An mga Bantay han Dagat (The Wardens of the Sea)

By Sophia Kaye Fernandez

The faces, smiles, and laughter of the fisherfolk in Eastern Samar are already familiar. When they see me, they often smile and greet me with a “ma’am” at the end of their sentences, which makes me feel older than I actually am. I grew up in an area where farming is the more common livelihood, so it has always fascinated me to see, up close, the lives of people whose livelihoods depend on the sea.

It was there that I began to appreciate how beautiful the sunset can be and how strong the backs of the bantay-dagat are.

They have many stories and experiences to share, but they always return to one central cause: they are all doing this for the next generation.

It’s a simple reason, but at a time when self-interest is prioritized, a selfless sacrifice for a generation that may never recognize their efforts is rare to witness.

Kuya Katalino, the Vice President of the Samahan ng Bantay Dagat ng SUNGOBA nga Nagkakaurusa (SBDSAN) in Baras, Guiuan, is one of the fisherfolk advocating for this cause. He believes that the greatest challenge of being a bantay-dagat is not the lack of supplies and support, but the threats associated with their work.

Although the work they do is meant to protect the sea and its resources, not everyone understands the cause, including some of their fellow fishermen.

Kuya Edgar knows this all too well: He was one of the first members of the group when it was formed, at a time when it was not known to the community and was purely voluntary. However, he was eventually forced to stop when his parents asked him to, citing concerns about the danger of his work. By then, he had also been receiving death threats.

Eventually, Kuya Edgar returned to the group, not because the sea had become safer or that they now had more supplies. He came back because he wanted to protect the fish in their waters for future generations. It has been seven years since then.

SBDSAN originated as the Bantay Dagat Calicoan Fleet. It is an active community organization in Eastern Samar that advocates for the protection of the seas from illegal fishing and other human activities that harm marine resources. This was formed from three separate organizations following the devastation caused by Typhoon Haiyan.

Currently, SBDSAN is at the forefront of efforts to protect the waters around Guiuan, while also exploring ways to conserve their local mangroves through ecotourism initiatives.

Like Kuya Katalino and Kuya Edgar, the bantay-dagat of Seguinon in Salcedo also plays a major role in their own community.

For Ate Rowena,  Secretary of the Seguinon Fisherfolks Association, the group’s goal is simple: to protect their seas and mangroves so that there will still be something left for future generations.

Like Guiuan, Seguinon’s biggest challenge has been the continuous destruction of mangroves, which are being cut down for personal use.

As these wardens sail towards the sea every day, they carry with them this selfless purpose. However, a question lingered in my mind as I listened to their stories:

What value is in such sacrifice?

These individuals are neither wealthy nor powerful; they are simple fisherfolk whose lives depend on the sea and its resources. They have families waiting for them at home and children whose dreams they strive to support. 

Yet, despite these, they still choose to guard the sea.

Now, I understand that they see this differently.

They likely understand that if they abandon the sea, the fish will disappear, the mangroves will continue to be destroyed, and the marine life they depend on will eventually suffer. And they probably know that this loss will not only affect us, but also impact future generations.

So the next time I gaze upon the sunset in Eastern Samar, I will probably still admire the view. 

But beyond the horizon, as the sun slips into the night, I will also remember the silhouettes of those figures who face the sea every day, the strong backs of the people who choose to protect it so that life beneath it will continue to flourish, may it be today and in the tomorrows yet to come.