The Tale of the Lone Barrio: Sitio Babangad Amidst the Shifting Tides of Bulakan
by Mark David Silencio
The world we want — all in the name of progress.
A remote village gilded with flowers and fishing nets sits as still as the water on the outskirts of Bulakan, Bulacan. However, as a continuous rumbling reminds its residents of the imminent changes that would wash away the lives they have known, tensions begin to arise with the waters.
Ever since the San Miguel Corporation (SMC) arrived in Bulakan with their 50-year franchise to build and operate its P740 billion airport project, surrounding coastal villages in the municipality have been purchased by the corporation one by one to make room for the New Manila International Airport (NMIA) or Aerotropolis.
The lone Sitio Babangad now stands in a place of unease and uncertainty, unsure whether it, too, will be swept away by the currents of change in the near future.
A gathering storm
It was a peaceful life for the fisherfolk of Bulakan back then–until Typhoon Pedring (Nesat) struck in September 2011 and dealt irreparable damage to its coastal areas.
Following this, people from SMC arrived to purchase these areas, albeit for a purpose yet unknown. Life continued as usual until years later when the Aerotropolis project finally surfaced and they started buying the properties off of the locals in order to house the global megacity.
“Merong dumating na namimili ng lupa, pero hindi pa sinasabi kung saan gagamitin. Tapos ngayon, na-broadcast na ‘yung magiging project, binili na nila ‘yung mga bahay — ‘yung mga tao,” Jessie, a local ferryman from Bulakan, narrated.
Little by little, the coastal Bulakan area diminished, as residences got systemically wiped from the landscape–except for one.
“Ayun, nag-iisa na lang na sitio–’yung Babangad. Babangad, San Nicolas. Siya na lang ang nag-iisang coastal [area] d’yan sa lati. Hindi rin mapalagay ang kalooban [nila], kasi lahat ng malapit sa airport, binibili ng San Miguel,” Jessie said.
As the last coastal village not yet claimed by the giant SMC, Sitio Babangad stands on the brink of being erased; where the residents are like waterbirds anxiously awaiting their impending migration.
Caught in the net
“‘Yung project ng San Miguel, hindi ka p’wedeng kumontra pagka binibili ka. ‘Yun ang [utos] ng dating gobernador.”
Severino Gutierrez, more commonly referred to as ‘Bukbok’, commenced his interview with this statement.
Gutierrez serves as the president of Samahan ng mga Mangingisda sa Bulakan (SAMASAB) for Sitio Babangad, an organization of local fisherfolk from San Nicolas.
“Dati, diyan, umumang ka lang dito sa jakusan [fishing nets] namin makakahuli, ngayong nag-operate ng two years na yata sila diyan, parang nawala na ang hayop,” he narrated.
He goes into specifics on how SMC’s arrival greatly affected their livelihood, detailing everything from their fishing areas being restricted to the fish being mysteriously driven away from their waters.
“Tapos, pinagbabawalan kami du’n umumang sa mga malapit du’n sa site nila–sa dagat. Bawal kaming lumapit du’n, mangisda. Dati nakakarating pa kami kung saan-saan, ngayon hindi na,” Gutierrez muttered in dismay.
Naturally, as the fish vanished, their already meager income witnessed a further decline. According to a recent report from the Philippine Statistics Authority, fisherfolk experienced the highest poverty incidence at 30.6% as of 2021, a circumstance exacerbated in the case of Sitio Babangad by the actions of San Miguel.
“Talagang kahit ‘yung pag-aaral ng mga bata e, maanuhan [masusustentuhan] mo. Ngayon, katulad n’yan–dalawang linggo na kaming walang mahuli, wala. Dati nakakasapat-sapat sa araw-araw, ngayon hindi,” he added.
Shifting tides
Like the fish being driven away from the water, the people of Bulakan were also compelled to move away from their homes. Regrettably, they both find themselves without any say in the matter.
“‘Pag kinuha ng gobyerno [‘yung lupa], wala na rin kaming magagawa. Kasi wala namang ano ‘to, wala namang titulo,” Gutierrez stated, explaining how none of the coastal areas in Bulakan possess their own individual land titles.
Conrado Taquate, a fellow resident of Babangad and also a SAMASAB member, echoed similar sentiments.
“Mahirap naman kasing hindi kami [sumunod], sa gobyerno ‘yan, ‘di ba? Lahat nakuha na sa’min. Walang bagay, ‘di naman amin ‘yun, sa gobyerno ‘yun, kaya lang ‘yung hanapbuhay namin ang nawala,” Taquate said.
“Lalo pa kung makukuha na ‘to [Babangad], sa’n pa kami pupunta?” he concluded, underscoring a pertinent question — given that SMC never found a place to reclaim to serve as a relocation area, leading to the dispersal of displaced residents who had no choice but to return to their provinces.
