Contributed by Jholand Palomique (BS Accountancy 1)
“Hindi ako nag-je-jeep kasi hindi siya convenient para sa akin.”
These were the very lines I overheard while enjoying my lunch one time.
When I looked to see who said it, I felt a sudden ache in my heart at how quickly I could tell why.
I started learning how to commute by myself when I was only in second grade. At that time, it was only tricycles. By the time I entered high school, commuting was already playing a huge role in my day-to-day life—so much so that I could hardly imagine my life without it. Naging parte na siya ng buhay ko.
Every single day, I had to endure the long queues at the turnohan. The cold breeze of the morning wind would hit my skin as I clutched my bag tightly, almost like it was a pillow. For the most part, I used to spend my unfinished sleep there, and somehow I still managed not to miss my stop. I liked to think of that as a special, rare skill of mine—one that surprisingly came in handy. Yet, even while drifting in and out of sleep, a part of me could not help but wonder where all these people were headed. It was just a small, silly thought, but perhaps one that every passenger carries with them each day.
“Wala akong barya. Sana may sukli si Manong Driver,” is a rare occurrence for me as someone who always kept coins reserved, but I am certain many can relate. Never in the entirety of my life have I seen a driver use a calculator, and I cannot begin to imagine how they manage that for hours every single day. It is a small detail in the chaos of commuting, but it reminds me of how skills that never make it into textbooks go into keeping our everyday routines running smoothly.
Unlike the person I overheard, I have never had the luxury of calling it “inconvenient.” Commuting was not a matter of choice. Wala kaming kotse, wala ring driver na pwedeng sumundo. Ang meron lang talaga ay jeep, tricycle, bus. This is why even if it meant waiting in long lines, inhaling smoke along the road, or squeezing myself beside strangers, I had to love commuting because it became part of my everyday life. Perhaps not love in the sense of comfort, but love in the sense of acceptance.
Over time, I realized that commuting reflects something bigger, something people often forget: privilege. Some people can choose convenience, while the rest of us can simply adapt. Yet even this forced adaptation reveals the cracks in our system. I think about the jeepneys in how they carry the weight of countless lives each day, but are left to fight for space on broken roads, in traffic that never seems to improve. Promises of change have been made again and again and again, but our daily ride tells us otherwise. I think about us, the passengers, as we continue to pay—not only with our fares, but with our time, our patience, and sometimes even our dignity.
There is no luxury of escape, only the rhythm of endurance. Until then, I continue to ride, to wait, to adapt—not because I want to, but because I must. Perhaps, the weight of neglect is carried not by the roads, but by the people on them. Until transformative change occurs, we will keep carrying it, one cramped ride at a time.
Manong, para po, ako ay bababa na.
Editor’s Note: This article was first issued in the December 2025 First Semester Newsletter of Atenews.