More than just numbers

It is apt to unpack this nugget of wisdom from the National Economic and Development Authority (NEDA), which reported that if you spend at least P64 a day on meals, you’re not “food poor.”

People glued to their screens during Tuesday’s Senate Committee on Finance hearing on the proposed 2025 national budget heard it right — P64 for three meals. If that doesn’t raise an eyebrow, I don’t know what will.

Imagine a family of five huddled around a table, trying to stretch that P64 like a rubber band on the verge of snapping. It breaks down to about P20 per person per meal. Honestly, what can you get for P20? Maybe a cup of old-stock rice and a sprinkling of salt, soy sauce, or bagoong? A sad little vegetable? Isn’t it like receiving a drop of water in the desert and being told you don’t need any more?

The numbers might work on paper, but this is where the rubber meets the road in real life. Eating is not just about filling your belly but feeding your soul. It’s about gathering around the table, sharing stories, and enjoying the flavors of home. When the benchmark for poverty is set so low, it doesn’t just devalue meals; it cheapens the essence of self-nourishment.

The absurdity was when NEDA chief Arsenio Balisacan calmly stated that spending P64 a day means people are doing just fine — a slap in the face of those who know the hustle of daily life.

What does that say about the real struggles of families pinching coins and counting every centavo? It’s as if the powers that be are living in a bubble where the reality of food insecurity is reduced to a document.

Sadly, this whole conversation is a classic example of how numbers can distort reality. The economic threshold is a shiny veneer over the gritty truth. Can you blame families for feeling trapped in a cycle of survival? When you’re forced to play the “How can I make P64 last?” game, you’re not just fighting hunger; you’re battling hopelessness.

Just think of this daily grind. A parent wakes up, eyes tired from a restless night, and their first thought is, “What can I make for breakfast that won’t break the bank?” They rummage through the cupboard or fridge, which may as well be a barren wasteland. A bit of leftover rice? Maybe a couple of overripe tomatoes (they are the cheap ones)? As they serve up a meager breakfast, they’re not just serving food; they’re serving up a slice of reality that’s far too common.

This “not food-poor” label could lead to complacency in policy-making, as if saying, “Well, they’re not starving, so why should we do more?”

What does the government really want for our communities? Shouldn’t we be aiming higher than this pitiful threshold? Instead of settling for the bare minimum, why not advocate for a society where food is plentiful and nutritious? A country where families can share hearty meals and enjoy food as a celebration, not a chore.

Frankly, food security isn’t merely a matter of statistics; it’s about human dignity. It’s about ensuring every Filipino can access healthy, affordable food that nourishes the body and soul. A world where the struggle for a decent meal becomes a badge of honor or a sad reality is unacceptable.

It’s time to shatter these low expectations by raising the conversation around food poverty and breaking free from the limits of what’s deemed acceptable. In a just society, abundance should not be a privilege for a select few but a basic right for everyone.

When faced again with numbers like P64, remember that life, like a meal, should be rich, rewarding, and flavorful. At the end of the day, we all deserve more than just survival — we deserve to thrive.