, the youngest and the only girl, was sickly and didn’t participate much in family activities. Only Joselito and Manuel would go pangangalahig (scavenge) with their father. They woke up before sunrise to await the arrival of the lorries and beat the competitors. If they were lucky, they might even find “wholesale” left-over foods thrown away by restaurants. In the early days, they would wash these left-over foods, and re-cook them to become delectable meals of adobo, menudo, and other Philippine dishes. Called pagpag, I ate these with the rest of the family. If you didn’t know where they came from, you might even like the taste, as Aling Anding was a good cook. She kept cooking oil and various condiments that went with the dishes. But I found eating them difficult. Even though I was raised poor, we always had food on the table and never had to rely on pagpag.

 

As the de-la-Cruzes became better-off relative to the newer residents, the family often chose to buy tingi (small portions of newly cooked viands wrapped in a plastic bag) from the kabitbahay (neighbour) who did the food scavenging. Instead of collecting rancid food items, it made more sense to the family to concentrate on the more valuable scraps of old metals, bottles, plastics, paper, or even occasionally, discarded appliances which they then hammered down for their metal components. These were sold to the junk shops nearby. 

 

The family earned as much as Php300/day from scavenging alone. Although below minimum wage, it was still better than what many others made. Along with buying tingi instead of having to scavenge for pagpag, the family could afford to buy a TV set: they would stay up until 10:00 or 11:00 at night watching and re-watching tapes of old movies. As there was no supply of electricity, they relied on recharged car batteries. Also, just before I left, I heard the family was planning to put up their own toilet. There was a multi-purpose building with a toilet nearby, but the toilet was dirty and not maintained, so many relieved themselves anywhere. Kaniya-kaniyang diskarte nalang  (each one to his own strategy).

 

The third son Toto and I soon became fast friends. Although we also sometimes scavenged to look for recyclables, we were not expected to help much as Toto was the “spoiled” youngest son. Our chief job was to secure water for washing and for drinking. There was no running water, but there was a deep well not too far from where the de la Cruzes lived. We could buy water by the bucket.  (During my time, it cost Php2.00/bucket). Drinking water was sold in five-gallon containers, with refills at less cost. Delivery of drinking water came once a week.

 

The rest of the day, Toto and I would simply wander around and have fun. In the afternoon, we played basketball with the other young boys. During my early days, Toto would take me around the community, explaining how things worked in Little Samar. “You have to be street smart, resourceful, and a bit cunning. Otherwise, you will be outmanoeuvred by others”, he explained. Thanks to him, I gradually became accepted by the other residents—they would smile at me or even stop to exchange little gossip. Life gradually became easier. I was invited to the ever-popular birthday celebrations when, along with Toto, we drank Red Horse Beer and sang karaoke. The older ones had gin because gin was cheap.

 

It never ceased to amaze me how, to an uninitiated, life in Little Samar could seem so hard, yet I observed that the residents would always be smiling, laughing, and joking. They appeared contented! I thought perhaps that this seeming satisfaction with life had nothing to do with being poor, but rather that it came from a positive outlook inherent in Philippine culture. Perhaps, God blessed these people with a sense of humour, which was their saving grace in the direst of situations.

 

Most residents thus settled in Smokey Mountain II for life. When they had saved a bit of money, they would put up small businesses to sell items to their neighbours. But Toto was different. Even without an education, and not functionally literate, he had an inquiring mind. He told me he liked being with me because we talked about other things aside from making jokes. It was his dream to eventually get out of the slums.

 

Years later, after I had left the seminary, I would still think of Toto and wonder what he could be doing. From time to time, I connect with old seminarian friends who have, in the meantime, become priests. One of them recently told me that he once rode a Grab (taxi ride) going back to the seminary. The driver was a nice and kind man who said that long ago, he knew someone from the same seminary who lived there as well. I kept wondering if that resident was I, and if that Grab driver was Toto. Has Toto finally earned his way out of the slums? 

