Written By Genno Gabriel Rabaya
The streets of Dumaguete City are far from how they were decades back. Vintage movie theaters, forgotten grocery stores, and roads that have trailed its long history—all part of a past unfamiliar to many today. Yet, a glimpse of its remnants are still found roving every corner of the city. Timeless as it is, it remains in the form of three wheels.
Under the blazing heat of the coastal sky, I wave and flick my hand repeatedly to grab the attention of a vehicle on the move. As the main form of public transportation in this quiet town, people are heavily dependent on pedicab drivers.
Residents line up along the city’s sidewalks daily, hoping to have a swift take them to their destination. And this day was no different.
One driver decides to slow down and pick me up on the side of the road. As I settle into my seat, I see kuya wearing shades against the heat, a smile plastered on his face. “Albert Macario,” he introduces himself.
Some drivers inherited the occupation from their fathers. Others chose driving for themselves. When I asked, he chuckled and simply said, “Ni-uban jud kos ako mga amigo ba.”
(I just went along with my friends.)
Macario, a pedicab driver for over 10 years, eventually found comfort being on wheels. A decade may have passed, yet he continues to be the main provider for his wife and five year-old child.
As a family man, road safety was something Macario consistently referred back to. “Naay mga aberya sa dalan usahay. Likayan lang gyud,” he expresses, coincidentally swerving to the side as a car decides to overtake our pedicab along the Looc-Piapi road.
(There is trouble on the streets. I just avoid them.)
Despite years of experience, being wary on the road is often a sentiment shared by many drivers.
One of whom is Junior Baldosa, a driver for over 20 years. As I spoke to Baldosa, he emphasizes how he rarely gets involved in road accidents because he does his best to stay careful.
With his firm, familiar grip on the steering wheel, Baldosa shares how his priority has long been to provide for his family. With four children under his care, he has always had his sights set on equipping them with proper education.
“Ang usa nako ka bata, nag-trabaho na diha sa Crown [pharmacy] sa provincial, dugay na na siya didto, sa pharmacy,” Baldosa proudly shares.
(One of my children is now working at Crown pharmacy in the province, they have been there for a while, in the pharmacy.)
What sustains most drivers to continue their hustle, as evidenced by our conversations, is the thought of providing for their children’s futures.
Likewise, Antonio Asola, as I got up to also ride his pedicab at another time, was ecstatic to share about his five children. “Oo, nagtrabaho na ang duha. Ang usa taga-Sibulan, ang usa kining kamagulangan nako nag-negosyo na lang og ginagmay,” he said.
(Yes, two are working. One is in Sibulan, the other, my eldest, has a small business.)
Since starting his driving career in 2000, Asola takes pride in standing to be the main provider of his family.
All three drivers, among many others, have found their means of living as they rove the streets of Dumaguete—earning, caring, and nurturing their families in mind. Each eventually found their place here, grinding with their manobelas in hand.
To them, a day’s work requires grit. It didn’t take them one day to master the skills required to survive the road’s conditions. In their years of experience, however, inevitable obstacles to their means of living often get in the way.
Although known to be a quiet university town, the congested streets of Dumaguete have worsened in recent years. “Lahi gyud sauna. Ang traffic run, tungod sa kadaghan sa sakyanan, mao nang labing taas kaayu ang traffic,” Baldosa says.
(It wasn’t like this before. The traffic now, because there’s too many cars, has only just gotten worse.)
Both Macario and Asola also share these sentiments. All drivers attributed the increase in private vehicles to be the primary cause of immense delays along the city’s pavements. As Asola notes, “Naobserbahan nako karon trapik na kaayo ang mga dalan kay daghan na kaayo ang mga sakyanan.”
(I recently observed that the traffic has worsened because there are too many vehicles.)
These drivers point out how the ins and outs in their regular trips have only gotten tougher as the streets can no longer accommodate the number of vehicles on the road.
As Dumaguete progresses, the roads seem to have been left behind in these developments. “Kanang kalsada nato, gamay ra kaayu. Gagmay ra ang kalsada ‘nya daghan kaayo sakyanan,” Baldosa brings up.
(Our roads are already too narrow. We have narrow roads but too many vehicles.)
As I probe further, these drivers share how they don’t just have to fight for a space on the streets, they also have to fight for their very own living too.
The fairly recent launch of transportation applications like Grab and Maxim in Dumaguete puts the drivers at risk, as the use of these apps have become increasingly convenient for residents. Not only that, habal-habal (Motorcycle) drivers have long been in direct opposition with the pedicabs on the road.
Baldosa, with frustration in his voice, shares, “Bahin niining mga Grab, kining Grab, mao gyud na makabalabag sa among byahe, ug kanang single nga habal-habal ba.” Being in the profession for as long as he has meant knowing how the application is not accessible, especially to older drivers who prefer traditional roving.
(The use of Grab is one of the most troubling factors in our trips, as well as the habal-habal.)
Now, passengers quickly flock to these apps. And when passengers prefer to look for transportation on their phones rather than on the road, the pedicab drivers’ income is in jeopardy.
This very same sentiment was what Asola heavily aired out on during our ride as well. “Na-minus gyud ang among pasahero tungod anang mga habal-habal ug Grab. Ilabi na kining mga bao-bao nga private, nakuhaan gyud ang among ginansya.”
(We really lost passengers because of habal-habal and Grab. Especially the bao-bao [new vehicle designs] that are privately owned, we really lost income.)
Despite these challenges, they continue to drive—they continue to make their living.
However, their lives do not just stay behind wheels. When their day ends, or even in-between breaks, they spend their time tending to their lives or with their families.
On the side, Macario consistently posts on his own Facebook wall, making content for his 7.3k followers (as of writing). He mentions how Facebook’s parent company, Meta, recently monetized his content. Through his online posts, he even gets to earn on the side. Now, establishing his online presence as a content creator has been one of Macario’s priorities, of course, with his own niche as a pedicab driver.
Meanwhile, Baldosa prefers to spend his rest day with his wife, helping her with their business of selling barbecue. “Mao ni trabaho sa akong asawa. […] Mao na among trabaho og wala mi byahe.”
(This is my wife’s job. […] This is what we work on if I don’t travel.)
If not at their own home, Baldosa also occasionally takes his time to continue selling in the tiangge (public market). This way, he continues to seek ways to provide more for his family, despite earning these rest days for himself.
When their days on the road get too tiring, the drivers also take a bit of their time to rest, especially when the sun is at its peak.
As the clock strikes 10 in the morning, Asola drives to nearby restaurants or eateries to take his lunch. However, he doesn’t waste his time either, as he notes that noontime is when passengers often flock to the sides of the road. “Kinahanglan timingon pod ang pagpahuway kay inig alas 11 o alas 12, mao nay daghang pasahero.”
(I also need to time my rest right because when it is 11 or 12 noon, that’s when there are many passengers.)
At the core of the pedicab’s service is its very function to bring people home. Yet, for a select few, home is where the pedicab is.
Pedicab drivers don’t just navigate the corners of Dumaguete, they live through it.
The pedicab drivers’ line of work requires them to never stay still, to keep moving just to earn their daily bread. While their pedicabs remain in constant motion, they continue to find their place in this world—sa ilang kaugalingong lugar.