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“Marami kaming kontraktuwal at pare-pareho ang load o quota na kailangang gawin sa isang araw katulad ng mga regular. Pero napakahirap maging regular.”

Kuwento ito ng kababaihang manggagawa sa electronics at garments. Nakapanayam sila ng mga tagapagsaliksik sa isang pag-aaral ng National Anti-Poverty Commission (NAPC) kamakailan. Ang pakay ng pag-aaral: Alamin ang epekto ng mga polisiya ng gobyerno sa paggawa na nagdudulot ng paglabag sa karapatan ng kababaihang manggagawa.

Isinasalarawan ng sinabi ng manggagawang kababaihang ito ang isang bahagi ng kanilang problema: ang pagkunsinti ng gobyerno sa kontraktuwal na pag-eempleyo ng mga kompanya (20 empleyado pataas). Sa kabila ito ng paglabas ng Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE) ng Department Order No. 174 na lalong naglegalisa pa sa kontraktuwalisasyon. Sa kabila ito ng mga pangako ni Pangulong Duterte na papawiin niya ang kontraktuwalisasyon sa bansa.

Pero bilang kababaihang manggagawa, hindi lang ito ang pinoproblema nila. Pinahihirapan din sila bilang babae, sa lipunang sa pangakalahata’y mas mababa pa rin ang tingin sa kababaihan, ayon sa naturang pag-aaral ng NAPC. Dahil sa kontraktuwal na istatus nila sa trabaho, nagiging mas bulnerable sila sa mga pang-aabuso.

Walang seguridad sa trabaho, walang benepisyo, walang karapatang mag-unyon. At bilang babae, walang proteksiyon sa mga panghaharas ng mga makapangyarihan sa pagawaan.

Kumakaunting unyonisado

Kahit pa bahagi ng gobyerno, tinitindigan ngayon ng NAPC sa ilalim ni Sec. Liza Maza ang pagsusuri na grabe na ang paghihirap ng manggagawang Pilipino dahil sa kontraktuwalisasyon. Lalong pinahihirapan nito ang kababaihang manggagawa.

Sinilip ng pag-aaral ang datos ng Intergrated Survey on Labor and Employment: halos 4.4 milyong manggagawa ang nasa manufacturing at retail (wala pa rito ang mga manggagawa sa agrikultura, pangingisda, at mga empresang may 19 empleyado pababa). Sa 4.4M na ito, 283,081 lang ang miyembro ng unyon.

Samantala, sa 1.9M na kababaihang manggagawa, 99,180 lang ang miyembro ng unyon. Dahil sa mga polisiya ng gobyerno sa paggawa kasama na ang pagpayag sa kontraktuwalisasyon, bumababa ang bilang ng mga manggagawang naguunyon—mga manggagawang nakakapag-organisa sa sarili para depensahan ang kanilang mga karapatan. Sa hanay ng kababaihan, lalong mas kumakaunti ang bilang (mula 14.3 porsiyento noong 2004, naging 5.3 porsiyento na lang nitong 2016).

“Lumalabas sa pagbabahagi ng kababaihang (manggagawa) ang maraming paglabag ng mga kompanya: ang iba’t ibang kontraktuwal na iskema, kawalan ng overtime pay, mas kaunting breaks lalo na sa peak season, walang break para umupo, walang libreng amenties kahit tubig, masamang kapaligiran sa trabaho, kawalan ng klinika o manggagamot,” ayon sa executive summary ng pag-aaral.

Bayan ng kontraktuwal

Karamih-an sa mga nakapanayam ng mga mananaliksik ay kontraktuwal at agency-hired. Ang marami sa kanila, nagtatrabaho nang nakatayo. Ang ilang kompanya na nag-eempleyo sa kanila, kailangan pang magpaalam isang linggo bago ang planong leave kahit na maysakit— pero minamarkahan pa rin itong “absent.” “Magastos ang muling pag-aaplay (matapos ang kontrata) na minsa’y umaabot hanggang P3,000. Pinagbabantaan din sila laban sa pag-oorganisa bilang unyon,” ayon pa sa executive summary.