 

I also wonder how many of my old acquaintances are left in Little Samar to this very day, living in contentment, thinking the world is just fine the way it is even when staying in a shack beside the garbage heap, eating pagpag and tingi, because life can still be fun?  Do they figure that they are right where they are supposed to be?  Or perhaps there are a number of Totos who dream of life outside Little Samar.

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*Smokey Mountain was a dumpsite, home to some 30,000 people who made their living from scavenging through the landfill’s rubbish.  In the 1990s, it became a poster child for urban poverty in the Philippines.  Songs were written about it.  Tours were conducted for journalists, special interest groups, or simply ordinary people curious to see how Smokey Mountain people lived.  Though less publicized, these activities continue today.

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Paulo Aton is a faculty member of De La Salle University, teaching theology and philosophy

COMMENTARY:

 

As of 2023, the Philippine nominal GDP per capita was USD3,725 (USD10,989 purchasing power or PPP).  The International Monetary Fund ranks its GDP 116th out of some 190 countries.  Considered a lower-middle-income country in terms of economic well-being, there are 74 other countries worse off than the Philippines, and 115 countries better off.  What is really sad is that, at least compared to our Southeast Asian neighbours, we have been moving downwards as other previously poorer countries in the region have surpassed us economically.

 

Moreover, when we talk about poverty rate, more than 18% of Filipinos still fall below the poverty line – the minimum amount of money a person needs to fulfil their basic necessities in life, such as food, clothing, and shelter.  Again, this means that almost one in five Filipinos has to have outside help if they were to meet what they need to survive.  Unfortunately, we have poor social services in this country, so people usually rely on family and friends.  Anecdotal evidence suggests these are not always available so that many still go hungry.

 

As they hear stories of the success of relatives and friends who migrate to the city, rural migrants continue to stream into urban areas looking for opportunities – access to better employment, better schools, and better medical care, among others.  Yet, many end up in urban shanties, unable to eke out a living.  On the other hand, fearing overcrowding in the cities, the Philippine government has launched the Balik-Probinsiya (Back-to-the- Province) Program, but this has been unheeded. Currently, we have about half of our population living in rural areas and another half in urban centres.

Source of data from the pie chart: Masigan, A. J. (2023, August 30). Income inequality. Philippine Institute for Development Studies.


The pie chart illustrates the income distribution in the Philippines, in Philippine pesos based on the annual income per household in 2023:


  • Below poverty line (22%) - below PhP 125,772
  • Low income (35%) - between PhP 125,772 and PhP 251,544
  • Low & Upper Middle Class (40%) - between PhP 251,544 to PhP 1,509,264
  • Upper Class (2%) - between PhP 1,509,264 to PhP 2,515,440
  • Rich (1%) - above PhP 2,515,440



The major reasons for this sorry state are bad governance, inadequate access to education, and economic inequality. Some pundits, however, say it’s also about our cultural values.  In his book Why We Are Poor, the acclaimed author F. Sionil Jose says it is because we are lazy, indulgent, tolerant of corruption, and spendthrift.  All-in-all, he accuses us of being “shallow.” Another famous writer, Nick Joaquin, blames our pettiness and small-mindedness.  Cultural values certainly play a large role on why we have Smokey Mountain II, and this subject will be discussed in greater detail in the following chapters.  Yet, cultural values alone don’t explain why Toto, for example, lacks opportunities to rise above his station in life.

 

Perhaps, if we had had good political governance, our leaders could build structures which would filter out improper behaviour. Over time, structures that mandate good behaviour could influence and change our cultural values.  This has happened in other countries before.  Again, think Singapore.  Historically known as an entrepot for illegal trade, it has changed dramatically as the government implements strong regulatory frameworks to combat this custom.  Today, Singapore has become a model of ethical practices, known for its commitment to trade integrity.  In a feedback loop, values and attitudes that lead to economic decline can be fenced off by strong structures that, in due course, will cause them to die or change, much as these old cultural values have shaped our institutions. 