“Naghanap sila ng marereclaim na lugar [para sa relocation]. Kaso wala, sabi nila wala… kaya ang naghanap, mga tao. Dito lang din sa paligid ng Bulakan, pero yung iba nagsi-uwi na sa probinsya,” Jessie narrated.
The SMC then provided a substantial compensation worth ₱250,000 to the families in the acquired coastal areas, in exchange for relinquishing their homes.
Even with the compensation for being displaced from their homes, it proves insufficient to lead relocatees toward a sustainable living anywhere — in their present situation, this could only last them for a few months at most.
While some remained tethered to the waters, others ventured onto solid ground in pursuit of new employment opportunities. Residents from neighboring barrios set aside their boats and fishing nets, transitioning to jobs as drivers and construction workers for the Aerotropolis.
“Nag-apply ako du’n, dalawang taon na, puro wala namang ano, ‘pag pumunta ako sa munisipyo, ‘pag nag-update ka ng [status]. May nakukuha, ‘yung iba hindi,” Gutierrez remarked, noting that about six residents from Babangad have already found positions in the Aerotropolis as welders.
Last sitio standing
Throughout San Miguel’s tenure in Bulakan, a lingering question remains: Why has Babangad not succumbed to their hands?
Severino provided an uncertain explanation.
“Kasi, ang sabi ng San Miguel, hindi naman [kami] tatamaan depende na lang kung ‘yung bibili ay mga commercial. Pero sa tingin namin, halos lahat na ‘tong mga palaisdaan dito, konting-konti na lang mabibili na ng San Miguel.”
This presents the residents with a false sense of choice — it is ostensibly their decision whether to sell Babangad to commercial companies eyeing Aerotropolis expansion or not.
“Depende na lang kung ang makakabili sa inyo, kung ibebenta namin sa mga commercial. Pero ‘yung nasa paligid na ‘yan, nabili na ng San Miguel, kaya pa’no sasabihing ‘di kami mabibili? “ Gutierrez stated.
Even if the community decides against selling off their village to the corporate giants, they may ultimately find themselves with no alternative as the Aerotropolis gradually encroaches upon Babangad, enclosing them with limited options but to relocate.
“E, kung [gagawing] commercial ng San Miguel ‘yan, p’wede bang may squatter dito sa kanilang nabiling [lupa]? Wala naman silang sinasabi pang mabibili, pero naghanda na kami, na mabibili kami. Wala, walang choice,” Gutierrez added on a dismal note.
At the end of the day, the people of Babangad are left in a hopeless state, perpetually at the mercy of whatever conglomerate decides to claim their home.
“Sana nga ‘di na kami maalis dito — karamihan dito [sana] ‘wag nang maalis kasi mas lalong mahihirapan sa hanapbuhay. Katulad namin, mangingisda kami rito, ‘pag dumayo na kami sa taas, wala namang isda du’n. Puro du’n sasakyan, construction — mga kailangan may pinag-aralan ka para makapasok ka,” Gutierrez said.
The sinking feeling
To be washed away from the face of the earth is a terrifying thought.
Still, life goes on for the people of Babangad — standing alone as they await their fate in the hands of the tides of change.
“Parang mabubura na kami rito. Sa tingin namin parang mabibili rin kami rito, parang paaalisin rin kami,” Gutierrez remarked.
In the meantime, they call for help from the higher ups to alleviate the hardships imposed by the same forces of authority.
“Sana mabigyan kami ng ano dito, sa nangyari sa San Miguel na ‘yan, ang laki talaga ng hinina ng panghanapbuhay dito,” he pleaded.
“Katulad nga nu’n, ‘yung mga kasamahan namin [na nabili], hanggang ngayon wala pa ring bayad ‘yung San Miguel, lalong wala na silang hanapbuhay,” Gutierrez added, recounting how his fellow SAMASAB fishermen from the neighboring barangay, Taliptip, are still awaiting the compensation promised to them after selling off their land.
“Ang sabi babayaran sila, [pero] mula nu’ng nagkapirmahan na tanggalin ‘yung mga jakos, ‘di na sila nagpakita rito,” he ended.
Sitio Babangad has endured years in stagnation amid the relentless onslaught by San Miguel — and in the face of uncertainty, the people cry out the same call: “‘Wag niyo kaming bilhin. Sana ‘wag nang mabili.”
In a remote village gilded with flowers and fishnets in the outskirts of Bulakan, Bulacan, the silhouettes of tall skyscrapers loom from the horizon — a foreboding sign of imminent change.
The people stand as still as the water, silently quivering from below. No one knows what the future holds, as the Aerotropolis threatens to wash away the lives they have known.
All in the name of progress.
Mark David Silencio is a freshman staff writer of Pacesetter. He is a first-year information technology student from the College of Information and Communications Technology.
