1.0 The Story
A while back, I was listening to the President’s SONA, and one line stuck with me: "Mahiya naman kayo."
It wasn’t the politics that left a mark. It was the phrase itself — a cultural touchstone, suddenly echoing on a national stage.
One Saturday night, driving home, I swerved to miss a pothole. Waited for a counter-flowing tricycle. Watched a family step onto the road to get around a blocked sidewalk.
In that quiet frustration, I heard myself think the words we all use to survive the daily grind: "Ganyan talaga." I’ve said it many times — and that’s on me too.
That’s when the echo of “Mahiya naman kayo” hit me. The real shamelessness isn’t just in scandals. It’s in our collective numbness. It’s in how we’ve accepted a standard of living beneath us — the slow, creeping loss of care for one another.
That drive home is why this page exists. It’s a reminder that the antidote to “Ganyan talaga” is a return to our deepest value: Pagmamahal sa Kapwa.
2.0 Paano Tayo Naging Ganito?
“Ganyan talaga” isn’t who we are. Hindi tayo ganito dati.
Remember holding doors open? Simple lang, diba? You hold the door, nod, and it says, “Kita kita, pre.” When was the last time we did that?
Nawala na yung maliliit na bagay. And when those disappear, something ugly fills the space: kanya-kanya na lang.
Now we live with two fears:
- “Baka maisahan ako” (They might take advantage of me)
- “Maisahan ko kaya sila?” (Should I take advantage first?)
We become defensive. Suspicious. Disconnected.
That’s when “Pwede na ‘yan” becomes the standard. Mediocre feels fine. Substandard becomes acceptable. Why? Because we stop caring about each other. The excuse? “Hindi naman ako yung affected, e.”
But here’s the thing — we’re ALL affected.
3.0 The Trap of the Label: "Kamote Driver"
We have become very good at inventing labels for our frustrations. Think of the term "kamote driver"—our national shorthand for a reckless, inconsiderate driver.
But here is the trap: we have become satisfied with just having a term for the problem. The label becomes a substitute for a solution. It's an intellectual dead-end. The moment we shout "Kamote!", we dismiss the person as a lost cause and stop thinking about the real issue. It becomes another form of "Ganyan talaga."
This movement is about moving beyond cheap labels. Instead of asking if a driver is a "kamote," we will show the consequences of their actions—the accidents they cause, the traffic they create, the stress they spread. We will diagnose the problem not as a lack of skill, but as a forgotten sense of pagmamahal sa kapwa on our shared roads.
4.0 The Hidden Cost: How "Simple" Problems Affect Us All
We’re taught to see these as isolated annoyances. The truth is, they’re a tax on our entire society. In the end, everyone gets dinged.
🕳️ The Story of the Pothole
It’s just a dark puddle on the road. Until a motorcycle, unseen in the rain, hits it. The rider falls. Brakes screech. An accident waiting to happen finally happens. Beyond the immediate tragedy, it’s a tax on us all: thousands of pesos in wasted fuel from the traffic it creates, thousands of lost minutes of our lives, and a city’s collective blood pressure rising.
But what if a report in the morning led to a crew arriving after the evening rush? What if they worked through the night — quickly and efficiently — and by the next sunrise, the road was whole again? Pwede pala.
🚶 The Story of the Sidewalk
It’s just a car on the pavement. ‘Saglit lang,’ the owner says. But in that moment, a mother and her child, with nowhere else to go, are forced onto the busy street. A screech of tires, a tragic swipe. A life is changed forever. The negligence is a chain: the driver's convenience, the building's tolerance, the implicit inaction of the barangay. That sidewalk, built with everyone’s taxes, was stolen from the public, and a child paid the ultimate price.
But what if the barangay patrol, on their regular rounds, had simply and politely asked the owner to move? What if enforcement was consistent and respectful? Pwede pala.
🗑️ The Story of the Garbage
It's just one pile of trash, tossed carelessly on the curb. But it becomes a signal, encouraging others to heap on. The street narrows. The smell arrives. Then the afternoon rains come. The water washes plastic and styrofoam into the gutter; the drain chokes and clogs.
Suddenly the street is a brown, murky river. Jeepneys stall. Kids wade. Workers turn back. By morning the water is gone but the costs remain: lost wages, spoiled goods, damaged roads, appliances ruined — and a higher risk of waterborne illness like leptospirosis.
But what if it started with a general discipline to not throw trash into our public spaces? And what if that discipline was supported by a system so swift that the first bag was collected within hours, the gutter stayed clear, and the flood never happened? Day saved. Pwede pala.
6.0 Our True Inheritance
Ultimately, this movement is not just about fixing today's problems. It is about the children in the back of the car, learning from our actions what to accept as "normal."
Right now, we are teaching them that chaos is the norm. We are in danger of passing down not just our broken roads, but our broken expectations and the tired sigh of "Ganyan talaga."
This is our chance to change that inheritance. It is our declaration to the next generation that the chaos is not the norm, and it will not be theirs. We are doing this so they grow up believing that clean streets, orderly traffic, and public courtesy are the standard, not the exception.
We are doing this so we can give them an inheritance of "Pwede Pala."