03/01/2026
Three Faces of Carbon Public Market’s Looming New Normal
It has lived for over a century. It is older than all of us. The Carbon Public Market serves as a big window into the local life and a heritage place of Cebuanos in the past decades, sustaining the lifestyle of local farmers and vendors. It has become a public domain for them to freely run small businesses to cope with a fast-changing economy as decades swiftly pass. In 2022, the Cebu City Government and Megawide Construction Corporation went into a joint venture: a lucrative 50-year plan with a 5.5 billion budget for a modernization project to redevelop this historic market into a commercial district — and that is where the slow demolitions started. It was met with protests from disenfranchised small vendors, but their efforts remained futile.
With the ongoing demolition, modernization, and privatization of this historic market, things are about to change for the farmers’ market vendors — for better or for worse. Things haven’t been the same for vendors here, especially for a Carbon Public Market vendor who has been here for years on end. It’s a new experience for a worker that was used to selling a lot more food years ago.
Meet Ryan.
“Mingaw na kaayo diri, lahi na jud,” [It has become so sombre here. It’s so different now.] A sweating Carbon market vendor, Ryan, said wearily as he wiped the grease off the table he was asked to clean. The steam from the food that was cooked reached us and hit the 2 PM heat, making the place hotter and borderline unbearable. The kind vendor still chose to proceed with the interview despite the irritated looks his boss gave him. Who would not be irritated when you’ve been at work almost all day and you haven’t reached the expected quota of customers?
The drudgery of routine has got to Ryan, too, as he was also tirelessly calling some customers to buy some cheap local P**o Maya they were selling. What were 10 customers he could call in one hour years ago is now reduced to three, one, or sometimes even getting no customers at all. He has been working here in the Carbon Public Market for 15 years. Since the slow reconstruction and planned privatisation of this once historical market, it is never the same for him and for the shop where he works.
This case for Ryan and for the business owner would inevitably intensify in the coming years. On June 24, 2025, outraged vendor groups in Cebu City urged the city council to null and scrap the final reading of the 2025 Revised Zoning Ordinance. Carbon Market vendors and working class advocates labelled Mayor Nestor Archival Sr.’s act of supporting a zoning ordinance that aims to recategorize public markets from institutional to commercial as a “betrayal”. Vendor leaders claimed exclusion from public hearings and had lacked legislative transparency from the other end.
“The third and final reading is the last breath of life namo ari sa Carbon,” [The third and final reading is our last breath of life here in Carbon], a vendor said in an interview by Cebu Daily News. On July 8, 2025, Vice Mayor Tommy Osmeña, on the other hand, announced his opposition and his intent to scrap the 5.5 billion pesos Joint Venture Agreement to redevelop Carbon Public Market. Whatever the final decision is, vendors and small-time workers like Ryan in Carbon Market still exist, and their discomfort is ever-present with the changes that have been made and will be inevitable as soon as the looming big establishment changes come towards them. It is also now just a matter of time until things get finalized. The clock ticks.
The Carbon Public Market still withstands, but the deterioration of its traditional value is slowly becoming apparent. During this interview with Ryan, the second floor of this market at a supposedly afternoon peak time was very silent, something that was unusual back then. Years ago, in its original form, it was always hustling and bustling with buyers, and the public market was louder, one of the trademarks of the traditional merkado character that the average Cebuano would mundanely and culturally immerse in, day in and day out. Today, the most noticeable noise you can hear in the market isn’t the endless chatter and loud ways of trading or selling goods — it is the loud, trendy, and monotonously repetitive music for the Zumba activities that regularly take place in the market’s centermost activity area. The place resembled an unfinished local provincial town mall with a small activity center, but with achingly fewer people in it and some abandoned stalls that had failed to continue to operate their business.
“Mingaw na kaayo. Ang ubang customers diri, mga edad edaran na gud [kanang daghan sila], dili na gud manaka,” [It has become so somber now. Some customers here are a bit old, and there are a lot of them. They don’t want to climb the stairs anymore,] Ryan said. Since the Carbon public market’s dry goods building was reconstructed from a single-story establishment to a relatively massive four-story building, some middle-aged people and senior citizens who used to go to the old traditional Carbon market to get the satisfaction of purchasing fresh goods for less do not bother to climb the stairs or even explore the entirety of the market anymore.
At this point, it isn’t even done yet; still, it is impossible to avoid noticing the increasing number of stalls that are closing and/or inactive on the east side of the second floor, which was supposedly for karinderyas and cooked food stalls in general. The space that was occupied by the eateries there was smaller than the closed stalls. The negative space is apparent. The same goes for the second floor, which sells native furniture, general merchandise, and Cebuano local goods. Some shops and eateries mentioned were some small businesses that were relocated from the demolished Freedom Public Park last 2022.
