Mabolo’s waterboys: They risk their lives to offer cold comfort for a few pesos

There seems to be no end to the hustle and bustle at the intersection of A. Soriano and Pope John Paul II Ave. in barangay Mabolo, Cebu City. From sunup to late in the evening, thousands of people within the intersection’s periphery rush from one end to another to catch a jeepney ride or get into the cool comfort of a nearby mall.

Throw in the noise, dash of dust and pollution and the searing heat and you get to understand why no one wanted to linger in that area.

As people and machines move in haste under the summer sun, so do a couple of children. Dressed in ragged clothes, these young boys carry a case-load of mineral water bottles on their head.

They wait for the traffic signal to turn red before they run alongside the row of cars and jeepneys, offering motorists and commuters a precious commodity to quench their thirst.

For 10 pesos a pop, they get to keep two pesos for themselves. On the average, these waterboys earn about P50 to P60 after an over eight-hour grind.

Adrian, 10, said he gives P50 from his earnings to his mother “pamalit bugas” (to buy rice). The rest he keeps for himself.

Short and thin for his age, Adrian could be mistaken for a boy younger than 8. Clad in worn-out slippers, he crisscrosses Pope John Paul II Ave., dodging vehicles with his merchandise. Wearing a stained tank top and a dirty pair of shorts, he obviously cares more about earning than in tidying himself up.

When the traffic signal turns green, he settles in the shade fronting a pharmacy and offers bottled water to pedestrians waiting to cross the road.

Adrian belongs to a family of water vendors. His mother and brothers take their position near the mall’s entrance. They live in a hut in a shantytown at the back of a commercial center in the North Reclamation Area. He said they all have to work to put food on the table.

Adrian has stopped going to school for two years now. He would have been in fifth grade this year. His mother works as a laundrywoman and earns P200 a day. He said his father is also working, but he doesn’t know what or where. His elder brothers never share their earnings with them, he said.

Adrian’s best friend, John, is also a waterboy. They live in the same shantytown and share the same fate. Shorter and thinner than Adrian, John is the eldest of four siblings. They all go to the Carreta Elementary School. He wants to help his mama, he said. He also wants to buy himself a new shirt.

Though struggling on the streets and through their lives, both Adrian and John merely laughed off their status as working children even as they recall an incident when John was sideswiped by a car. “Nakabangon ra man dayon ko. Nasamad lang gamay sa tiil ug tuhod,” he said. (I immediately got up with scratches on my feet and knees.)

Adrian and John are only two of 219,000 child laborers in Central Visayas. There are 5.5 million others like them in the whole country, and 215 million others around the world. TO BE CONTINUED / by Irish Maika R. Lam and DM Lorena V. Narciso, Xavier University and Silliman University Interns