Nature Calls

A Covenant for Malhiao’s Mangroves

2011-07-03T21:24:00.001+08:00

Seacology’s win-win formula is simple. An island community commits to protect a natural resource, and in return, Seacology funds a tangible need of the community. To finalize the agreement, a Covenant between the community and Seacology is then signed.

The covenant is not complicated. It just stipulates a few important points: that Seacology will provide the funds required to build the tangible; that Seacology will not claim ownership over any land or sea belonging to the community; and that in return the community pledges to protect the no-take zone agreed on.

From past experience, this process is usually straightforward. The village will sign the covenant, and the construction will commence. That is, until the village of Malhiao raised a few questions that I thought should be answered face to face.

It took a good three hour ride to get to Malhiao from Cebu City, past the noted beaches of Argao and Moalboal. The barangay’s leaders, led by putative Barangay Captain James Taboada, were waiting for us by the time Delfa Talaid of Tambuyog (Seacology’s project partner) and I got there late morning yesterday. “Putative” because he is all but officially that, the previous Barangay Captain having died from a stroke the week before, I was just informed. Burial is today, July 3.

The object of the covenant is the village’s commitment to protect 73 hectares of mangroves for 15 years, in exchange for Seacology’s funding of the construction of a boardwalk and view deck on the Mangroves. The community hopes to develop its own tourism industry by showcasing their lush mangroves.

Of the many concerns they raised, I found four to be particularly incisive, which I have listed below along with my response to each:

Question: What exactly does a “no-take zone” mean? The community conducts mangrove planting activities every once in a while, and there is a concern as to whether activities of that sort will constitute a violation of the covenant. In fact, the Bureau of Jail Management and Penology, in partnership with Malhiao, has a continuing program where parolees go to Malhiao to plant mangrove trees as part of their community service. Incorporating tree planting in future educational tours are planned as well.

Answer: Tree planting is allowable because this is not extractive in nature.

Question: Enforcing the no-take zone among the villagers of Malhiao is not a problem, but some fisherfolk from neighboring barangays go to the mangroves to collect shellfish for food. Will people still be allowed to gather shellfish within the mangroves if the mangrove trees themselves are left alone?

Answer: No. Setting aside the mangroves as a no-take zone means that gathering of any sort is prohibited. The benefits of this policy will redound to the five-hectare multi-use zone that the community has also declared. Maintaining an undisturbed mangrove area means more juvenile marine life will have a chance to grow into spawning adults, and the resulting spillover to the multi-use zone will mean more bountiful harvests. It is easy to imagine noticeable results in the quality of harvests in the multi-use zone within six months if the mangroves are fully protected.

Question: What if Malhiao is unable to effectively protect the mangroves? Will there be a penalty imposed?

Answer: The first casualty, if the integrity of the mangroves is ruinously violated, is the productivity of the five-hectare multi-use zone. That by itself is heavy enough a penalty. Secondarily, the plans of the community to capitalize on tourism and the potential business it can bring will be in jeopardy. It will be hard to look for tourists who are willing to pay to see a mangrove area where people indiscriminately set traps and collect all sizes of crabs, seashells, and whatnot. But as far as Seacology is concerned, no penalty can or will be imposed, though it will be unlikely that we will enter into another agreement with the community in the future.

Question: Why does Seacology insist on a term on the village’s commitment to protect the mangrove?

Answer: The covenants Seacology enters into generally have a term ranging from 10 to 30 years. This stems from Seacology’s view that the succeeding generation should be free to make commitments of their own. If after 15 years the next generation decides to continue protecting the mangroves, it will be because they appreciate the merits of doing so; not because they have to honor some agreement their fathers entered into long ago.

We wound up beginning a shared lunch still discussing the covenant, until the conversations drifted onto other matters towards the end. Finally, after lunch, with all questions laid to rest, the covenant was signed.

Then came the many ideas on the mangroves. Educational tours, guided mangrove river canoe rides, and bird watching are some of the possible mangrove activities that could spark the beginnings of tourism. Already, Tambuyog has had talks with the Regional Department of Education highlighting the Malhiao mangroves. As a result, an April 2011 memorandum was issued holding the Malhiao mangroves as a guide in the implementation of the Coastal Ecosystem Education program of the department. To assist the barangay in enforcing the no-take zone, the Municipality of Badian agreed to train some villagers to become mangrove guards, and to provide enforcement support if needed.

Looking back, if the questions on the project were raised as a consequence of the barangay’s sudden leadership transition, then a lot of credit must be given to incoming Barangay Captain Taboada. He did not just go along with his predecessor’s project. He took the project, analyzed it, and after being satisfied with it, gave it his approval, thereby putting the responsibility for the project squarely within his watch.

With each question I was asked, my impression on the seriousness of how the villagers of Malhiao are taking the covenant only deepened. There was a tour of the mangroves on a makeshift raft later on with some of the village’s leaders. It was a really nice and refreshing tour along passages between huge clusters of mangrove trees. But my mind was still on the upturn of the villagers’ regard towards their commitment with Seacology since we arrived. I just witnessed their progression from fawn-like tentativeness, to a doe’s leap of faith, to a stag’s confidence and optimism in the future. All in one day.

It was a good feeling that stayed with me throughout the long bus ride back to Cebu City. And then some.

Protecting the mangroves and reefs of eastern El Nido

2011-06-13T14:40:00.001+08:00

How much is a coral reef worth?

On May 25, 2011, the country was jolted by horrific news. A coral reef at the Moro Gulf, off Mindanao Island, five times the size of Manila was deemed destroyed when 21,169 pieces of black coral, 196 kilos of sea whips, 163 dead hawksbill and green turtles, and 7,340 pieces of trumpet and helmet shells, all harvested from the reef were intercepted at the Manila port by Customs officials as they were about to be shipped abroad. Ludivina Labe, a Senior Marine Biologist at the Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources (BFAR) described it as the decimation of an entire reef complex, and Customs Commissioner Angelito Alvarez put the blame squarely on the multibillion-dollar marine ornamental industry for exotic decorative species and coral-accented jewelry. The shipper and consignee have been identified are being hunted by the authorities as of this posting. But this story does not end here.

Last June 4, BFAR led a raid on the shipper’s warehouse in Zamboanga City, uncovering an estimated 30 to 40 tons of similar “marine products” roughly five times the volume of the previous discovery. A staggering chunk of marine habitat was taken just like that, leaving a severely impaired ecosystem in its wake.