Sa kabila ng hirap na dinaranas nila sa trabaho, karamihan din sa kontraktuwal na mga manggagawa ay mababa pa sa minimum na sahod ang nakukuha. Lalong nagpahirap pa sa kanila ang pagtaasan ng presyo ng mga bilihin dahil sa Tax Reform for Acceleration and Inclusion (Train) Law ng rehimeng Duterte.

Lahat ng gawaing ito—na nagpapahirap sa mga manggagawa—ay ikinukubli umano ng mga kompanya sa mga inspektor ng DOLE. O kung nahuhuli o nakikita man ng mga inspektor ang mga pang-aaping ito at nasisita ang mga kompanya, walang mapagpasyang aksiyon na ginagawa ang naturang mga ahensiya para masawata ang pang-aapi.

Mga abuso

Maliban sa talamak na pang-aapi sa kontraktuwal na mga manggagawa, talamak din ang mga pang-aabuso (pisikal, minsa’y seksuwal) sa mga babaing manggagawa. Wala silang magawa dahil bilang kontraktuwal, maaari silang tanggalin anumang sandali.

“Kasama sa inspeksiyon ng ilang kompanya ang inspeksiyon sa underwear ng mga manggagawa,” ayon sa executive summary.

Ayon pa sa pag-aaral ng NAPC, sa Keyrin Electronics Philippines sa Cavite Export Processing Zone, isang Koreanong manedyer diumano ang nadeport matapos ireklamo ng mga manggagawa ang paulit-ulit na seksuwal na panghaharas at abuso nito sa mga manggagawa. Dahil dito, nagkaisa ang mga manggagawang kababaihan dito para bumuo ng unyon para palakasin ang kanilang hanay—sa kabila ng mga aksiyon ng manedsment kontra sa pag-uunyon nila.

Samantala, mababa rin umano ang kaalaman ng mga manggagawa sa kanilang mga karapatan. Ang marami sa kanila, hindi alam ang kanilang karapatan bilang manggagawa at babae na nakasaad sa mga batas tulad ng Magna Carta of Women, mga utos sa gobyerno kaugnay ng paglalagay ng espasyo sa daycare at breastfeeding sa mga lugar-trabaho, Solo Parents’ Act, Family Welfare Program, Anti-Sexual Harassment Law at paglilikha ng Grievance Committees sa lugar trabaho. Hindi na ito nakapagtataka, kasi pinagbabantaan na nga sila na sumali sa mga unyon.

Kawalang katarungan

Nagmistulang nag-iisang boses para sa mga manggagawa ang NAPC, lalo pa’t kamakaila’y mistulang isinusuko na ni Pangulong Duterte ang pangako niyang wawakasan ang kontraktuwalisasyon.

“Palagay ko, hindi natin talaga mabibigay iyan lahat (ng pangako niya sa mga manggagawa),” ani Duterte, “kasi hindi naman natin mapilit ’yung mga kapitalista na kung walang pera o ayaw nila o tamad.” Sabi pa niya, huwag daw dapat pinahihirapan ang mga nagpapatakbo ng negosyo na patakbuhin ang mga ito ayon sa kagustuhan nila. “Pera naman nila iyan. Kaya parang kompromiso dapat ang mangyari — siguro — na katanggaptanggap sa lahat.”

Pero malinaw sa pag-aaral ng NAPC na hindi mga kapitalista ang nangangailangan ng saklolo ng gobyerno. Mga manggagawa — lalo na ang kababaihang manggagawa — na pinangakuan ni Duterte ng kaunting ginhawa sa pamamagitan ng pagpawi sa kontraktuwalisasyon ang nahihirapan ngayon. Ang lumalabas, hindi kaya ni Duterte banggain ang interes ng malalaking negosyante, o mga oligarko. Kaya ang inihahanda niyang kompromiso, ay pagkompromiso sa hiling ng mga manggagawa.

