On March 10, 2015, asserting the primacy of human life and safety, the Supreme Court rejected the appeals of the “Big 3” oil companies Shell, Chevron, and Petron to its November 2014 ruling that they stop operations and relocate from the Pandacan Oil Depot in Manila.

The oil companies were given six months to pull out after submission of an updated comprehensive relocation plan.  

The high court ruled that Manila City Ordinance 8187 (signed by Mayor Alfredo Lim) reclassifying the area as a heavy industrial zone was unconstitutional and invalid, and upheld Manila City Ordinance 8027 (signed by Mayor Lito Atienza), which reclassified portions of Pandacan and Santa Ana from industrial to residential and commercial areas.

More than a decade later, as I pass the site to and from various errands, I wonder what has become of the promises, proposals and counterproposals made by individuals and groups jostling to get portions of the 33-hectare land on the banks of the Pasig River just downstream from the country’s seat of power.

The district of Pandacan was established in 1574 by the Spanish colonizers as a Franciscan mission. In 1712, it was declared a separate parish from Our Lady of Loreto in Sampaloc. Many miracles have been attributed to the Santo Niño, whose image local children found in its marshland.

Farmers, laborers, artists

Pandacan was a farming community that sold its crops of rice and sugar to Spanish officials in Intramuros. The locals also produced bricks and tiles, cotton laces, shoes, clothes, and small boats. 

A study conducted on 19th-century labor in Manila yielded a surprising result: Pandacan was the only district in “Extramuros” that was split almost exactly down the middle between male and female labor. Its people were seamstresses, tailors, barbers, carpenters, boatmen, lechoneros, bakers, shoemakers, small business owners—what we would now call entrepreneurs.

The Compania General de Tabacos de Filipinas was established in 1882. Some streets still bear names like “Industria” (industry) and “Labores” (work).

The district was also called “Little Venice” or “Little Italy,” partly because of the many Pasig River tributaries and also because of the profusion of literary and musical talent that thrived here. The “Father of Philippine Poetry,” Francisco Balagtas, migrated here from Bulacan and famously dedicated his writings to his muse, Selya, as the boat they rode skimmed the waters of the Beata River. National hero Jose Rizal frequented the area because of his work as a surveyor, and later, when he asked the “Father of Philippine Opera,” Ladislao Bonus, to put his poetry to music. Rizal also set a scene in “Noli Me Tangere” in Pandacan: where Elias and Ibarra make their escape.

Operas such as “La Traviata” by Giuseppe Verdi were performed in a cockpit that doubled as an outdoor performance space colloquially called “Teatro Sipon,” which drew audiences from near and far.

The all-female Orkestrang Babae was established by Maestro Raymundo Fermin here. Banda Zamora, founded by Santos Daramidam in 1925, continues its advocacy of honing the musical talents of marching band members to this day.

It is also the birthplace of one of the martyr priests, Jacinto Zamora. Six Katipuneros were captured and executed here by the Spanish in Aug. 30,1896. And the “Sublime Paralytic,” Apolinario Mabini, migrated here from his native Batangas and eventually died here. 

In the early part of the 20th century, bucolic scenes of fields and mangroves gave way to industry, with the opening of the riverside area to the oil companies Shell, Caltex (Chevron), and Petron.

In 1942, as World War II raged, Japanese troops set the depots ablaze. After the Liberation of Manila in 1945, the area was reconstructed and operations eventually led to the storage of more than 313 million liters of gasoline, diesel, bunker oil, LPG, aviation jet fuel and other potentially hazardous chemicals.

Threat to life and livelihood

The concentration of hazardous substances in such a densely populated and precarious location, including their transportation by tankers from the depot to different parts of Metro Manila, became a source of concern for environmental and health impacts.

Over the years, various incidents occurred of oil leakage from the underground pipeline connecting the Batangas oil refinery to Pandacan, oil spills in the waterways, and tanker fires around Metro Manila.

A 2005 study by the University of the Philippines’ College of Medicine found a progressive rise in the number of cases of neurophysical disorders in the area. In the same year, a health survey assessed that the air in and around the depot contained high levels of benzene. A gasoline additive, benzene increases the risk of cancer and adversely affects the nervous, respiratory, and immune systems.

The attacks in the United States on 9/11, or Sept. 11, 2001, gave rise to more concerns about the vulnerability of the area to terror attacks, considering the dense concentrations of highly volatile substances.

Another concern was the anticipated effect of “The Big One,” or the earthquake forecast to be about 7.2 in magnitude in the National Capital Region, on the depot.

Of course, fears were raised of higher prices of oil products and logistical challenges as well as the loss of direct and indirect income from the withdrawal of the big oil companies. But these have since been proven unfounded. In the ensuing years, due to the absence of a high-risk industry in the district, more businesses have opened, including a big Mercury Drug mini-mart, branches of Jollibee and Dunkin’ Donuts, several small franchises, and micro, small and medium enterprises.

After most of the oil tanks were dismantled, there has barely been news on plans for the area owned by the Philippine National Oil Company. In 2019, commercial giant Ramon Ang proposed to build and operate a transport and food terminal at the site; it was envisioned to be directly connected to the Skyway expansion project aimed at decongesting vehicular traffic in Metro Manila.

Vulnerability assessment

In July 2019, the lawyer Donna Z. Gasgonia issued a report on the vulnerability assessment of the Pandacan Oil Depot. In it, she points out that the depot is located in a Planned Unit Development/Overlay Zone and, as such, requires a site plan in which buildings should be constructed with designs complementing land use. This will be conducive to an integrated community with usable open spaces and where significant land features, like easement of waterways along the Pasig River, should be preserved.

From focused group discussions held in April and June 2019, the desired developments fall under three categories: academic, through the creation of a university complex; health, through the creation of a health center or improved health facilities; and housing, through the construction of an affordable residential complex for long-term Pandacan residents.

Gasgonia recommended an ecosystems-based approach for land use planning, or the use of biodiversity and ecosystem services to help people adapt to the adverse effects of climate change, considering the area’s vulnerability to sea-level rise (flooding). 

She said the City Planning and Development Office had crafted the Pandacan SPARC (Strategic Priority for Area Regeneration and Collaboration), considering that the former oil depot is a Brownfield area—or contaminated land left abandoned and undeveloped. Much work must be done before any livable structures can be established, she pointed out.

The big question now is: What is the status of the remediation from soil and water contamination, and the rehabilitation and redevelopment of the area?

These must be undertaken for any sustainable development—one that provides all sectors opportunities for not only economic but also social and cultural benefits—to occur.

A pass-by place

But it seems that in the 21st century, Pandacan has become only a place to drive through or drive by, with bridges and flyovers helping get people to and from their destinations.

Itinerant dwellers squeeze into bed spaces with complete strangers just to recover their strength before heading to work again the next day.

Old folks like my father, who was born and grew up in Pandacan, recall how the district was so close-knit that residents were known by nicknames like “Daga,” “Asukal,” “Kalabaw,” or “Mata” for generations. Alas, many have left their old houses or been driven out by expansion, mostly in favor of wider roads and byways. They return in January for the fiesta in honor of the Santo Niño, to a place that looks and feels less and less familiar. 

The flowing waters and rich vegetation have been replaced by metal and concrete, strangling trees and rivers—in effect, suffocating the residents.

I am hypnotized by the constant traffic going in one direction above those going in the opposite direction on the skyways that tower over two- and three-story houses where about 85,000 residents are huddled around creeks and esquinitas. 

And now the elections are coming, and a whopping 11 candidates are vying to become mayor of Manila.

I wonder: What will happen to this once-illustrious part of the capital city?