Crissa Tolentino has long been resigned to floods as a way of life. The 36-year-old public school teacher takes a paddle boat through the inundated streets nearly every day. It's the only way to travel from her home in the suburbs to the heart of Apalit, a low-lying town near the Philippine capital Manila.

The boat takes her to work, and to the clinic where she is being treated for cancer. She says she only sees dry streets for about two months in the year.

But this year she is very angry.

An unusually fierce monsoon has derailed daily life more than ever in the Southeast Asian nation, and sparked anger and allegations about corruption in flood control projects.

The rains have stranded millions mid-commute, left cars floating in streets that have turned into rivers and caused outbreaks of leptospirosis, a liver ailment that spreads through the excrement of sewer rats.

I feel betrayed, Ms Tolentino says. I work hard, I don't spend too much and taxes are deducted from my salary every month. Then I learn that billions in our taxes are being enjoyed by corrupt politicians.

It's a charge that resonates across the Philippines, where people are asking why the government cannot tame the floods with the billions of pesos it pours into infrastructure like roads, bridges and embankments.

Their anger is palpable on TikTok, Facebook, and X, with citizens venting against lawmakers and construction tycoons who they allege win contracts for ghost projects that never materialize. President Ferdinand Bongbong Marcos Jr himself acknowledged this as a continuing challenge on a visit to inspect a flood control dam that he found did not exist. The economic planning minister later reported that corruption had claimed 70% of public funds allotted for flood control.

Outraged Filipinos have even turned to AI-generated videos depicting lawmakers as crocodiles—a symbol of greed. Many are also vocal against nepo babies, the children of wealthy politicians whose extravagant lifestyles are prominently displayed on social media.

A significant anti-corruption protest is in the works for September 21, the anniversary of the day in 1972 when Ferdinand Marcos Sr. imposed martial law. His son, President Marcos Jr., is undoubtedly aware of how far public anger can drive political change.

As citizens prepare to demand transparency and accountability, Marcos Jr. has announced an inquiry that will attempt to unveil corruption in flood control funding.