“Ang pagsasabuhay ng ating mga karapatan at pagkamit ng batayan nating mga pangangailangan ang pinaka-sukatan ng pagiging makatarungan ng lipunan,” ani Maza.

Sa lipunang ito, sa ilalim ng rehimeng Duterte, kung sukatan ang kalagayan ng mga manggagawa, lalo na ang mga babaing manggagawa, masasabi nating matindi ang kawalan ng katarungan sa ating lipunan.

“The sleeper’s visions… are as turbulent as his day.” –Seneca

In contrast to the almost painfully detached city architecture of the rest of Angeles City, neon lights and bright colors, anarchic use of symbols and signs, and even anachronistic statues make Walking Street in Fields Avenue impressively vivid everyday.

A casual visitor may find this disconcerting, though–this narrow strip that, just before midnight, features a nightly spectacle of sights, sounds, smell and tastes catering to “pleasure connoisseurs” as the rest of the city winds down. An arc that separates Walking Street from the rest of Fields Avenue openly invites the curious and adventurous. Caucasians regularly fill the street in large numbers. Meanwhile, two police officers stand some ten meters away from the arc, brandishing automatic rifles. They are evidently there not just to keep the peace, but to protect the tourists.

The street is surprisingly wide, and bereft of the usual urban stink. Ugly waterways are sufficiently hidden away. The street is smoothed out, easy on the feet. Walking Street allows for, and accommodates, entrepreneurial spirits from all classes: Big hotels and gold-washed bars are aplenty, but the place allows for also regular vendors, too, who quietly observe the passersby. Some of these vendors are well-dressed gentlemen who carry large boxes to sell local and imported cigarettes. They also serve as friendly faces to greet newcomers and lost tourists.

In this slice of the city, smoking are a norm, even encouraged, at a time when the government has declared that all public spaces throughout the country are “no smoke” zones. An aromatic mix of alcohol, perfume, sweat and what one can only assume to be bodily fluids constantly pervade the air. That last smell disconcerts the casual visitor, who looks on and wonders what happens beyond those dingy bar doors.

Then, of course, there are the women stationed at those doors. The bars have them dressing up Japanese, American, Egyptian, or whatever. The casual visitor may expect to be harangued by them, but most of the time the women just stand and wait for passersby to express interest. Oddly, they appear guarded, almost wary, of potential customers. Transactions are regulated, though not for the women’s sake, but for the tourists’.

Everyone, but especially the women (including trans-women), are put up for scrutiny under bright, intense lights. Everything here is done in the open. The streets are filled with a frenetic energy, betraying the reality of an ugly competition between girly bars and “guild” women and freelance sex workers. Competition is equally fierce among freelance sex workers themselves.

This realization of sexual fantasies in Walking Street does the city’s coffers good, of course. It is big business, and the fact that Walking Street is open to the public, neon lights and all, can only mean that the politicians have long accepted and benefited from its existence. The fact that they have taken great lengths to maintain constant police presence for sex tourists to feel safe attests to this.

The locals, of course, continue to defend the street’s existence. They say that no one is forced to participate in the nightly exchange of sexual favors and cash. One’s reply to that must only be to point out that this advanced and highly-protected system of commodification makes the city’s population–especially the women and LGBT–vulnerable to unspeakable abuse. Tragedy happened before. It happens today. It will continue to happen unless this street is forever closed to those disgusting “pleasure connoisseurs”.

Mindanaoan victims and eyewitnesses to human rights abuse committed by the police and military forces gave testimony in front of a horrified audience. This happened in a press conference organized by human rights alliance Karapatan and the International Coalition of Human Rights in the Philippines (ICHRP) on February 26 at the NCCP Office in Quezon City,

Among the most affecting accounts was the story of two boys who escaped from a failed extrajudicial killing attempt by soldiers belonging to the 71st Infantry Battalion of the Philippine Army.

Janry Mensis, 22, and Jerry (not his real name), 16, grew up in a farming community in Malamudao, Compostela Valley. Their parents were farmers, earning a living planting rice, banana and root crops on a small plot of land. In their respective families, both were middle children. Janry has seven siblings, while Jerry has eight. Like most poor families in rural communities, their parents could not afford to keep them in school. Both boys were only able to reach fourth grade.