The ground floor was busier, but not as busy as before, as Ryan also described. It consists of vendors there selling dry goods, fruits and vegetables, some small grocery operators, pharmacies, school supplies shops, and flower shops that are doing their best to get by. Only the vendors who could cope with the changing establishment remained. The total 180-degree change of the market structure removed the old nostalgic feeling that most older Cebuano consumers look for, which they cannot find anymore. One could not call it a ghost market, but if an older Cebuano compares the new and the old, one would say that the latter was livelier.
Beyond the economic impact of this modernization project also lies a big cultural impact on this historic market. This farmer’s market is a landmark site for many Cebuanos, despite its chaotic and fast energy years ago. The current redevelopment of the Carbon Public Market may inevitably raise concerns about preserving the area’s heritage. In a few decades, it will never be the same. The cost of its orderliness and commercialization is the slow loss of the market’s cultural identity and heritage— a hefty price to pay. With the redevelopers’ 50-year-plan to change this century-old market, it is clear that this is only the beginning and there will be more changes on the way. One could wonder how the Carbon Market would be five decades from now. Will the “farmer’s market” essence remain? Let us see in the next years.
When Ryan was asked what he preferred, the new or the old market, and what made him the most profit, he could only say in an affirmative, yet bittersweet tone: “Siyempre, katong sa una [diri nga namaligya pa ko’g isda].” [Of course, I’d pick the old one, when I used to sell fish,]
Times have changed for him.
What the new Carbon Public Market’s developers would describe as the market being more “organized” and more “modern” only meant vendors’ choice between swimming or sinking, changing of ways, and the dreaded high rental hikes, resulting in them being displaced, having fewer chances of monetizing the once free and public asset that catered and gave benefits to the Cebuano working class.
Meet Nang Lita.
Nang Lita has been in the Carbon Public Market for 50 years since she was 15 years old. She was a helper, selling vegetables in her teenage years, and now she’s 65 and a helper in a meat shop in the Carbon Wet Public Market, right next to the interim building. It was around 4:30 PM when she was in the meat shop with a tired helper next to her. There is a stark difference between the wet and the dry market. The dry market is clearly unfinished from the redevelopment and paused reconstruction, drowning in Zumba noise. The wet market, on the other hand, is filled with rat squeaks and dogs’ barks echoing through the almost empty wet market. It feels hollow.
Nang Lita called on a few customers who were walking by while we were doing the interview, but to no avail; they ignored her. She lowers the prices for some to buy the pork meat she was cutting, only for them to say “didto lang mis gawas te,” [We’ll buy outside instead,]. She looks at me with a tired look and says, “Maayo ranis kadlawn kay daghan-gamay ang mosulod diri, inigkahayag-hayag, wala naju’y manulod.” [This wet market here is only good during the dawn, because there are many or few people who would come in here. When the sun rises and when it is bright enough, no one would come anymore,]
She went back inside the small shop and started organizing the meat. “Tungod gud ni sa kamingaw, daghan nang mubag-o.” [It’s because of the somberness. A lot of things would change.] Come to think of it, the Carbon Wet Market isn’t fully redeveloped yet. It is good to anticipate what the outcome would be if everything were already changed. It is important to note that whilst the wet market is still left untouched, Nang Lita expressed her concerns over the incoming redevelopment of the wet market — concerns about their inevitable displacement and relocations that would take a long time, the loss of long-time patrons, and the hectic readjustments they would do all over again.
Nang Lita also mentioned the possibilities of her being disoriented for an indefinite amount of time if the next demolition takes place in the wet market she is in. “Naa gu’y panahon nga mubalhin gud kami, pahawaon mi kay ilang tukuran diri ug bag-o, dili lang mi kahibalo kung kanus-a” [There will be a time that we’ll move out. They’ll force us out, we just don’t know when it’s gonna happen,] A tinge of uncertainty was clear from her words and her half-smile. This is the concern that most vendors have, who will be forced to move out due to the continuing demolitions that are about to come.
“Daghan nangalugi, nangapuli, og nangapurdoy.” [A lot of people’s businesses here failed, were replaced, and some ended,] She emphasized the fact that some meat and fish shops that were frequenting there were replaced or moved out due to various small-scale economic reasons — the lack of people coming in, the current privatization of the market, and the possibility of them indefinitely moving out for the redevelopment.
“Maniguro nalang tawn ta ani,” [We’ll just do our best.] Nang Lita sighed.
Meet Lola Marites.
In 1960, she was an 11-year-old child helper in one of the earliest stalls in the old Carbon Public Market. 65 years later, and the year is 2025 — now, she owns her own shop of local spices that has been operating for decades now. Lola Marites sustained her needs by being in this market almost all her life. She is 76 years old as of writing. Her nimble and soft smile was enough for me to approach her for an interview as she was about to close her shop, located on the ground floor of the dry goods interim establishment. This hardworking old woman was one of the few vendors who were against the demolition of stalls done by the Cebu City government in July 2022 as part of its modernization project. She also expressed her sentiments in our interview regarding the privatization of the Carbon Public Market in a disapproving tone, contrasting her demure disposition.