How much is a coral reef worth? For so-called connoisseurs of exotic jewelry, a tiny chip of black coral with chain on sterling silver would cost about US$90 (internet price). About a hundred such chips can probably be made out of a single meter-long black coral. And then there are the turtle-shell eyeglass frames and decorative seashells. The cargo intercepted at the port of Manila is estimated to be worth about 35 million pesos or over US$800,000. If the stash at the Zamboanga City warehouse is five times that, the entire haul would be roughly 210 million pesos or US$4.8 million.

How much is a coral reef worth? For islanders enticed to gather the corals, turtles and shells, it is worth what they are able to sell to the middlemen. Likely, they make more money doing this than what they normally would make if they were to farm or fish. As reef fishes disappear to dynamite and cyanide fishing, corals, shells and other rarer marine life are the next to fall. Moving further and further out to sea becomes just another fact of life as the gatherers leave behind virtually lifeless reefs, if those can still be called that.

The BFAR’s website reports that “only 4 percent of Philippine reefs [is] in excellent condition (i.e., over 75 percent hard or soft coral cover), 28 percent in good condition (50-75 percent coral cover), 42 percent in fair condition (25-50 percent coral cover), and 27 percent in poor condition (less than 25 percent coral cover).” One can only wonder how much the numbers have changed since those statistics were determined.

Home to a very diverse aquatic species, coral reefs provide not just food but also livelihood, tourism included, for coastal communities. As people living off the sea for generations, they should be aware of the imperative to protect the little that remains of their reefs. And they are. Unfortunately, for the impoverished many, the gravitational pull of earning a quick profit, regardless of consequences, is too strong.

But not for others.

Barangays Sibaltan, New Ibajay, Villa Paz, and Mabini are four remote coastal barangays in the eastern part of the Municipality of El Nido, Palawan Island. Farming and fishing are the main sources of livelihood as tourists seldom venture into the villages. Roads are dusty during the dry season and muddy during the wet season. There are no restaurants and other tourist-related establishments, and the villages are not served by the provincial electric cooperative. Despite their distance from the more affluent, tourism-oriented and more developed town center of El Nido, the villages are displaying a keen appreciation of their place in the ecosystem they are part of.

Seeking to protect their coastal resource – 190 hectares of coral reef fronting the barangays as well as 974.63 hectares of mangrove forest – they asked for guardhouses, patrol bancas, marker buoys and signages, and communication equipment from Seacology. Cashew production equipment was likewise requested to support and strengthen their fledgling cashew industry, which provides a sustainable, ecologically friendly livelihood for the villagers.

On January 22 this year, the Seacology Expedition visited Barangay Sibaltan. Three patrol bancas were turned over in simple ceremonies, along with signages and communication equipment. The marker buoys were already there, just waiting for the anchoring blocks defining the MPAs to be set up. The cashew equipment were already in use, and their cashew products are selling briskly at the resorts of west El Nido. And, finally, despite a province-wide shortage of gravel and sand since December last year, the guardhouse in Barangay Sibaltan, with its own solar power, was finished and inaugurated last May 27. The only item left is the guardhouse still being built at Barangay New Ibajay, which they hope to finish by August.

The mangroves surrounding the four villages are thick, but the broad area on which it is located also provides cover for clandestine charcoal kilns. Foot patrols monitor the mangroves continuously, tearing down the illegal kilns whenever they are found. Lloyd Lumbania of the El Nido Foundation (ENF) says that through these efforts charcoal making within the mangroves is becoming more costly for the poachers. Hopefully they will soon reassess the profitability of their business and look for an altogether different source of income.

Poaching is also a problem at the Marine Protected Areas. Mrs. Carmelita Acosta, the feisty Kapitana of Barangay Sibaltan, along with the other barangay captains and the local fisherfolk association, organized the regular patrols of the MPAs. Several poachers from nearby Municipality of Linapacan had been apprehended since the MPAs were established last year, with parish priest Fr. Ed Parreno leading the citizens’ arrests.

The ENF reports that live coral cover in the MPAs range from 31-50%. The seagrass incidence of the area is greater than 50%, and serves as forage area for the endangered dugong. Dugong sightings have often been reported, and dugong feeding trails are frequently seen on the seagrass. Barangay Sibaltan in particular has also been identified as a nesting ground of sea turtles (Green, Hawksbill, and Olive Reedley turtles).

Unless the incidence of intrusion of poachers from neighboring municipalities is substantially reduced, maintaining the level of vigilance needed to effectively protect the mangroves and MPAs can become an costly endeavor for the villagers. Food and fuel expenses are just two considerations. A third and arguably most important is the time spent by those on patrol duty away from their regular sources of income. But these are sacrifices the villagers are willing to undertake to ensure that the their multi-use zones will remain productive. Also, plans are in the works to influence neighboring municipalities to establish their own MPAs and forest reserves as well. More MPAs and forest reserves in this corner of Palawan would mean more bountiful catches in the multi-use zones, and hopefully less reason for out-of-towners to resort to poaching in the no-take zones.

How much is a coral reef worth? For the villagers of Barangays Sibaltan, New Ibajay, Villa Paz, and Mabini, it is worth spending their time and, often, personal resources to vigilantly protect it. And that goes for their mangroves too.

A New Light at the Edge of Cabilao

2011-05-20T21:29:00.001+08:00

Early last year, the five barangays of Cabilao agreed to expand the two Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) of the island from a combined total of 21.8 hectares to 41.8 hectares in exchange for Seacology’s assistance in the renovation and conversion of their lighthouse into a Tourist Information Center. Once regarded as an abandoned and decaying ruin, by and large appreciated only as a marker for a nearby dive site, the Cabilao Lighthouse at Baluarte Point, Barangay Pantudlan is now an impressive structure at a picturesque lookout ready to house the best of products that the island can offer. What a difference a year makes.

Cabilao, apart from scuba diving, is also known for the colorful and intricate mats and bags that its womenfolk produce from the romblon plant. The weeklong process starts from the harvest and removal of the thorny midribs and blades. Leaves are then cut into long strips, hung until dry, softened, dyed, and woven. It is a laborious craft passed from one generation to the next. The home-based industry complements what their husbands get from farming or fishing. To improve traction on the market, the womenfolk organized themselves and formed the Cabilao Romblon Weavers Network or CROWN, making quality control and collective transaction possible. But despite these strides in the earning capacity of their households, Barangays Talisay, Cambaquiz, Cabacungan, Looc and Pantudlan have longed for a strategically placed structure where their weavers can showcase their wares. They saw the answer in the lighthouse ruin at the northwestern edge of the island.