Janry and Jerry are not related by blood. But they were friends, and both worked for a small local miner, digging excavated land for gold.

Like some teenagers from Rizal or Bulacan who liked to visit relatives and go to malls after getting their hard-earned salary, Janry and Jerry decided to go to the nearest big city – Tagum – to buy new clothes. It was Christmas season and they believed they deserved to get something new to wear.

They looked nothing out of the extraordinary. This was something they sought to emphasize in their testimony later on. They wore slim fit jeans, sneakers and black shirts: they looked like they were off to attend a Slapshock concert or to hang out on one of the Hypebeast hangouts in Metro Manila.

They said that they wore the same type of clothes, even on the night when they were taken by armed men.

After a day of buying new clothes and having fun in the city, the two decided to buy balut just a few walks away from the house of a relative in Tagum. Suddenly, they accosted by men whom they later discovered were from the 71st IBPA.

The men accused them of robbery. The two young men were too shocked to immediately respond.

“Dinampot kami dahil marami raw nangyayaring nakawan sa lugar (They picked us up because they said stealing was rampant in the area),” Jerry said.

The men took them to the police station where they were almost immediately cleared. Instead of being allowed to go home, however, they were bought to a military camp in Mawab, Compostela Valley. From being suspected as robbers, they were then accused of being members of the New People’s Army.

Janry and Jerry were bound and locked up for nine days, heavily beaten up by interrogating soldiers. They were not allowed visits from relatives and friends, and were not allowed legal representation. In fact, not one of their relatives was informed of the incident and they were detained not in a government sanctioned jail, but kept within the confines of a military ambulance parked inside a military camp.

For nine days, they were beaten continuously. Not an hour passed when they did not fear that it would be their last. Then around midnight of December 6, 2017, the two were forced by their captors to wear military uniforms, and board a military truck with some soldiers. They were driven to Brgy. Masara, still in Compostela Valley. They were hogtied and their mouths plastered with packing tape. Janry was able to positively identify the 71^st IBPA commander Estevyn Ducusin who rode with them to Masara.

At Masara, the two were taken out of the truck.

“Tiniis namin ‘yung matinding takot at sakit. Sa isip ko, magpanggap na lang akong patay baka makaligtas pa ako (We endured great fear and suffering. In my mind, I had to play dead to survive),” Jerry said.

Even in their helpless state, the two young men were still violently strangled by the soldiers. They pretended to lose consciousness, then they felt themselves being pushed into a hole.

Inside the pit, they suddenly smelled kerosene. Soon, they felt the the gas being splashed all over their crumpled bodies.

As luck would have it, their military clothes were soaked in sweat that did not immediately ignite even after being doused with kerosene. In their frustration, the soldiers gathered dried leaves and threw them into the pit. Soon the pit was burning, and so were the two young men in it.

It took all of their will and strength to keep up the pretense of being dead. They struggled painfully against screaming out as the flames began to burn their flesh. They hoped against hope that the soldiers would think that the two were already dead, and would leave them.

“Sobra po ang sakit ng sinusunog ang katawan. Kahit gusto ko na magsisigaw sa sakit, hindi ko magawa kasi yung pagpanggap lang na patay ako ang pag-asa ko mabuhay (The pain of being burnt was excruciating. Even as I wanted to scream in pain, I could not because we were playing dead in order to have a chance to live),” Janry said. As he spoke, he kept touching his legs which were, it was explained later, scarred by third degree burns.

Only their determination to secure justice against the soldiers who attempted but failed to kill them – and the desperation to ensure that what they suffered would not be suffered by others – gave them the courage to retell the experience that would haunt them forever.

As soon as they sensed the soldiers gone, the two managed to break off the rope that tied them and carefully, painfully climbed out of the pit.

Mga sugat mula sa sunog sa katawan ni Janry. Kontribusyon