“I-maintain gyud nang public [market] kay kung i-private, di na na public, kay karaan na kaayo ni nga market. [Kung i private], dili na madala og Carbon Public Market. Mao man na’y original!” [It should be maintained as a “public market” because if they make it private, then it’s not gonna be public anymore. That’s the original!], Lola Marites exclaimed. What seemed like a repetitive statement in the ears of an upper-class person was a wise rhetorical statement to the people who knew and who lived through the decades-old and long-standing market that is now being “modernized” to adapt to changing times. The old vendor was more concerned with it being private because it meant changing an entire system that she was used to for years on end, and with the market being mainly owned by private developers meant that the supposedly public asset is not truly for the public. “Dili mana dapat ing-ana,” [It’s not supposed to be like that,] Lola Marites added.
On a positive note, she has mentioned the improved safety that the new interim building security brought compared to the past recent years of Carbon being known as an infamous hotspot for petty crimes. “Pero wa na’y kuyaw, daghan man og snatchers sa una, dili na parehas karon, unya limpyo na pa gud, kay ang bag-ong interim, naa nama’y guard,” [There’s nothing to be worried about now. There were a lot of snatchers back then and it currently isn’t the case, plus the market is clean now because the interim building already has security guards put in place,] Lola Marites said. Aside from that, there are also strict rules put in place that are closely monitored by the official Carbon Market staff, like the No Smoking Policy City Ordinance 2241. Officials can be seen roaming around, overseeing the market activities.
The Cebu City government, along with Cebu2World Development Inc. (under Megawide Construction Corp.)’s ongoing plans for Carbon Public Market’s modernization highlight a multi-level and multi-purpose development that combines traditional market stalls with modern offerings. They primarily aim to transform the area into a commercial district and as well as a tourist destination. “We envision Carbon market to be the model for urban renewal and public market modernization in the country.” Megawide chairperson and chief executive officer Edgar Saavedra said in an interview with the Philippine News Agency. For long-time vendors like Lola Marites, this could mean more comfort because of security and orderliness put in place, but could also mean the financial revenue ambiguities between the vendors, the developers, and the local government.
Mayor Nestor Archival stated concerns that the modernization project with the developers could lead to increased tariffs and the displacement of smaller vendors, potentially replacing them with larger businesses, similar to shops in an urban mall. He still mentioned not cancelling the contract. Instead, the Cebu City mayor wanted to halt the ongoing work at the market to hold a renegotiation for a better plan that will not be “disadvantageous” to the public market vendors. There are approximately 6,000 of them, waiting for fate to turn in their favour.
Lola Marites mentioned that her being an “original” owner of one of the stalls for years, even decades, hence her payment for the space in the new establishment remained the same and never increased. “Mao ra gihapon akong gibayran man,” [I’m still paying the same amount,] she said in a meek tone. How about the payment system of the new “renters”? When she was asked about it and who the new renters were in the area, Lola became reserved.
The unease and tension by this time were palpable as a Carbon Market official staff member brushed past us. Perhaps Lola Marites knows more than what she lets on, or she just doesn’t want to talk about it.
The old lady seemed to have much great faith in her experience, expecting the system not to exponentially change at all, at least for now. What will possibly await her after the continuation of the Carbon Public Market redevelopment? May it be the same fees. May it not increase after its total privatization. This is not only for Lola Marites, but also for the vendors that have been here for years and decades on end.
For the redevelopers, it is a mere modernization project. For the vendors, it means facing the risk of their businesses being overtaken by bigger establishments with bigger capital, which they do not have. An affordable vegetable produce may have the price of a produce bought in a grocery store, which is more expensive, then we will inevitably look at the people who only earn minimum wage or below. The list goes on about what this redevelopment’s ripple effect will be.
The Carbon Public Market is not only an establishment, but a working ecosystem that has long sustained the working class and urban poor. Their experiences are the evident microcosm of the overall experiences of marginalized people who cannot make decisions, but just follow what is being said by whoever is more powerful than them.
To the eyes of the people who rule, they are mere agents of commercialization. For the people who know the hustle of an everyday Carbon Market vendor, it is much more than that — they are parents, grandparents, and struggling people who are maintaining a livelihood they have had for years.
When we buy from bigger businesses and companies, we might be funding their jets and yachts, their international trips, or their newest luxury car. When we buy from a small farmers’ market vendor, we are most likely funding their rent, their everyday food, and their children’s education. The reality is black and white, but despite this, life will go on for Ryan, Nang Lita, and Lola Marites as long as they continue being in Carbon Public Market. They will have to adapt to a new normal, run by a system that leaves them with no choice. May the odds be in their favor.
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Feature by Waynenona Balosca
Visual by Jyreneah Angel
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