For water delivery drivers in Cebu, oil and water do mix

CEBU, Philippines – When Kuya Tata arrived at the water refilling station, the sidecar of his tricycle was so full of empty water gallons that they almost spilled over.

Tata has been delivering water for four years now. He sources his water from a station owned by two brothers and their wives, and he serves barangays in Mandaue City and the municipality of Consolacion. Each gallon costs him P20; he sells it for P25, taking a P5 margin for himself.

He drives a Kawasaki Bajaj, the typical workhorse of Filipino tricycles, because it’s reliable and fuel-efficient. 

But in a period of global oil crisis and rising fuel prices, “fuel-efficient” loses some of its meaning. 

“Ang effect niya is mahal ang imong consumption,” Tata said. “Dako na ang imong fuel consumption, nya ni-lower na ang imong income.”

(The effect is that fuel consumption is expensive. Your fuel consumption is greater, so your income is lower.)

Tata refills his tank every week. What used to be a P700 refill has increased to at least P1,100.

He pays for gasoline out of his own pocket. Since the refilling station he sources from hasn’t increased its prices, neither has he for his delivery, depleting his income.

“Sa una, mo average ko P500 [a day]. Karon naa ra jud siya sa P350,“ Tata said. (Before, I would average P500 a day. Now, it’s just P350.)

Since tricycles like his are not allowed on the highway, Tata weaves through narrow streets and shortcuts to reach his customers. It used to be manageable. However, as part of his fuel-saving measures, his six-day workweek has been cut down to five. Now, he has to carry more gallons of water per trip, adding weight that makes the already tight routes harder to navigate. 

At least fuel costs are lower for motorcycles than for multicabs, which Kuya Manuel operates.

Different vehicles, same vulnerability

Manuel Bihag is one of the two brothers who own the water refilling station, and he is in charge of deliveries to Cebu City. Unlike Tata, deliveries via multicab increased prices — from P30 to P35 — because of the fuel price hike.

“P500 kada adlaw akong tubil. Sa una, P500, siyam ka litro. Karon, lima na lang,” Bihag said. (My refill is P500 a day. Before, that would mean nine liters. Now, it’s only five.) 

Rappler interviewed Bihag and Tata on a Tuesday, March 31, the day of the week when oil companies implement fuel price increases. When reminded of that fact, Bihag said he expects only four liters now instead of five. 

Bihag doesn’t have the liberty to take a day off like Tata. The demand for water from major cities like Cebu far exceeds that of other areas, so he has to make daily deliveries. He can carry only 48 gallons of water on his multicab; any more, and he risks damaging it — though Bihag admitted that during these past few weeks, he had tried. 

Some days, he detours from his usual route in Cebu City to have his tank refilled in Mandaue and Consolacion, where fuel prices are lower. 

Water delivery drivers in times of crisis

Tata said he is worried about raising his fares. His customers don’t always respond well to it. 

“Before, nag-adjust ko’g P2, P2 lang ha, naa’y resistance,“ Tata said. (When I increased my rates by P2, just P2, there was resistance.)

Many customers backed out of ordering from him, opting instead to refill their water themselves at the numerous available stations. Admittedly, Bihag and Tata agreed that in the cities they serve, “daghan kaayo’g refilling stations, halos every corner (there are so many refilling stations, almost every corner).” Their service is easily replaceable with potable water seemingly so easy to come by.

But in times of crisis, they become indispensable.

During past tropical cyclones, such as 2021’s Typhoon Odette (Rai) and 2025’s Typhoon Tino (Kalmaegi), which both devastated the province, refilling stations quickly ran out of supplies, struggling to keep up with demand. In those moments, they relied on generators for the electricity to pump water and cater to the people’s needs — generators that also run on diesel fuel and crude oil.

In seasons of intense heat and drought, limited water releases from the Metropolitan Cebu Water District force refilling stations to ration supply, often storing water in bulk just to meet daily demand.

Water delivery drivers are the link between water stations and households in desperate times.

How temporary is ‘temporary’?

Still, Tata doesn’t hold his customers’ apprehension to price increases against them; it is a big ask. But he emphasized that his job is to lighten their load, sparing them the effort of hauling heavy gallons and giving them the peace of mind of having drinking water on hand. 

He clarified that his five-day workweek, while helpful to cut costs, is not strict. If he can make his way to the station on a day when a household needs it, he will, even at his own expense.

As much as these drivers wish to cater to their customers’ needs, this line of work alone is “insufficient.” Tata supplements it with a passive income source: coin-operated water machines he builds himself in his spare time. It’s a modest but meaningful boost to help support his family, which includes a daughter entering college soon.

Tata remains optimistic that the situation is temporary, yet in the same breath, he lamented the struggles of many water delivery drivers like himself: “Although temporary ra siya, sige ra’g increase [fuel prices]…. Although temporary ra siya, gamay na sakripisyo, pero sa income, nakuwaan na jud.“

More than a month into the United States and Israel’s war on Iran, how long this crisis can be called temporary is increasingly uncertain. As of this writing, the country is in its fourth straight week of oil price hikes. Across Cebu, there have been ripple effects: vendors reported shrinking profits, vehicle owners crowded public transport, drivers — from jeepneys to ride-hailing motorcycles — reported significant income losses.

(Although it’s only temporary, fuel prices still keep rising…. Although it’s only temporary, just a small sacrifice, I’m already losing income.)

“Wa jud ta’y mahimo (There’s nothing we can do),” Tata and Bihag both groaned. – Rappler.com