REPORTER: Mark Davis Like many large Asian cities, Manila's private and public transport systems have long passed the point of overload, a system of choked roads designed it seems, to ensure that you can get nowhere fast. - unless you're on one of these. Intense gridlock has encouraged one little flower to bloom in the transport wasteland - the trolley cars of Manila. Carving through traffic jams on one these little trolleys is a breeze, but not exactly a pleasure, with the thought of 1,000 tonnes of train looming around the corner. REPORTER: This is faster than a taxi. HENARO DACLISON: Yeah, no traffic, but we have enemies - the trains. REPORTER: That's your natural enemy. HENARO DACLISON: Yeah. Henaro Daclison has been running these rails and successfully avoiding his natural enemy for 18 years. HENARO DACLISON: When someone hears the hoot we just move. REPORTER: And what about me too – jump off quick ha! HENARO DACLISON: Yeah. With a train coming from one direction or the other every 15 minutes, Henaro, his young son and guests are certainly kept on their toes. HENARO DACLISON: This is my younger son, Gerald. REPORTER: Hello, Gerald For a couple of days, Henaro becomes my guide to the community of trolley men who live and work around PUP - the Philippines University. REPORTER: How many kids have you got? HENARO DACLISON: I have 2 kids, 9 and 6 years old. REPORTER: And they live with you? HENARO DACLISON: Yeah. Home is a camp beside the railway line, and most of the time it's safer for Gerald to spend his days with his dad. REPORTER: I'm Mark. My name's Mark. Can you say Mark? Mark. That's it. The family were forced out of this area a few years ago and moved to a squatter relocation area on the outskirts REPORTER: So where do you sleep now? HENARO DACLISON: Me on the trolley with my two kids in the side car, a rolling side car - that's my house. At the entrance to the university, a dozen or so trolley drivers live and ply their trade. This camp is as illegal as the trolleys themselves. Periodically there will be a raid by railways police here but the service the trolley guys provide buys them a lot of friends and a bit of tolerance. No-one else can cut 30 minutes off a bus or taxi ride downtown with a 5- or 10-minute trundle. MAN: It’s comfortable for us. Comfortable, and at about 10 cents a ride, very cheap. REPORTER: How much does a ride cost you? MAN: 5 pesos per person. REPORTER: And how much does the train cost? MAN: It's 10 pesos for a new train. REPORTER: And how much does a taxi cost? MAN: It's 30 pesos for the rid All the passengers here know the drill. When the horn blows, you get off and move to the side - very quickly. As soon as the train passes, it's back on board to enjoy another 2km or 3km of open road. Apart from some apparent safety flaws, the trolleys are everything public transport is meant to be - cheap, reliable and always on the move. And on the face of it, all the staff seem pretty chirpy too. Ernie has been riding the rails for 16 years and credits it with saving his life. ERNIE: Before you know I had hypertension - two times I been stroke. When I tried this one, I didn't have stroke any more. REPORTER: It's a better job, huh? ERNIE: Yeah, yeah. REPORTER: So, you like this job, what was your job before? ERNIE: Security guard. All stories are about perspective and you certainly get a different view of the trolley guys from the driver's seat of a passenger train. Ryan has one of the most hair- raising jobs in the Philippines. Train tracks are regarded here as rare open space to be enjoyed by all. Crowded on all sides, and bang in the middle, are the trolley men. ERNIE: They shouldn't be on the railway tracks. The trolley man is very dangerous to the PNR operations. REPORTER: Do people get hit sometimes? ERNIE: Oh plenty. REPORTER: Plenty? ERNIE: Yeah. REPORTER: Did he hit? Did the train hit? And hit the man? MAN 2: Yeah! Chop, chop! REPORTER: Killed the man? MAN 2: Yeah, killed the man. Camps and shanties are cleared out of here every few years but life soon trickles back. And when the people come, the trolley guys soon follow. HENARO DACLISON: Alabung moves. With continual left and right moves. At night, I go, I get my troll REPORTER: And you sleep on the trolley? HENARO DACLISON: Yeah, but my two kids, on the side car. REPORTER: So this becomes your bed? HENARO DACLISON: Yeah. Henaro walks over the land where he was born - a shantytown that the rail authorities demolished two years ago. When Henaro moved back from his relocation area, this time he put his house on wheels. A simple bike with a side car provides just enough room for his kids to sleep and the ability to make a quick get away if the railway police come. HENARO DACLISON: Dinner lunch everything on this trolley etc. REPORTER: You're ready for the night. The trolley is your home and your work. HENARO DACLISON: It's everything. When I was going to my relocation I had no food in relocation I have nothing to eat. So I take a move with my family. We go back to Manila to PUP REPORTER: To get the work? HENARO DACLISON: Yeah. Henaro's home sits right beside the wall of the University of the Philippines. This is the university beside us here, right? Just a few short steps, but a world away. Remarkably, Henaro crossed that divide, passed the entrance exam, and studied at the university for two years until poverty pulled him back to the rails. HENARO DACLISON: Computer technology. Undergraduate, no practical serve REPORTER: But that's very good. You went to school and you got into university. HENARO DACLISON: Lack of money to feed my family. So I push trolley. Just commonsense. REPORTER: There's no work in the computer business for you? HENARO DACLISON: No. Some day if I win the lotto I will take up computer business. It's dinner time for Gerald and his brother Henair. Henaro and his trolley take a break before the evening shift begins. He won't finally rest until midnight. The Philippines seems to be full of stories like Henaro's. Smart, motivated people unable to get a leg up. He fell back, but Henaro hopes his own two kids can get off the rails. Henair is in school and Gerald is soon to follow. HENARO DACLISON: He's going to school soon in June. He six REPORTER: What do you want to be when you grow up? HENAIR: A policeman. GERALD: I want to be a soldier. HENARO DACLISON: Not a computer technician? REPORTER: They'll coming down, chasing out the trolley men. For now Henaro makes the best of what he has. And what he has is not too bad. HENARO DACLISON: I like my neighbours. We're one big family here. REPORTER: You've got lovely kids. HENARO DACLISON: Yes, I love my kids. That's why, when I've very tired, then I will wake up, then I will see my two kids beside me. I'm very powerful, very strong to push the trolley. REPORTER: Do you hope they will go to university one day, maybe? HENARO DACLISON: Maybe I hope so. REPORTER: I think you are doing a good job. HENARO DACLISON: Two kids? REPORTER: No, you. You're doing a good job. HENARO DACLISON: Yeah, I'm doing a good job beside my two kids. Reporter/Camera MARK DAVIS Producer ASHLEY SMITH Fixer CAROLINA CLAUDIO Second Camera LUIS LIWANAG Editor DAVID POTTS Translations/Subtitling RONALD MANILA Original Music Composed by VICKIE HANSEN