Skip to main content

NEDA 64 pesos per day / 9,581 Php per month issue


Let me get this straight: NEDA thinks a family of five can survive on P9,581 a month? 

That's like saying a cat can survive on a diet of air and Facebook likes. 

It's almost as if they’re expecting us to pull out our Monopoly money and start making a living off “Free Parking” and “Community Chest” cards. 

What’s next? Are we going to start paying for our groceries with exposure, good vibes, and a nod of "pasasalamat" to the cashier?

Let’s break it down, shall we? According to NEDA, that P9,581 is supposed to cover everything—food, shelter, clothing, transportation, education, healthcare, and, I don’t know, maybe a unicorn ride to work? They’re saying that each person can live on P64 a day. That’s less than the price of a decent cup of coffee, and I’m talking about the kind where the barista just scowls at you and slaps your name on a paper cup.

Lets take a look at it one by one:

Food: Let’s say you’re sticking to the basics—rice, sardines, and maybe a couple of vegetables if you’re feeling fancy. Even if you stretch your pesos to the absolute limit, you’re looking at more than P64 per day, per person. Forget about meat, fruit, or anything that doesn’t come in a can or a sachet. But hey, who needs protein, right? We can all just photosynthesize.

Shelter: What kind of shelter are we talking about here? A tent? A cardboard box? Because unless you’re living in the Sims where walls and roofs are optional, I’m pretty sure rent, utilities, and the occasional need for repairs cost more than NEDA’s magical P9,581.

Clothing: I guess everyone’s dressing from the “Family Hand-Me-Downs 2024 Collection” this season. That or we’re all shopping at the “I Hope This Fits” thrift store. But hey, maybe NEDA’s onto something—who needs new clothes when you can just wear your old ones inside out for that fresh, “new” look?

Transportation: Ah yes, public transportation—the daily game of “How many people can we fit into this jeepney before it turns into a clown car?” With skyrocketing fuel prices and public fares to match, P64 a day isn’t going to get you very far. Maybe NEDA’s plan is for us to all become Olympic-level marathon runners?

Education and Healthcare: Maybe NEDA’s secretly hoping for some sort of Jedi mind trick where we just will ourselves into being educated and healthy. Who needs schools or hospitals when you’ve got, I don’t know, Google and YouTube tutorials?

NEDA’s estimate is so out of touch it might as well be a plotline in a sitcom—oh wait, this is reality. It’s like they’re trying to outdo themselves in the “Who Can Be the Most Detached from Reality” competition. If this is their idea of a livable budget, then clearly, they’ve been spending too much time in their air-conditioned offices, sipping on their overpriced coffee, and not enough time in the real world.

So, NEDA, if P9,581 a month is all we need, I’m going to need you to prove it. Live on that amount for just one month. No cheating, no allowances, no secret funds. Just you, P9,581, and the cold, hard reality you’ve so conveniently ignored. Let’s see if you can make it work because the rest of us certainly can’t.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Blank Verse Poetry

I ran this morning. Gray sky, nothing special. Weather that doesn’t force you to feel anything. Usually, I wander without purpose. Today, something stopped me. Time is a trap. We pretend it’s limited, but it isn’t. So we rush through it—steps, choices, life—until it all blurs. The small things disappear. The smell of earth, the quiet air. Gone. A song got stuck in my head. “I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” Unwanted. Persistent. How did it get in? Maybe fate. Maybe nothing. I don’t believe in destiny, but here I was—stuck in the sound, stuck in a loop. The world paused inside me. I didn’t move. The day went on. Hands trembled—not from connection, but from the weight of existing. Scars on skin—maps of past failures. Nothing clean, nothing clear. I touched a cheek. No softness. Smoke? Habit? Grip loosened—like sanity slipping. Wanting to let go, but afraid of the emptiness that follows. I kissed a cheek. A stupid move. A laugh broke the silence. A glitch. A mistake. Coffee a...

The Slow Death of the Familiar Lie

The 2025 elections just ended. Not with fireworks, not with riots—just the quiet unraveling of yet another chapter in our nation’s long and complicated dance with democracy. There’s something different in the air this time. Something subtle, like the way dusk falls before you even realize the day is gone. You feel it before you name it: a shift. Not seismic, perhaps not even visible to the untrained eye. But there, like a whisper at the edge of a crowded room. People have grown wiser. And no, this isn’t naive optimism. It’s not the kind of blind faith that wears campaign colors and chants slogans. It’s the kind of wisdom that comes from repeated heartbreak—from choosing hope too many times, only to be betrayed by men in suits and smiles. From believing in change only to see it morph into the same old trapo politics dressed in newer fonts. “Pain is a brutal but effective teacher—especially in a country where memory is often the first casualty of every election cycle.” But maybe ...

The Tension Between Hope and Despair

This is w here the light breaks just to drown. Hope isn’t some pretty thing. It’s a slow burn that keeps you awake at night, fooling you with a whisper, “Maybe this time.” It digs its claws in, even when everything screams you’re done. Hope’s the hook you can’t shake, even when it’s tearing you apart from the inside. Despair doesn’t wait politely. It crashes in like a storm, cold and sharp, and it doesn’t care if you’re ready or not. It doesn’t dance with hope—they fight. It’s brutal, ugly. Despair wants to swallow everything whole, leaves no room for mercy. There’s no peace between them. It’s a war you didn’t sign up for, but you live it every damn day—grasping for that fragile flicker, even as the darkness tightens around your throat. You hold hope like a lifeline but feel despair pulling the knot tighter. No balance. No graceful dance. Just a mess of broken promises and shattered dreams. Hope keeps you chasing ghosts; despair waits, patient, knowing it will win. And the worst p...