The Cabilao Lighthouse is one of 55 lighthouses constructed during the Spanish occupation, this one classified as a faro de los proyectos. Sea vessels depended on lighthouses such as this to serve as stationary points for navigators, guides to port entrances and harbors, and warnings against shallow reefs. These reefs that surround Cabilao are also some of the country’s best preserved, attracting hordes of scuba divers annually – a largely untapped market for the island’s products.

Previous attempts to renovate the abandoned lighthouse were unwieldy. A coating of cement with lines drawn to mimic construction blocks not only made it look like a very new sham edifice much like those seen in theme parks, but it also unwittingly covered the mute history of the structure as suggested by the original material used by its builders. Even the Coast Guard, under whose jurisdiction lighthouses fall, thought it better to construct a new solar powered lighthouse nearby rather than upgrade the old structure. A proper renovation, one that will accent its Spanish colonial roots and island flavor, was needed. For this, the island’s villagers turned to Architect German Torero of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts. With further assistance from Seacology’s partners, Process Bohol and the Local Government of Loon, the makeover that began mid-July last year was completed towards the end of April this year. As with my first visit last year, Emmie Roslinda, Executive Director of Process Bohol, and Rey Monreal of the Loon Municipal Tourism Office were with me when I returned to the lighthouse last Wednesday, May 18.

The renovated building that greeted us prominently displayed its meter thick coral stone walls, now with a red tile roofing. Emmie tells me that the most difficult part of the renovation was the careful chipping away of the cement coating so that there would be very minimal damage to the original wall. With windows all around allowing the sea breeze in for ventilation, it was pretty cool within despite the high humidity and the 35˚C (95˚F) outside temperature. Beaming with pride borne by a sense of accomplishment, Barangay Pantudlan’s village chief, Kapitan Maximiliano Lapez, showed us around, from the spacious washroom and toilet, to the walls on which sheets of blue paper were taped to indicate the items being prepared to be displayed on it.

Luxuriously thick soft grass covering the promontory on which the lighthouse was built, combined with a view of the crystal blue sea so clear one can see the harlequin-patterned reef disappear into the deep, is enough to make anyone wax poetic. Or at least try anyway. Leaving poetry to real poets, the potential of the lighthouse as an income-generating venue for social events, such as weddings, is something the village should probably consider too.

Later some of the officers and members of the Fisherfolk Federation and CROWN joined us inside the lighthouse. In the local dialect, gratitude for Seacology, Process Bohol, and the Loon Municipal Government was expressed all around, though any credit should really be to the villagers themselves, for having the vision to preserve their natural resource and adapt to more sustainable modes of livelihood.

Reef guard duties for the two MPAs rotate among the members of the Fisherfolk Federation. Their president, Felix Molina, reports that the boundaries of the MPAs remain respected through their vigilance. However, while their operations are supposed to be supported by a portion of the user fee collected by the Protected Area Management Board from each tourist, they are having difficulties in securing the release of funds. In this, Emmie assured them of assistance in making the proper paper work to facilitate the process.

The romblon weavers have an altogether different issue. Orders for bags and mats keep coming, but CROWN president Leonila Mulato laments that one order for 3,500 bags was not met because they overestimated their production capability. Another lesson in supply and demand economics from Hardknocks University. But they have learned their lesson well and have begun a survey of output of each member in terms of number of mats and bags per week.

In taking the high road toward sustainable resource management, the villagers of Cabilao are encountering their share of problems, but these are neither insurmountable nor enough to weaken their resolve. No enterprise has ever been trouble free, and they are not expecting theirs to be exceptions.

On our way back to the main island of Bohol, we passed by the two MPAs that are the subject of the covenant between Seacology and the island’s five villages. White buoys marked the perimeter of the no-take zones. The water was so clear I could see the bluish green hard corals from the boat like fruits in a gelatin dessert despite depths of approximately 40 feet. I got to scuba dive on these MPAs last year, but not this time. Maybe I will again if and when I get to come back. If the villagers will let me, that is.

Palawan On Fire

2011-05-08T10:32:00.001+08:00

Often called the Philippines’ last ecological frontier, Palawan’s rich biodiversity is very impressive but also so very fragile. Yet for the month of April this year alone, in northern Palawan alone, the burning of swathes of mountain slopes was a near daily occurrence. Plumes of smoke could be seen from surrounding mountains signaling slash and burn activity. It was as if a concerted effort to destroy the island’s capacity to support life is being waged.

Travelling toward the eastern side of El Nido, we passed quite a few blackened areas, tell-tale signs of swidden farming or kaingin. Meriam Arzaga of the El Nido Foundation provides an interesting observation: that incidences of kaingin increase after a tag-hirap year – a year when crops fall short of what is needed. It is a method farmers seem to resort to, to augment harvests from their regular rice fields.

Swidden farming, or kaingin, is most obvious during the dry months when plots are prepared by burning vegetation therein, awaiting the first rains before planting. It has been in practice for generations in many parts of the world, benignly, even favorably, viewed in such literature as Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country (1948) and NVM Gonzales’ Children of the Ash-Covered Loam (1954). It is a method developed over the centuries as a means to reduce pests and facilitate the migration of biological control agents, such as insect parasites and predators, from the surrounding forests.

For the system to be sustainable (myopically ignoring its impact on global warming and ocean siltation, that is), a plot, after being used for a few years, must be allowed to fallow for about 20 years before beginning the cycle again. In this period, the soil is allowed to rest and regain the nutrients that only time left alone can provide. But when the number of people the land has to support becomes so great that the fallow periods are drastically reduced, productivity declines and the system becomes destructive, eventually working its way into new areas in the forest.

When a farmer begins cutting the fringes of public land in preparation for burning, Meriam explains, no one else but the farmer who torched it gets to plant on it when the rains come. It is a tradition of respect among kaingin farmers that has been observed for as long as anyone can remember.

But if kaingin activity is that plain to see and the culprits so easily identifiable, why isn’t anyone doing anything to apprehend the offenders? To be sure, unauthorized burning of forest and grazing land is illegal under the Revised Forestry Reform Code. Moreover, a 1998 presidential proclamation declared all of El Nido and Taytay, its adjacent municipality, as a Protected Area, putting it under the supervision of the Department of Environment and Natural Resources, with its own Protected Area Superintendent. Whether it is for lack of political will or simple bureaucratic laziness, solutions, for now at least, do not seem to be forthcoming from any government enforcement effort.

It isn’t that the farmers are not aware of the illegality of kaingin or its implications; often, they do it because they feel they need to. Apparently, if farmers have to choose between putting food on the table and obeying some law, the former will always win hands-down. The answer must lie in providing an alternative to kaingin.

