I Lost A$1,500 in Manila's Most Dangerous Slum. On Purpose.
Let me explain the bet first, because without it none of this makes sense.
At the start of 2025 I made a bet against myself that I would not drink alcohol for the entire year. If I did, I had to donate A$5,000. I made it 6 months, went to Lebanon for the summer, and blacked out.
So here we are. A$5,000 to give away, 5 videos, various parts of the Philippines and Papua New Guinea, and it all starts in Tondo, Manila's most notorious slum, where I am about to hand out A$1,500 in a single afternoon.
Which honestly sounds more dramatic than it felt. Until it didn't.
The Tricycle Ride That Started Everything
To get the journey started I make my way to Divisoria and negotiate my way into a tricycle for 60 pesos (A$1.40). The driver's name is Brian. His co-driver, me, goes by Bing Bong for the ride, which is an absolutely real Filipino name and I will not be taking questions.
Brian has been driving tricycles for 15 years to provide for his family. That is the answer every single time you ask that question here, and it never gets less heavy.
Once there, I ask Brian to pick a number between 1 and 5. He picks 3, so I give him ₱3,000 (A$68). I came up with that game on the spot and it was definitely the best way to start donating. His reaction is the kind of thing that makes you feel genuinely strange about how little A$68 actually is where you come from and how much it can mean somewhere else. That contrast does not go away, no matter how many times you experience it.
The tricycles themselves are something I feel genuinely strongly about. They are apparently trying to abolish them here in the Philippines, which I think is criminal. Some have push bikes, some have motorbikes, some are barely held together.
This one was welded by hand and somehow fits up to 6 people inside a carriage designed for 2. They are one of the best forms of transport I have ever caught anywhere in the world, and the fact that they might disappear is a genuine loss.
Withdrawing a Suspicious Amount of Cash in Public
I need ₱57,000 (A$1,295) to make the whole thing work, which means finding an ATM and walking out with enough cash to make a reasonable person nervous.
The ATM itself is straightforward enough but what follows is not. You stand there, watch the machine count out more cash than most people in this neighbourhood see in a month, stuff it into your pockets as casually as you can, and then immediately become very aware of everyone within a 10 metre radius.
The man on his phone across the street has been on that phone for a very long time. The kid on the bike is just a kid on a bike, probably, but I watch him until he turns the corner anyway. By the time I reach the street I have mentally mapped every exit and convinced myself I am being followed by at least 3 people, none of whom are following me.
And there I am, standing outside that ATM with a brick of pesos in my hand, about to walk into one of Manila's most well-known slums, I have a brief moment of reflection. I go anyway.
Buying Jerseys for a Reason That Will Make Sense Shortly
Before heading into Tondo I want to pick up some NBA jerseys. The plan is to find a basketball court with kids, which is very easy here in the Philippines as it is one of the most popular sports, and make them compete for it. Loosely speaking.
Now, if you are not familiar with Divisoria, it is essentially a sprawling open-air labyrinth of stalls, shops and vendors stretching as far as you can see in every direction, selling everything from electronics to clothing to food at prices so cheap you start questioning reality. It is chaotic, loud, overwhelming, and brilliant, and I almost got lost.
I ask for help to find the right stall in the market, start choosing some of the jerseys and start negotiating. The girl working there opens at ₱380 (A$8.60) each, I push for ₱200 (A$4.55), and she laughs. After a bit of funny back and forth we land somewhere around ₱330 (A$7.50) for 4, pay ₱500 (A$11), and tell her to keep the change. She refuses. Three times. But eventually accepts it and waves goodbye.
The 4 jerseys: Kobe Bryant (Lakers), Steph Curry (Warriors), Michael Jordan (Bulls), and Larry Bird (Celtics).
Now we are finally ready to enter Manila's most dangerous slum.
Welcome to Tondo
I get a tricycle to Barangay 275 Pier for ₱200 (A$4.55) after talking the driver down from ₱300 (A$6.80).
Arrived, paid, and stepped out into Tondo. The first thing you notice is that it is not what you expect from something described as Manila's most dangerous slum.
People are just living their lives. Kids are running around. Somebody has a computer shop set up, ₱1 (A$0.02) for 6 minutes of internet. This is a popular business here in the Philippines, especially because in these poorer areas it is difficult for kids to afford phones or games, and every single monitor in the place is running Roblox except for one kid who is watching YouTube. Legend.
I keep walking and find my way to what they call the “beach”, in quotes, because it is somewhere between the delta of a river and a beach made of rubbish. I bump into a kid living in the house right there and we try to talk, but his English is very limited so we say our goodbyes and I keep hunting for a basketball court.
The Basketball Jersey Challenge
After a fair amount of walking I find a basketball court near the water and it genuinely has one of the best views I have ever seen attached to a basketball court.
As soon as I walk in, the kids start greeting me and everyone gathers around, throwing signs to the camera. I tell them I have 4 jerseys and they have to earn them with free throws. The rules are simple, I just came up with them: one shot each, and the first 4 to make it get a jersey. They are remarkably orderly about it, each person lining up, taking their shot, and the first 4 who score walk away with NBA gear.
