THE TAXI smelled faintly of gasoline and menthol candy, the kind drivers chew to stay awake past lunch.
It was a Sunday, quiet enough for conversation, and I asked the driver how things were. He did not hesitate.
“Sir, net ko na lang mga trescientos singkwenta sa dose ka oras.” Around P350 after boundary and fuel. Not even close to the P550 minimum wage in this part of the country. He said it the way one reports the weather — flat, measured.
Then he added, almost as an afterthought, that if gasoline reaches P120 per liter, he might stop driving altogether.
“Wala na sense, Sir.”
No drama. Just arithmetic. Three children still in basic education. An ailing mother at home. A 12-hour day that barely feeds five mouths.
I stepped out of that cab thinking less about traffic and more about thresholds — the quiet moment when work stops making sense.
Now place that voice in the middle of a transport strike. It is easy to see the placards and miss the math behind them. Behind the word “protest” is a harder truth: jeepney drivers can no longer afford to keep moving. Fuel has crossed P100+ for gasoline and P110+ for diesel, fares are still fixed, and take-home pay has dropped to P200-P500 a day, barely the minimum wage. That is not a complaint — it is a warning. That is erosion — the slow draining of a livelihood into a fuel tank.
Across the country, this strain has already taken form. Transport groups have called for a nationwide strike, with actions carried out in major cities. Some groups have pushed through, while others have deferred their planned strikes, weighing the same difficult math — whether to lose a day’s income or continue losing more on the road.
There is still a narrow path for dialogue. Renewed negotiations with concerned government agencies remain necessary, as the current response points to a sector running out of options.
To imagine the mind of a protesting driver, begin with the numbers they carry in their head. Boundary first. Fuel second. Food last. The order matters. A day’s earnings are not income; they are a sequence of deductions. A one-way trip that used to cost P300 in diesel now costs P500 or more. Twelve to fifteen hours on the road do not guarantee a decent take-home. Sometimes, the math collapses entirely. You drive longer, you earn less. You go home later, you bring less. There is a point where continuing to drive feels like paying to work.
There is also a different kind of pressure, one that does not show on a receipt. The guilt of telling a child that enrollment might have to wait. Behind every day is a hard choice — care for family or fuel for work. The exhaustion reaches the mind. Drivers begin asking why, not because they have given up, but because the balance is no longer there.
Critics of the strike often raise valid concerns. Commuters are stranded. Students arrive late. Daily routines are disrupted. Some fellow drivers also choose not to join, worried about losing even a day’s earnings. These are real costs. It is neither fair nor honest to dismiss them. A strike is, by design, disruptive. It interrupts normal life. It forces attention by withholding service. The frustration it causes is part of the message, but it is also the burden of those who choose to protest.
Yet to stop at inconvenience is to miss context. A driver who joins a strike is choosing to earn nothing for that day or the next. No boundary to pay, yes, but also no income to bring home. In a sector where many already live day-to-day, that is not a casual decision. It is a sacrifice. In other terms, it is a form of pag-antus, pagtitiis, or enduring hardship with a purpose. “Hindi madaling magprotesta,” as one might say. It only happens when enduring quietly is no longer enough. The strike is not a shortcut. It is the long way around a problem that has stopped responding to polite requests.
History offers perspective. Transport protests in the country are often criticized, sometimes fairly, but rarely understood in full. They have, time and again, forced fare reviews, unlocked subsidies, and compelled policymakers to act. Without them, many concerns would remain buried in reports no one reads. One may disagree with their timing or disruption, but the pattern is clear: when drivers move together—or refuse to move at all — institutions respond. Silence, in contrast, is easy to ignore. (To be continued)/PN