At the eastern villages of Mabini, New Ibajay, Sibaltan and Villa Paz, Seacology provided cashew production equipment, among others, as an alternative livelihood enterprise in exchange for the establishment of a 470-acre marine protected area and 2,408-acre mangrove protected area. In this project, the villagers have committed themselves to actively protect these resources, with the municipal government and DENR relegated to a supporting role. Even the local parish priest, Fr. Ed Parino, has taken an active role in the enforcement of the protected areas, and has been instrumental in the apprehension of poachers from out-of-town. And as alternative livelihoods go, the brisk sales of their cashews at the upscale resorts of El Nido are certainly encouraging.

There is still much to appreciate in northern Palawan in terms of rich natural resources. But to preserve it, the focus has to shift from what the communities should not do, to what they can do instead.

A watershed of possibilities for Sitio Lubo

2010-09-15T05:45:00.001+08:00

Sitio Lubo is at a cusp. Economic activity is on the upswing, but infrastructure support is not keeping up. Farms are yielding sacks and sacks of corn and peanuts, but the far upland community is not being served by the power grid running through the Municipality of Lake Sebu, water is tapped from the many waterfalls through makeshift flexible hoses, and the roads are so bad that mud is 3 to 4 feet deep in many sections. On one hand, coal mining companies have offered to fix the roads, provide electricity and even scholarship programs, in exchange for rights to extract coal from the area. On the other, Seacology and its partners, Yamog, MISEREOR, and AMORE have offered to provide renewable energy through micro-hydro power in exchange for the community’s commitment to protect their watershed. The community chose renewable energy.

Barangay Ned is the biggest barangay in the Municipality of Lake Sebu. With a total area of 21,246.27 hectares, it is likely also the biggest barangay in Mindanao, if not the whole country, in terms of land area. Sitio Lubo, one of some 30 sitios in Barangay Ned, has a total area of 7,345 hectares, 2,500 hectares of which is part of the Kabulnan Watershed Forest Reserve. The climate is cool, a consequence of the 900 meter average elevation.

We arrived in the village on September 10, 2010 at about 3:30 pm after an hour and a half ride on a pick-up truck, which took us from the General Santos City airport to the Municipality of Sto. Nino, and another 4-hour ride on a motorcycle up the southern Tiruray Highlands after a quick early lunch. We were supposed to have met with the community leaders at about 5:00 pm, but the meeting was preempted by an unscheduled PTA assembly at the Lubo High School on Responsible Parenthood, precipitated by an incidence of teenage pregnancy. We had to reschedule the following day. Just as well. Riding tandem on a motorcycle as it sloshed for hours uphill through thick mud and loose rock took a lot more from me than I expected. I was tired.

Sitio Lubo residents generally rely on kerosene for lighting and fuel wood for cooking. A few households lease solar power home systems from a cooperative for P220 a month – pretty steep considering one unit can only power 3-4 lightbulbs per night. Still fewer households have small 3-kilowatt gas-fed generators, which provide enough power for several lights, a television set, and a satellite dish antenna. Gil Bopas, who graciously fed us and put us up for the night, is one of the latter.

Owners of a corn farm, corn mill and a sari-sari store, Gil Bopas and his wife Josephine, who teaches at the Lubo High School, are one of the more affluent members of the community. But they too are looking forward to the promise of clean energy from the micro-hydro because it would mean 24-hour electricity for their appliances without having to buy fuel all the way from municipal centers like Sto. Nino. There are simply no gas stations in these mountains.

Lubo High School itself owes much of its facilities from the local PTA. Its 12 computers were provided by the PTA, and the generator that powers them was also solicited from the PTA. Internet connection and fuel for the generator? Monthly PTA dues. In a sense, the community seems to have been left to fend for themselves, but it also seems that they are doing a pretty decent job at coping as well.

Double-differential 4x4 10-wheeler trucks are the economic lifeblood of the village. These and the nimble motorcycles are the only vehicles that can traverse the miry roads. Maybe a monster truck will do too, except I didn’t see any. Soap, sugar, fossil-based fuels, and other necessities are cargo going up. Sacks of corn, peanuts, and fertilizer from huge compost heaps are cargo going down. From the T’boli sub-community, coffee and fruits like marang and durian occasionally make it to the lowland markets as well.

Meeting over brews of local coffee the following morning, the community leaders reaffirmed their commitment to protect their watershed as they expressed their gratitude to Seacology and partners for the micro-hydro project. A cooperative will be set up to manage and maintain the micro-hydro, meters will be installed in houses, and revenues based on consumption will be collected.

Also discussed were the strategies the coal mining companies were employing to gain access to mining rights, as well as the steps the community is taking, with the help of local Christian churches, to neutralize these. Anti-mining posters around town, some improvised, some church-provided, give a clue to their sentiments.

The micro-hydro power station will be constructed nearby at the point where the Kalulo and Kabusong creeks meet, some 300 meters below the main village. But this is too far for electricity to reach the T’boli sub-community some 6 kilometers further up the mountains. For a win-win solution, it was agreed that the cooperative will set aside a fixed amount from revenues for the benefit of the T’bolis. This may then be used to construct and maintain a ram pump or 3-5 kilowatt pico hydro for the T’boli, depending on their preference. The T’boli will also have representation on the cooperative.

After a hearty breakfast at the Bopas’ home, we went off on motorcycles again for the 1-hour trip to the T’boli sub-community. Slopes devoted to corn gave way to coffee plantations leased by a big company, before reaching the edge of the forest where we were welcomed into the main house of the T’boli.

Datu Victor Danyang is the leader of the T’boli in Sitio Lubo, and is also the Chair of the T'boli Manobo Sdaf Claim Organization or TAMASCO. He spoke of the T’boli’s commitment to the protection of their watershed as something second-nature to them, that they shouldn’t even be asked about it in the first place. He spoke against the coal mining companies and exhorted those who were listening to unite in the struggle against any mining in their ancestral domain. He spoke with such intensity and conviction, with a no-nonsense grin blood red from betel nut chewing, that it was impossible not to be inspired by his words. And maybe a little frightened. I thought anyone would be an idiot to contradict him then and there.

When my turn came to speak, I thanked them for their firm commitment to protect their watershed, and that it is their commitment precisely that is making the funds for the micro-hydro possible. Fear has a way of making diplomats of us all. kidding. But the meeting left no doubt in my mind that the T’boli will hold up to their part of the bargain.

T’boli coffee has a smoky flavor and went very well with the boiled taro root served during the meeting. As talk turned to the needs of the T’boli, TAMASCO leader Abelardo Wali lamented the lack of a water distribution system in the sub-community. It turns out that a ram pump was installed in the area before, but it was not well constructed. It was generally agreed that the first funds from the micro-hydro revenue would be used to rehabilitate the ram pump.