 

What is surprising in the story of Paulo is his observation that despite their abject poverty, the residents of Smokey Mountain II seemed cheerful, if not altogether happy.  Paulo talks about the overwhelming putrid smell and the noxious substances that accosted one as they entered Smokey Mountain II.  But residents didn’t seem to mind – over time, one got used to it, he opines.  Likewise, one should think that eating pagpag could cause food poisoning -- well prepared and tasty though they might be, what with so many excellent cooks in the area. But again, the residents didn’t seem to worry about health issues, perhaps knowing that high heat kills such harmful bacteria as salmonella and e-coli, or perhaps, even not knowing this, trusting in their strong gut, natural immunity developed over time, and self-medication, as they also had poor access to proper medical care. 

 

What makes for such resilience?  In spite of being an impoverished country, why do we rank well above average in the happiness index published by international organisations?  For instance, in the 2023 World Happiness Report released by the United Nations, the Philippines ranked 60th out of 137 countries, scoring higher than many developed countries.  We also have relatively fewer suicides.  The happiness criteria used were income, life expectancy, freedom to make life choices, social support, generosity, and perceptions of corruption. I imagine that we probably score poorly in terms of income and life expectancy, but score highly in social support and generosity.

 

Many Filipinos say our resilience comes from our Catholic faith, which teaches us to trust in the will of God, and the support from family and friends.  As well, it could be due to personality traits we inherit from birth.

 

Social psychologists claim there is such a thing as a happiness gene, i.e., some people are born with a greater propensity than others towards being happy.  (We have to keep in mind that this remains a propensity that needs to be actualised). By temperament, the holders of this “happiness gene” tend to have a more positive attitude towards life, can form social and emotional connections easily, and can find sensual pleasures in their daily lives.  These seem to be true among Filipinos.  Using the Myers Briggs typology (MBTI)*, I would hazard a guess that the modal personality type of Filipinos would be MBTI’s acronym ESFP.  This personality type exhibits inborn traits which are commonly found among Filipinos, as follows:


“E” stands for “extraversion”. We are sociable and enjoy being around people, often thriving in parties and social settings, exchanging jokes and good cheer. Birthdays, for example, are important social affairs as seen even in Smokey Mountain II.  In other words, we don’t really need much quiet “alone time” and, unlike introverts, are not averse to crowds.


“S” stands for “sensing.”  Extremely sensual – we enjoy good food, good music, good smell, and other things perceived by the senses.  We focus on the present, and don’t think much about the past or the future.  “Bahala na.” (Come what may).   Focusing on what we can sense, we often rely on concrete information rather than abstract concepts.


“F” stands for “feeling.”  When making decisions, we prioritise emotion over logic – the so-called gut feel.  Accordingly, we are often empathetic and compassionate, sensitive to the feelings of others. In other words, we are feelers rather than thinkers. 

 

“P” stands for “perceiving.” We are not given to structures, systems, and plans.  Instead, we prefer to be spontaneous, always retaining our flexibility.  In other words, we like going with the flow rather than being decisive, organised planners.

 

As ESFPs, we like to enjoy life, live in the present with the good company of friends, accepting things as they come, and not thinking too much**.  Why worry? As the saying goes:  Ang  kapalaran mo, kahit hindi mo hanapin, kung talagang para sa iyo, ay kusang lalapit.  (Fate, even if you don’t search for it, if truly yours, will simply come to you.)


The reverse side, of course, is that we don’t learn postponement of gratification, discipline, and a sense of agency -- requisite factors for a better tomorrow.

 

Accepting the premises above, the question therefore remains: with continuing poverty, will this resilience eventually break?  Our leaders in government should address this issue.  But what if, as Filipinos, our government leaders have similar cultural values?  That’s the reason we need enlightened people who can identify with their countrymen, starting where their countrymen are, but also have the vision of where to go. Those who are with the group, yet also out of it.


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*Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) is a psychological instrument using the theories of Carl Jung. It is a statistically supported assessment of personality type, popularly used in organisations through paper-and-pencil questionnaires.  In a simpler form, the questionnaire and self-scoring guide are available for download on the internet.


**ESFPs prefer to work in the helping professions, performing arts, hospitality, sales, and related service industries.