Waking up at 7 in the morning, I knew we postulants were late for a hard day’s labor in the tapasan. An hour ago, the obreros would have started harvesting sugar canes—cutting off its long shoots and carrying a heap of them over their backs toward the carrier trucks. Almost all their lives revolve around this back-breaking labor in the haciendas. Being paid for the service rendered each day is a matter of having something on the table to eat.
After a quick breakfast, we went off to the tapasan area where the obreros had been working. From where my batch mates and I had spent the night, it took us 30 minutes of hiking before arriving to the place. With a lending a hand in mind, we stumbled upon a group of men who were drenched under the scorching heat of the sun. Yet, they seemed tireless, working on a half-hectare sugar cane plantation with espadings (a cutting tool resembling a Bolo) held firmly on their fists. The scene, only pausing for lunch breaks at noontime, would last until late afternoon. It’s hard to believe that by the end of the day, these people would only earn 90 to 100 pesos—way below the supposed standard minimum wage of every Filipino.
They say truth can be hurtful at times. Something is meaningfully true only to those who experienced why it is so. I remember having some little knowledge about Sakada workers in my high school days. I knew of them through magazines and movies. At that time, I felt pity on them being in subhuman conditions. But nothing compares having been exposed to their situation in real life. When I was there, just a few minutes after having started harvesting sugar canes myself, tears fell down from my eyes. Their work, their burden, their life, after having experienced it myself, proved to be too much to take. It’s hard to imagine that many Filipinos have to live with this kind of situation. It’s quite ironic. Those who harvest the sweetest of grains the earth soil ever produces, are those who live the bitterest of lives.
For four days, we postulants lived with the Sakada workers and their families. The place was in Brgy. Sta. Rosa, around 5 kilometers away from Murcia, Negros Occidental.