Lubo is a T’boli word meaning disappearing water. Apparently, Sitio Lubo sits on top of a network of limestone caves where water on higher elevations can suddenly divert to without warning. The non-functioning ram pump was designed with a particular water source in mind, when the water abruptly flowed underground as construction was finished.

Around the main house the T’bolis gathered wildlings from which they would start the nursery with. Sustainable agriculture and forestry will occur just beyond the forest. The fruit trees they intend to plant are durian, mangosteen, rambutan and marang – highly marketable fruits that can be found to some degree within the watershed.

The planting of fruit trees brings with it the promise of a continuation of the T’boli’s gathering ways. It will also serve as hunting ground for deer and wild boar that stray outside the forest.

Later a T’boli metalworker showed me how they make their tools and trinkets using bamboo blowers with feather-lined pistons. It was also where the communal lunch was singed before being stewed.

We left just after lunch for the long way back to General Santos City where I will catch my flight back to Manila the following day. This Thursday, September 16, there will be a groundbreaking ceremony at the micro-hydro project site to mark the start of construction – really the start of an endless slew of possibilities for Sitio Lubo.

It takes the community to protect Cabilao

2010-03-28T10:27:00.000+08:00

Here’s a trick question: What does it take for 5 villages to sustainably coexist with an island’s ecosystem? Answer: the mindset that they are an intrinsic part of the ecosystem.

Human activity inside a complex and diverse island environment is often difficult to balance against what the rest of the organisms within require to thrive. According to the United Nations Environment Program (UNEP), the most diverse region of the world for coral reefs is centered on the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia and Papua New Guinea, with between 500 and 600 species of coral in each of these countries. Unfortunately these are also some of the most threatened coral reefs in the world. The UNEP publication World Atlas of Coral Reefs (2001), rang the alarm bells when it reported that 97 percent of reefs in the Philippines are under threat from destructive fishing techniques, including blast fishing, cyanide poisoning, overfishing, or from deforestation and urbanization that result in harmful sediment spilling into the sea. Of the estimated 27,000 square kilometers of coral reef, only 5% remain in “excellent condition” (Reef Check, as quoted in previous link). Cabilao Island’s reefs seem to belong to the 5%.

Cabilao Island in Bohol Province is a prime scuba diving destination, boasting of giant fan and table corals, wall dives pockmarked with dark and foreboding crevices, schools and schools of reef fishes, and occasional sightings of thresher sharks and hammerheads. Even the resort operators in nearby Cebu Island bring their diver-guests here, despite the 2-hour travel time by boat.

Sport scuba diving and the tourists the industry brings is a major source of income for the communities. Three resorts in the island cater to the tourists, and the communities support the resorts with manpower, as well as excess fish and vegetables they manage to catch or harvest.

In 2001, Cabilao’s villages (Talisay, Cambaquiz, Cabacungan, Looc and Pantudlan) established two Marine Protected Areas (MPAs), one in Barangay Pantudlan (10 hectares) and another in Barangay Cabacungan (11.8 hectares) to address the growing need to ensure the protection of their reefs. At about this time, many dive destinations in other areas, notably the Jessie Beazley and Bastera Reefs in the Sulu Sea, have become so damaged by destructive fishing methods that many dive tour operators stopped offering them as destinations. Having one of the most intact reefs in the country firmly positioned Cabilao as a must-see diving destination.

Early this year, the island’s villagers, through PROCESS Bohol (our NGO partner), asked Seacology for assistance in refurbishing a long abandoned Spanish-era lighthouse on the northwestern tip of the island. The intention is to convert it into a Tourist Information Center that will promote inland tourism and showcase their handcrafted mats and bags. In exchange, they agreed to extend the existing MPAs by 10 hectares more each, and to actively protect these for at least 20 years.

I visited the project site last March 26 and 27, 2010. Emmie Roslinda, PROCESS Bohol’s Executive Director, and Rey Monreal of the Municipal Government, were my patient and solicitous companions and guides.

Scuba diving on the MPAs was first on the agenda. No mean feat, considering strictly no activity whatsoever is allowed within. I am told that in the early years of the MPAs, a reef guard himself was found fishing in the Cabacungan MPA. He was severely reprimanded and penalized with such a hefty fine that no one else gave a thought to violating the MPAs since. My dive buddy was Alain, a divemaster and instructor of the Polaris Beach and Dive Resort.

If you will imagine two doors of average dimension side by side underwater, that would be the approximate size of the biggest fan coral that greeted us at the Cabacungan MPA. Schools of batfish, surgeonfish, rabbitfish, purple antheas, and other reef fishes abound. Over at the Pantudlan MPA, huge table corals, some about 3 meters across, cover the edges just before the drop-off. We saw reef fishes similar to those of Cabacungan, as well as a few barracudas. A testament to the integrity of the MPAs, it was Alain’s first time to dive the MPAs too, and he was very grateful for the opportunity.

Diving and traditional fishing are restricted to areas outside the MPAs, and the spillover marine life seems sufficient for the needs of the dive industry and fisherfolk. But the villagers do not rely solely on what the ocean provides. An imaginative, environment-friendly farming method they fondly call “rock farming” has, well, gained ground in the island. Onions, casava, rice and corn are grown from small pockets of fertile soil that have accumulated on rocky surfaces. Their onions, the farmers swear, are the biggest and sweetest anywhere. In fact, merchants from mainland Bohol would travel to Cabilao to snap up the onions as soon as these are harvested, and very few, if any, remain for export outside of the province.

Also, Cabilao is known for the beautiful mats and bags that its residents, mostly women, weave from the ubiquitous romblon plant (Pandanus sp.) of the island. The Cabilao Romblon Weavers Network (CROWN) is the island’s association of weavers, with its own president, board of directors, and quality control group. Meeting them on Day 2 is one of the highlights of the trip, as I came to observe firsthand how the womenfolk discuss the orders in the pipeline (500 just met, 100 just placed), their plans to procure a high-speed sewing machine (for the bag zippers) from their earnings, and their ideas for the interior layout of the soon to be converted lighthouse. Their optimism, resourcefulness and industry, I think, is worth showcasing as well.

There were recent attempts to renovate the lighthouse, but these were clumsy at best. Architect German Torero of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA), who will assist in the restoration and preservation efforts, explained to me that the newly added thin layer of cement on the walls will have to be taken off to expose the Spanish-era coral stones used in the original construction.

Exploring inland, I was taken to a lagoon in Barangay Looc where an edible species of seaweed locally known as lato (Caulerpa sp.) grows in abundance. Red shrimp and clams are also harvested during full moons in a nearby shallow cavern.