It does not take long to get the 4 winners, some of them are genuinely talented, so I tell them they are going to shoot from half court and the first one to get it in wins ₱10,000 (A$227).
The first 3 go up one by one and each one comes agonisingly close. The first rattles in and out of the rim. The second clips the back of the board. The third gets nothing but backboard, which is not quite the same thing. The crowd groans every time and between shots nobody is saying much, everyone just watching and waiting.
Then it is Alfred's turn. He picks up the ball slowly, bounces it once, twice, looks at the basket for a long moment like he is having a private conversation with it, and the whole court goes quiet in the way courts only go quiet when something is about to happen. He shoots.
And buries it like it was nothing.
The court erupts. Everyone is screaming, jumping, grabbing each other, some of the kids are sprinting across the court for no reason other than pure joy. Alfred himself barely reacts for a second, then it hits him and the grin that comes across his face is the kind you cannot fake. I ask what he is going to do with the money and he says he is going to spend it on his family, gesturing to all the kids around him as he says it.
That is how I know the money went to the right hands.
Free Ice Cream for the Entire Neighbourhood
After the basketball challenge I find an ice cream vendor named Eddie doing rounds on a little bike cart. He has ube and cheese flavour and you can get them in a bread roll, a cheap cone, or a proper wafer cone. I go for an ube flavoured wafer cone.
I have never tried ube ice cream before and I still cannot explain what it tastes like. It is not like anything else, it was good, but the cone was even better, and on a hot Manila afternoon after walking around Tondo for hours it was exactly what the situation called for.
As it often happens whenever I buy ice cream on the street, a bunch of kids appear from nowhere and I end up buying one for them too. It always starts like this.
Then the word spreads, because it always spreads, and literally 5 minutes later all the kids from the neighbourhood are asking for one too. About 25 to 30 of them at this point. And then an old grandma comes over and asks if she can get one, adding that she should be first because she is old and it is a matter of respect.
I will say that was a bit awkward since I was buying for the kids, but sure, go ahead, get your ice cream first.
Preparing the cones for everyone is taking quite a long time and I have already finished mine, so I hand Eddie ₱5,000 (A$114) and tell him to keep going until it runs out.
Meeting the kindest man in Tondo
A few minutes walking down the road from the ice cream stall, a man drives past on his bike and starts waving at me. I wave back and he is clearly inviting me to jump on, and what better way to explore the real, raw side of the slums than to trust a stranger on a bike ride into the unknown. I say yes and we take off together.
His name is Roger and he is heading home. He says he will take me with him and show me where he lives, so that is where we are going. Not entirely sure where that is on the map, but that is not important right now.
The Philippines has a way of making the wealth gap feel almost violent when you see it up close, and Roger's home is a sobering reminder of that. It is a humble home on 2 levels. He gives me a room tour and in one of the rooms his kids are sleeping. He points toward a third level and the way up to the rooftop, so we go.
From Roger's rooftop you can see a massive international shipping port on one side and then just this thin strip of homes built basically on the water, one or two rows of houses wedged between government infrastructure and the ocean.
That is it. That is where people live and where I need to go next.
Roger has lived there for over 40 years. He is retired now but he used to work in Saudi Arabia for a decade and now drives a habal-habal on the side. He tells me his home is being renovated, probably a year away from being finished, and that it has already cost him somewhere between ₱600,000 and ₱700,000 (A$13,600 to A$15,900). Oh, and by the way, he has 11 children.
I do not have a great response to that so I just nod.
The Pool Hall Side Quest
After leaving Roger, I start walking into this new neighbourhood, still not entirely sure where I am. I keep walking and somehow end up inside a local pool hall, which I did not plan, but it is a great opportunity to come up with a new challenge and donate more money, so I challenge the best local to a game. If he wins, I will give him ₱5,000 (A$114).
The game descends into mild chaos almost immediately because I am playing by rules I do not fully understand and apparently neither is anyone else, but somehow I still manage to win a round. We agree that does not count and start over.
What follows is a proper back and forth. We are trading shots, the crowd is getting louder with every ball potted, and for a stretch in the middle I genuinely think I might win, which would have been a disaster for the vibe. But then he finds his rhythm and starts picking off balls with the kind of calm that is slightly annoying to be on the wrong side of. It comes down to one ball left. His shot. If he pots it, he takes the ₱5,000 (A$114). He lines it up, takes his time, and rolls it in clean. The room explodes, everyone shouting and slapping each other on the back like they have all personally won something, which honestly, fair enough.
I hand him over the money, and I see him giving the pool hall owner ₱1,000 (A$23), probably as a sign of respect or because he might have owed him money. Who knows. I say my goodbyes and keep walking.
The Second Basketball Challenge
Like I said, basketball courts are very easy to find in the Philippines, and sure enough I come across another one with kids playing and offer ₱1,000 (A$23) to whoever makes the next free throw. What follows is not the calm, orderly process from earlier. It is chaos. Kids pushing, crowds surging, me repeatedly saying "behind the line" to people who are absolutely not staying behind the line. One kid in a red shirt manages to hold it together long enough to sink a three-pointer for ₱2,000 (A$45). Another guy hits a shot for ₱3,000 (A$68).
