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MANILA – For 20 years, amid military coups, typhoons, terrorist attacks and a People’s Power revolution, Rollie Magalona’s clients have come to his barbershop in Metro Manila for more than a cut and shave.
Despite everything, rich and poor have crowded into the store in the Mandaluyong district of the Philippine capital, taking longer than necessary to discuss the news of the day and exchange the latest political gossip.
But the pandemic has changed all that. The store these days is almost empty. The din of the talk has been muted, and the few people who enter nervously are in no mood for small talk.
The salon, Jolog’s Barbershop, has always been a kind of microcosm of the country, its mirrors reflect a diversity of faces from all over society. Today, seven months since the country enacted the first of several closures, the store exemplifies the high price that the coronavirus has exacted in the country: the inextricable losses of lives, income and sense of community.
“It’s very difficult to focus on this,” said Magalona, 47. “It used to be that we always had customers lined up. Now we try to stay open until night, but the streets are already deserted. What’s worse, we can also get infected. You never know. “
Since March, the Philippines has been in various stages of lockdown, the longest stretch of any country in Asia. The barbershop, like many businesses, was initially forced to close when the virus was first detected, but has since been allowed to reopen subject to strict health codes and measures.
Hairdressers are required to wear yellow scrubs and face masks. A sign pasted on top of a mirror reads: “No mask allowed, not allowed.” Only four customers can be accommodated at any one time, and they are told to sanitize before entering the store.
Similar restrictions exist throughout the country. Churches in this overwhelmingly Roman Catholic nation have reopened, but are only allowed to accommodate 10 percent of their capacities. Customers entering shopping malls should first monitor the temperature and areas should be marked with X signs to prevent clumping.
But even with restrictions in place, the country is struggling to control the outbreak. As of Thursday, the Philippines has recorded more than 294,590 cases and more than 5,000 deaths.
Some 27.3 million Filipinos have already lost their jobs due to the resulting economic recession. In the second quarter of the year, the country entered a recession, falling 16.5 percent, its worst performance in nearly four decades.
The Manila-based Asian Development Bank has forecast that the country’s economy will contract by 7.3 percent throughout 2020. Growth is forecast to be 6.5 percent next year, but only if find a vaccine.
At an upscale mall in southern Manila, there were hardly any shoppers despite the start of the country’s four-month Christmas season, the longest in the world.
“Normally, sales go up this season,” said Aldrin Esteber, a young father of two who works in a milk tea shop.
The shop used to employ five workers, he said, but the rest were laid off because there was too little business.
“We used to have long lines of people standing in line before going to see movies, but with cinemas closed and most people staying home and not looking for a vacation, it’s a general slowdown,” he said.
The expressive president of the country, Rodrigo Duterte, has recognized that the fight against the coronavirus has been a burden on the government coffers and has told the public to tighten their belts.
But he has also confused the government’s message, even joking that people should douse themselves with gasoline as a disinfectant. At the beginning of the outbreak, he told police officers to shoot anyone who joined a demonstration after several people were arrested while protesting the slow delivery of government aid.
While the restrictions can help decrease infections, they are wreaking havoc with companies like Jolog’s Barbershop. It’s impossible for barbers like Mr. Magalona and his colleagues to cut clients’ hair remotely, and now something as mundane as a cropped hairstyle carries some risk.
“I don’t know of any other line of work,” said Julieto Ballaga, another barber at the store and father of two young children. “When the closure was first imposed, I had no other choice. He was on call for home service. Was he afraid? Yes. But I need to work? Yes too. There was no other option. “
One recent afternoon, Rosie Camacho, a moneylender, walked into the store.
He came not to collect money, but to cool off in the air conditioning and offer his daily dose of religious advice.
At age 70, she is considered vulnerable and is not supposed to go out. But no one dared to tell him otherwise.
“This is God’s way of reminding us of our blessings and to go back to church,” he said. “The Bible tells us that all you need is love and understanding. He didn’t tell us anything about a vaccine. “