In Barangay Pantudlan, they have a majestic lake frequented by migratory birds. Locals do not venture into the lake for fear of being sucked in by quicksands. As a story Emmie told goes, a carabao once inadvertently wandered into the lake and was not seen again. The local fisherfolk constructed viewing decks made from discarded wooden cable spools of a telecommunication company – taking recycling to a whole new level, literally.

From the looks of it, Cabilao can stand as a model for community-based sustainable resource management, and I hope to visit again the praiseworthy villagers that make this possible as soon as the lighthouse is finished.

Palaui: An island bastion against the changing climate

2009-11-30T21:44:00.000+08:00

Last year, when Seacology agreed to fund the rehabilitation of the Community Center (Bayanihan Hall) of Palaui Island, Cagayan Province in exchange for the island villagers’ commitment to protect their 2,172.5 hectares of watershed forest, not much thought was given to the typhoons that regularly hit this tiny green dot on the map once or twice every year. After all, the islanders are no strangers to typhoons (the Philippines is hit by an average of 20 typhoons per year), and they have gone through some of the worst. But two particular typhoons this year were different.

No less than five typhoons came within a hundred kilometers of the island this season. Three followed the usual pattern of coming from the southeast and proceeding either north, northeast or northwest. Two however made paths that made it seem like they had a mind of their own.

First was Typhoon Isang on the second week of July with winds of up to 120 km per hour. At its heels came Typhoon Jolina on the first week of August, which while weaker at 75 km per hour almost made a direct hit. In the mainland Jolina left 8 fatalities. Typhoon Nando came on the second week of September also with 75 km per hour, triggering landslides, road closures and evacuations in nearby Kalinga Province.

Then came the unusual typhoons. Category 4 Super Typhoon Pepeng came straight from the southeast and headed directly for Palaui. It went past Cagayan Province, then went back and made landfall again, going back and forth during the first two weeks of October for a total of three landfalls before finally heading out towards Hainan Island, China.

On the third and fourth week of October, Category 4 Super Typhoon Ramil tracked like it was going past the Philippines, going east northeast of Palaui a little bit. Then it unexpectedly veered straight for the island like a dive bomber, and just as suddenly, it pulled up before actually making landfall and headed north.

All this time, we in Manila were a bit concerned about how the typhoons affected the Community Center being constructed in the island. The Advocate of Philippine Fare Trade (APFTI), Seacology’s partner in this project, had little to report as communication with the islanders was spotty. Travel was made extremely difficult too, as four bridges to Cagayan Province were damaged in Pepeng’s aftermath.

So when APFTI consultants Chen and Louie Mencias informed me that the Palaui Community Center is finished and invited me for a visit at the end of November, I jumped at the offer.

We left Manila by bus, 7:00 pm on November 27, 2009, and arrived at the Sta. Ana Pier about 10:00 am the following day. A 20 minute boat ride brought us to the house of Mang Diony, in whose backyard we made camp during our visit last year.

According to Mang Diony, they were left relatively unscathed by the typhoons. Problems in the construction of the Community Center were more on the difficulties encountered ferrying the construction materials to the island than anything else. The thick foliage of the primary and secondary growth forest kept the winds from doing any damage, even as much of the mainland was reeling from the succession of typhoons.

Palaui is legally protected under the National Integrated Protected Area System Act (passed by Congress in 1992), and like many of the areas defined in the NIPAS Act, little or no community consultation was done, resulting in little or no community support. The original structure was built by the Department of Natural Resource and Environment in late 1993, but it was never maintained over the years. Illegal logging and “slash and burn" farming occasionally occurred due to lack of agricultural land, decreasing productivity of the soil and the need to produce food crops for the local population.

We proceeded to the Community Center where we were met by Barangay Captain Edgar Ugale. The building we saw is a far cry from the rundown shack we saw last year. There is a kitchen, a serving area, two toilet enclosures, a shower area, a stockroom where the solar powered batteries are kept, a guest room, and a wide activity center. The anahaw roofing keeps temperatures cool even at noon. The water tank outside, fed by a hand pumped deep well, keeps water flowing throughout the building. A solar panel jutting out of the roof provides clean and renewable electricity.

Simple ceremonies, where the villagers reaffirmed their commitment to protect their watershed for 20 years, marked the turnover of the Community Center to the care of the community. Alternative livelihood training programs will be conducted in the center, with the hoped effect of easing economic pressure off the watershed. It will also serve as a place where the villagers may gather and organize themselves.

As a tourist destination, Palaui has much to offer. In the island are three beautiful waterfalls, several potential nature trails for flora and fauna enthusiasts, and numerous rest points with scenic views. Narra and other high value hardwood trees are abundant, as are birds and butterflies not often seen anymore in mainland Luzon. There is no electricity, and lodging is limited to camping or home-stay (renting a room from a local). But maybe it is better this way as too many tourists and tourism-related establishments may impose too heavy a tax on the fragile ecosystem.

After lunch with the community, we headed out for one of the waterfalls. The one-hour hike wasn’t too bad, even if we did wade through a few creeks, cross a rickety two-plank hanging bridge, and stare down a couple of barking dogs along the way. My shirt was wet with sweat by the time we got there, but I think anyone would feel as reinvigorated as I did after seeing all that clear water cascading down the steep slope.

The following day, we went to the northern tip of Palaui – Cape Engaño, where the last lighthouse built by the Spaniards in the Philippines is located.

According to the lighthouse keeper, the Americans built the perimeter wall of the lighthouse and the Japanese used it as a garrison during World War II. And it is also supposed to be haunted by the ghosts of the Japanese troops that died defending it at the end of the war. He said he would sometimes wake up to the sound of marching boots just before dawn, though nothing or no one was ostensibly making it.

As spooky as the lighthouse keeper’s stories may be, one cannot help but be enchanted just by the panoramic view from the lighthouse. From the beaches of the east and west shores start the grasslands, and from thence the edges of the forest. Where we were, we witnessed the huge waves crashing on the left side in contrast with the calm sea on the right. It is as good a metaphor as any of the island defending against the wildly changing weather patterns.

Food for thought as we left the island for the overnight bus trip back to Manila.

Water can flow higher than its source

2009-10-18T17:20:00.000+08:00

Descending into the gully, we heard the faint clanging of metal against metal, like there was a fairy blacksmith amidst the ferns and lichen hammering on a horseshoe somewhere down there. There was no fairy, of course, but the machine we saw is nearly as magical – it pumps 10 liters of water per minute up a steep 89-meter cliff without electricity. It is called a hydraulic ram pump system.

How we came to be here needs a bit of history to explain.