Out of nowhere, Roger appears. I offer him a shot but he declines. His wife is with him and they have a van this time. He is heading out of the area and offers me a ride, which I take because the situation is getting more out of control by the second.
Everyone is asking me for money and surrounding me like I am someone important, which is flattering and slightly overwhelming. I take the front seat, lower the window, and hand some cash to the ref who has been helping me keep things roughly under control, because he deserves it more than most.
After that we take off to, once again, no idea. Just outside this area is fine. My plan is to get to Happyland so anywhere near there will do.
During the drive Roger shares more about his life and I really want to give him something for being so generous with his time. I wait until I have to leave, then hand him ₱3,000 (A$68). He declines and says to use it to help people who actually need it. I insist but he refuses again, so I thank him for his kindness and head toward the entrance of my next stop. Happyland.
Welcome to Happyland
I get a tricycle driver named Mario to take me to Barangay 105, Happyland, the supposedly most impoverished area of Tondo. Once there, I ask Mario to pick a number between 1 and 5. He picks 5, so I give him ₱5,000 (A$114).
Happyland is called that because the people there are, genuinely, happy. Or at least they present that way.
I decide to look for a barber and a kid named Brandon immediately starts walking me to one, but it is busy so I decide to keep walking around the area.
There is a basketball court here too but this one has been converted into an evacuation centre because of a fire that tore through the area on September 13th. Nearly 3,000 people lost their homes. The government was supposed to give ₱30,000 (A$682) to affected families but some of them, never received it because of an error in their name in the system. Crazy.
Meanwhile, the number of kids following me around grows to 7 so I decide to buy food for everyone. I ask what they want to eat and there is really only one right answer, which I should have expected. Jollibee. The biggest and most loved fast food chain in the Philippines.
So we all hop on a tricycle and make our way to the closest one in the area. Yes, all 8 of us. Some of them sitting on the roof. It is insane, funny, and definitely dangerous.
Jollibee Run With the Kids
Here in the Philippines most businesses have security guards at the entrance to control who comes in, and as soon as they see the kids they stop me and say I am the only one allowed inside. So I go in and order for everyone.
I get 5 yumburgers and 5 double special cheesy yumburgers with fries and drinks. Total comes to ₱1,250 (A$28). The group has mostly scattered by the time the food arrives, as groups always do, and we eat outside. The first bite of the double special cheesy yumburger is everything it needs to be.
As we eat on the side of the road, one of the kids mentions his house was washed out by the ocean. Another shows me an injury from a firework. A third tells me he has been in a car accident. They say it all so casually, the way kids do when difficult things are just part of the background of their lives and not the headline. There is no self-pity in it, no performance, just facts laid out between bites of food. It is the kind of moment that sits with you quietly long after the conversation has moved on, and I find myself just listening, not really knowing what to say, which is probably the right response.
The Fire Victims of Happy Land
After Jollibee we go back to Happyland and walk out onto the water, and I mean that literally. There are homes built on wooden planks extending over the bay, and after the September fire some of those planks are burnt to charcoal. The wood is thin. Some of it moves under your weight. If you fall in, you are probably catching something worse than a cold.
The people living there are sitting out on what remains of their homes drinking “Alonso”, which is a local spirit I am handed a shot of before I fully understand what is happening. Someone asks if I want marijuana. I decline. I give them money and we get a case of Red Horse instead.
I meet a man named Raul who has lived in that area since birth, his father too. Their home has been through the fire and they are still living in it, or what is left of it. Six of us sit there as the sun goes down, drinking beer on burnt wood above the water, and I hand over the remaining ₱25,000 (A$568) to the group. The man whose home we are sitting in has 5 kids who sleep on the floor with no mattresses, and he too has been missed by the government payout because of an administrative error.
At that point, for some reason, my camera changes its settings, probably because I hit something by mistake, and starts recording everything in slow motion, making the footage essentially unusable. Their reactions though were genuinely beautiful. One man had his head in his hands, crying. Even though I was not able to capture it properly, that moment will stay with me for a long time. We continue drinking and talking until the night comes, and then it is time to head back to the hotel and call it a day.
The Morning After
Next morning, Raul messaged me. They had already used the money to buy materials. Steel beams for the roof. Supplies for the rebuild. The place we were drinking at the night before, you can see in the daylight just how extensive the fire damage was. We could not see it properly in the dark.
Those A$568 went to the right people. I have no doubt about that.
The whole point of this trip was to hand over money I lost in a bet I made against myself because I got too drunk in Lebanon. And the final chapter of it ended with me accidentally filming the best moment on the wrong camera setting because I was too drunk. There is a lesson in there somewhere and I am choosing not to look too hard at it.
Next up, we are heading into the mountains of the Philippines to get tattooed by Apo Whang-Od, the oldest tattoo artist in the world, and giving away another $1,000 along the way.
See you on the next adventure!
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