*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM
There was a quiet decision I made recently—simple, practical, almost hopeful. I bought an electric scooter. In my mind, it was a small act of independence, a way to step away from the relentless rise of fuel prices. Habang pataas nang pataas ang gasolina, I told myself, maybe this is the escape. No more lining up at gas stations, no more watching prices change overnight, and no more calculating every kilometer like it was a luxury. Just plug, charge, and go.
But reality, as it often does, has a way of humbling even our most well-intentioned decisions.
Because as I stood there, watching my scooter quietly charge in the corner of my home, a thought crept in—one that was not as comforting as the hum of electricity flowing through its battery. Saan nga ba nanggagaling ang kuryente? Where does this power truly come from? And more importantly, am I really free from the very fuel crisis I was trying to escape?
The truth unfolded not in theory, but in the harsh interconnectedness of our world. A disruption in the Strait of Hormuz—a place so distant from our daily commute—can ripple across oceans and quietly reach our homes. When oil supply tightens, prices surge. And when oil prices surge, everything begins to move with it.
Hindi lamang gasolina ang tumataas. The ships that carry coal—yes, even the coal that powers many of our plants—run on fuel. The trucks that deliver, the machinery that operates, the entire chain breathes through oil. As oil prices rise, so does the cost of transporting coal. And as countries scramble to adjust, demand for coal increases, pushing its price even higher.
And so, the illusion begins to break.
The electricity charging my scooter—the very symbol of my escape—is not untouched by this crisis. It carries within it the cost of fuel, of transport, of global uncertainty. It is shaped by forces far beyond the walls of my home. What I thought was a departure from oil is, in many ways, still connected to it.
Napagtanto ko, hindi pala ganun kadali tumakas.
And as days passed, another layer of truth revealed itself—not in headlines, not in policy briefings, but in the quiet arithmetic of everyday living. While the electricity consumption of my electric scooter seemed, at first glance, undeniably cheaper, I began to see the costs that do not immediately present themselves. The wear and tear that slowly accumulates. The battery whose life is not infinite, whose replacement is not inexpensive. The maintenance that is different, yes—but not necessarily lighter.
And then came a moment I could not ignore—a moment that turned reflection into reality. After a 27-kilometer ride, powered by a 2000-watt motor and a 72-volt battery, my scooter simply stopped. No warning that mattered, no gradual easing into failure—just silence in the middle of motion. It was, in its own quiet way, a tragedy. Not dramatic, not headline-worthy, but deeply personal. In that instant, the promise of convenience met the truth of limitation. The journey I thought was efficient revealed its boundary. And I was left not only stranded on the road, but confronted by the very question I had tried to outrun: How far can this really take me?
At hindi doon nagtapos ang karanasan.
I brought the scooter back. Bitbit ko hindi lamang ang unit, kundi ang bigat ng karanasang iyon—ang pag-asang unti-unting napalitan ng pagdududa. The sadder part was not just the malfunction, but the response that followed. There were words—subtle but piercing—that seemed to shift the burden back to me, as if the failure were mine to carry. Sa halip na solusyon, may bahid ng sisi.
And yet, in the midst of that disappointment, there was a glimpse of integrity. The dealer—perhaps understanding the weight of what had happened—took the initiative to refund. Walang mahabang argumento, walang paligoy-ligoy. Just a decision to make things right.
Napaisip ako, swerte pa rin pala ako. Because the reality is, not everyone is given that kind of fairness. Marami ang napapabayaan, nabibiktima ng tinatawag nating budol—where once the product is handed over, ikaw na ang bahala sa buhay mo. No support, no accountability, no safety net. Just a transaction, stripped of responsibility.
Compared to traditional motor vehicles, there is a lingering question of durability. How long will this last? How often will it need replacement? And how much will that truly cost over time? These are not questions often asked when we speak of “savings,” but they are realities that cannot be ignored.
Unti-unti kong napagtanto, hindi pala ito tunay na pagtitipid. It is not the kind of saving that liberates—it is the kind that allows you to endure. You are not escaping the cost; you are merely reshaping it. Instead of paying heavily at the gasoline station, you pay quietly through electricity bills, through battery degradation, through the eventual need to replace what was once new.
And in that realization, the narrative shifts.
What we often celebrate as innovation becomes, in lived experience, a mechanism of adaptation. A coping strategy. A way to survive the immediacy of fuel hikes without truly escaping the deeper economic weight of mobility.
Because when an oil crisis strikes, it does not knock loudly at our doors. It seeps in—through higher transport costs, through increased generation charges, through the silent rise in our electricity bills. And before we even realize it, the burden has already arrived.
Oil Crisis → Higher Oil Prices → Higher Transport Cost → Higher Coal Cost → Higher Generation Cost → Higher Electricity Rates
Ito ang katotohanan na hindi natin agad nakikita, ngunit araw-araw nating nararamdaman.
And perhaps that is the most sobering realization of all—that even in our quiet attempts to adapt, to survive, to be practical, we remain bound to a system we cannot yet fully control.
As I walked away from that experience—without the scooter, but with a deeper understanding—I felt both pride and pause. Pride, because I had dared to try. Pause, because I now understood the deeper truth behind that attempt.
Hindi sapat ang tumakbo palayo sa krisis.
Kailangan natin itong harapin—bilang isang bansa, bilang isang sistema, bilang isang sambayanan.
Because in the end, the goal is not merely to escape rising fuel prices.
The goal is to build a future where the next generation no longer has to.
#DJOT
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