In 1992, the Philippine Government enacted the National Integrated Protected Areas System Act, which designated "biologically important public lands that are habitats of rare and endangered species". Unfortunately, very little community consultation occurred in the process, if at all, so consequently there is scant grassroots support for the protected areas.

One of the areas so designated is Northern Negros Island, Western Visayas Region, and Murcia is one of the municipalities located within both the North Negros Forest Reserve and Mt. Kanlaon Natural Park. Closed-canopy forests in these areas serve as an important part of the island’s watershed. They are also very important habitats for several threatened species; such as the Negros Bleeding Heart Pigeon, the Blue-crowned Racquet-tailed Parrot, Blue-naped Parrot, the spotted Wood-kingfisher, the White-Winged Cuckoo Shrike, the Flame-templed Babbler, among others; and two critically threatened hornbills: Tarictic Hornbill and the Visayan Writhed or Walden’s Hornbill. Likewise, it has all the six Negros Island species of large mammals, two of which are endangered: the Philippine Spotted Deer and the Visayan Warty Pig. Moreover, timber species like Red and White Lauan, Nato, Bagtikan, Tangele, Almon, Almaciga, Udling among others are abundant in the area. Illegal logging, backyard charcoal production, and indiscriminate hunting persist as threats to the "protected area."

In 2007, AID Foundation asked Seacology to help them build ram pump systems for 3 villages (barangays) within the North Negros Forest Reserve and Mt. Kanlaon Natural Park. In return, the villages, i.e. Barangays Canlandog, Sta. Cruz and Buenavista, all in the Municipality of Murcia, will commit themselves to protecting 2,000 hectares of watershed forest area adjacent to their villages for at least 30 years.

The installation of the ram pumps and water distribution system was completed last July, and now, October 17, 2009, I am visiting the sites to see how these are. With me is Auke Idzenga of AID Foundation. Auke is a Dutch immigrant who has been a resident of Negros since the late 1980s, and he speaks the Negros Island dialect fluently. He, along with 3 Filipinos, set up AID Foundation in 1992 to help the impoverished communities of Negros Island. In most of my conversations with community members, he was my interpreter.

The most extensive distribution network is at the village of Calandog, where the lines laid out total about 11 kilometers. This is also the first village to have had their ram pumps installed. So far, the distribution in Sta. Cruz village is limited to Sitio Lacson, while in Buenavista village the water reaches Sitios Bug-as and Igkalay.

The ram pumps need very little maintenance. Just a little cleaning once a week or so, and some parts have to be inspected every 6 months to check if they need to be replaced. Right now, each house is paying a fixed amount of Php20 (about 45 US cents) per month to draw water from the reservoir. The money goes to the system’s maintenance.

Paterno Ledesma, chairman of the Purok Lacson Water Consumers Association, has a novel way of collecting payment, which is incorporated in one of the association’s clauses. Valves from the reservoir service a certain group of households. Should a group member forget to pay by the due date, Paterno shuts off the valve servicing that group until everyone pays. So far, he has had to shut off a valve 3 times in the past, and only for one day at most.

At each of the communities benefitting from the ram pumps, we were greeted with food painstakingly prepared by the grateful residents. It wasn’t much really. Different preparations of suman (sweetened rice wrapped in leaves), boiled sweet potatoes, macaroni salad, and pots of native coffee at every stop. But I felt like we were being served a costly feast, coming from families living on less than fifty pesos (about a dollar) a day.

Over and over one woman spoke to me in their dialect of how, before the ram pumps were installed, a family member, sometimes a son or daughter, had to spend hours to go down all the way to the water source every day to fill up a few containers and climb back up. Now, they have more time to do other things. The children have more time to devote to their studies, the men can spend more time at extra income-augmenting activities such as hog raising, and the women can do more house chores.

And everyone can bathe regularly. Not a joke. I’ve been told that incidences of skin diseases went down dramatically in Calandog, which had their ram pumps in place since mid last year.

The villages have set up their own Forest Guards who patrol the watershed regularly, mindful of its significance to the accessible water they now enjoy. About 3,000 seedlings (assorted indigenous species) were planted around the ram pump sites, and the no-take zone is being enforced.

For the 217 households presently being served by the ram pumps, finding time to work for the future suddenly seems possible.

Fine-tuning the ram pump.

There is Power at the Top

2009-08-16T08:04:00.000+08:00

And it is clean and renewable.

Sitio Malumpine of Barangay Old Bulatukan is composed of about 65 Manobo households. It is one of the isolated upland communities of Mt. Apo, and is among the 16 barangays of Malasila, North Cotabato. Located some 25 kilometers from Kidapawan City, North Cotabato, the community is composed of Manobos, and their barangay is within the recently recognized 3,500 hectare ancestral land of the Manobo Tribe.

The community is off-grid, and when I visited them last year, the residents relied on kerosene lamps for lighting and firewood for cooking. The province's electric cooperative, the Cotabato Electric Cooperative (COTELCO) will not be able to extend the grid to this community for the next 10 years at least, due to budget limitations.

In exchange for funding from Seacology to build a micro-hydro power station and a tree nursery, the Manobo community pledged to protect 300.998 hectares of forest land within their ancestral domain for 30 years. Seacology’s partner in the project, Yamog Renewable Energy Development Group Inc provided the technical expertise and sourced the needed materials and counterpart funding.

I first visited the small community of Manobos living on the slopes of Mt. Apo in July 2008. Datu Enoch Gascon (the tribe’s chief), Nonoy Cacayan (Yamog), and Ben Baril (Yamog) took me on a 4-hour hike up the mountain until we got to where the micro-hydro power station was to be built. Leeches and slippery slopes dogged me during the hike, and I realized then how ill-prepared, attire-wise, I was for the hike. Ditching the shorts and rubber shoes for cargo pants and hiking boots this time around, I hoped to manage the hike better.

It took us only two hours to get to the site yesterday, August 15, 2009. The Municipal Government of Malasila came through with its promise to construct a road on the periphery of the watershed where the materials for the project may be carried. We hiked through a steep 2-kilometer road that I reckon can be traversed only by bulldozers, donkeys, and some pretty determined mountain climbers like us. The road was meant to run for at least four kilometers, until the earth on a cliff was determined too soft for the bulldozer to risk going any further. But it was enough to halve the journey time, and I got through still pretty dry thankfully.

Last year, I was asked “What tribe are you from?” I was taken aback, but I answered “Tagalog” after a second or two. Tagalog is my ethnic group, though I’ve never really thought of it that way. Growing up in an urban area has a way of relegating words like ethnicity and tribe to Tarzan or John Wayne movies. This pointed query from Datu Enoch is, to me, an eloquent window to their perception of the world.

The people from this Manobo community, I learned, spoke three dialects: their own Manobo dialect, which they use when talking to each other; Visaya, which they use when with the lowlanders; and Tagalog when they talk to me.

The province of North Cotabato is one of the watershed frontiers of Mindanao, a portion of it being under the Mt. Apo National Park. The whole of Mt. Apo, the tallest mountain in the Philippines, is already a protected area by virtue of a 1936 edict, but very little enforcement had been done. It has one of the highest land-based biological diversity per unit area in the Philippines, and is home to many threatened and endangered species.

Electricity, 10 kilowatts of it 24 hours a day from the micro-hydro power station, has given these Manobos a renewed respect for their watershed. Tribe elder Charlie Ili, who served us a humble meal of eel soup and rice spoke animatedly of the brighter prospects ahead – better value for their coffee crop processed from an electro-mechanized coffee bean husker and drier, new income from a potential base camp for tourist-hikers to the peak of Mt. Apo, their children’s exposure to modern, erstwhile unthinkable technologies like computers, and many more.

With this Manobo community deriving clean and renewable energy from their watershed, there is little doubt that, at least in the area of Mt. Apo where they hold sway, the forest and everything in it will remain pristine for their next generation.

So many species in a fragile environment

2009-06-15T20:36:00.001+08:00

Last Friday, June 12, the El Nido Foundation formally launched “Reef Fishes of El Nido”, a book resulting from the extensive study done by Dr. Gerry Allen and Dr. Mark Erdmann. It is a result of countless dives, each averaging over an hour, in 2007. We were lucky to have been invited. Dr. Erdmann was not able to make it, but Dr. Allen was. He signed books, including the one my daughter bought.

I first set foot in El Nido on January 23, 1989. In that year alone I tallied 594 dives within Bacquit Bay over 287 days, faithfully logging each dive in my log book, which I still keep. You see, I worked there as a divemaster and dive instructor for several years. The diving was great in those days.

Once, two other divers and I saw a huge dorsal fin sticking out of the water near our boat about two kilometers off Popolcan Island. We donned our masks, fins and snorkels and jumped in the water, and there I saw my first whale shark. I saw my second whale shark while scuba diving at Kulasa Point, between Matinloc and Inambuyod Islands. Between January and April of each year, we would see manta rays almost on every dive. There were turtles, sharks, and barracudas. There were also the seldom seen saddleback clownfishes, leafy sea dragons, and other smaller and rarer creatures. Foot-long groupers and snappers were ordinary for any given dive.

Coral was good too, but not as colorful as the ones in Anilao, Batangas. Bacquit Bay does not have the strong currents of Anilao, and currents bring food to the coral, but enough nutrients were circulating so that the reefs in the bay were respectably varied. Even then, there were signs of blast fishing in some of the dive sites. And when diving activities waned in the mid-nineties, I’ve been told that blast fishing became more rampant, and the live fish trade flourished.

Then came the kicker: the 1998 El Niño, when ocean temperatures rose by several degrees. An estimated 16% of the world’s coral died, and the reefs of El Nido were not exempt. A great many number of corals turned luminous green and blue, then white, and finally sections upon sections of the reefs died.

When several areas in the bay were declared Marine Protected Areas, the marine life in those areas began to bounce back. In the Tres Marias site particularly, where Seacology funded the installation of ceramic reef modules, the results are astounding. Where there was coral rubble a scant 3 years ago, there is now a thriving coral colony on each of the ceramic modules. Groupers, snappers, wrasses, and other reef fishes have returned in large numbers.

So far, Drs. Gerry Allen and Mark Erdmann have documented 813 species of fish in El Nido. Dr. Allen says that the next book will be written by someone from El Nido who will be a Marine Biology Scholar of the Gerry Allen Scholarship Program (managed by the El Nido Foundation). Dr. Allen set the scholarship up just for the people of El Nido, and it will be funded from the proceeds of the book.

Now that is one for the books.

A Village Lights Up with Clean Energy

2009-06-06T09:00:00.001+08:00

A secluded village in Northern Palawan Island is off-grid, that is, it is too remote to be served by the Palawan Electric Company (PALECO). But Barangay Bagong Bayan in Roxas, Palawan has within its jurisdiction, over 825 hectares of rainforest –- its watershed. The abundant water from this feeds the beautiful Alibanua Falls, which has always been a source of pride for the villagers.

An attempt was made to harness the water for micro-hydro power, but specifications were faulty and the equipment brought there never worked.

My work as Seacology’s Field Representative for the Philippines brought them to our attention. In exchange for preserving and protecting their watershed in perpetuity, Seacology agreed to finance the rehabilitation of the micro-hydro power generator. SIBAT, one of our NGO partners, undertook the rehabilitation.

Early May 2009, I was told that the rehabilitation has been completed. So on May 29, 2009, Jove Benosa of SIBAT and I traveled to the site to see for ourselves the micro hydro power at work.

Our 8 am flight was delayed for 4 and half hours, and that in itself is a subject for another blog if I get the impetus for it. Suffice to say that we eventually touched down in Puerto Princesa at 1:30 pm. It’s the longest one hour flight I’ve ever taken.

The driver of the rented pick-up was waiting for us. Waiting for longer than anyone should, as we were supposed to have arrived 9 am. I should have brought a medal with me to pin on him.

It was a 2 hour drive to Roxas town proper, and another 2 hours to Barangay Bagong Bayan. By the time we got there, it was nearly 5:30 pm. But all the inconveniences we have encountered thus far was dispelled by the happy faces that met us. So infectious was their disposition that I think we never quite stopped grinning the whole time we were there.

The first question I was asked was Nasaan si Ma’m Karen? (Where is Ma’m Karen?). They were referring to Seacology’s Senior Program Officer Karen Peterson who was with us when we came to visit last June 2008. A little disappointment was evident when I told them she couldn’t come this time, but not enough to dampen their spirits. After all, they’ve got electricity now!

Some village leaders hopped on our vehicle and rode with us a kilometer or so further until the road ended. We stopped a few hundred meters from the power station and had to trek the rest of the way, through muddy walkways, a shaky two-plank foot bridge, a river, and a steep path. We were shown how the micro-hydro station worked, as well as Alibanua Falls where plenty of water still flowed despite some being diverted to the micro-hydro power generator.

Back at the Barangay Hall, the grateful villagers served young coconut, crab steamed in coconut milk, and red rice. After the meal, I walked around the village and saw several youngsters playing basketball even at dusk. That, to me, spelled the opening of new opportunities for the village.