MAASIM, Sarangani (MindaNews / 21 June 2026) — For nearly four decades, the sea has been both a provider and a teacher for Ramon Mondejar. The veteran fisherman arrived in Barangay Tinoto in 1987, when the coastal village was sparsely populated and Sarangani Bay teemed with fish. Back then, fishermen rarely had to venture far from shore, with thriving coral reefs, mangroves, and abundant marine life sustaining generations of fishing families.
Today, the picture is starkly different. “Kung ibase nako sukad nagsugod ko’g panagat sa 1987 hangtod karon, murag 20 porsyento nalang ang nahabilin nga isda sa Sarangani,” said the 50-year-old Mondejar, estimating only a fifth of the fish population remains. His observation comes from decades of experience—juggling jobs as a construction worker, porter, habal-habal driver, and barber—yet always returning to fishing. “Walay kapoy-kapoy sir kay kinahanglan man nimo mabuhi. Kung kapuyon ka, wala kay paadtuan.”
His wife, Rowena, arrived in 2008 as a fish trader and shell collector. Together, they raised three professionals—a rarity in a sector where many struggle. Their dedication earned them the Bayaning Mangingisda Award, and their Asnalang-6 Fisherfolks Association was recognized at the 2025 Sarangan Awards. The group engages in mangrove planting, coastal cleanups, and fish cage operations, harvesting 1,717 kg of milkfish worth ₱223,000 earlier this year. Yet despite these successes, the Mondejars see a crisis unfolding.
Interviews reveal how climate change, rising costs, and coastal development threaten Maasim’s 6,621 registered fisherfolk. PSA data shows Sarangani’s fish production plummeted from 28,820 metric tons (2024) to 7,295 (2025), with fishermen citing erratic weather, stronger currents, and damaged payao (fish aggregating devices). Some now sail as far as Davao Oriental for catch. Coral reefs, once vibrant, have bleached or vanished—“sa TikTok nalang makita karon.”
Fuel costs have doubled to ₱1,000 per trip, yet only one in four trips turns a profit. Younger fishermen like Rowel Dadios and Jenmar Hundanie, who lack association support, feel excluded from government aid despite paying permits. “Ang mga association nanubra na ilang mga pukot, pasol… samtang kami wala gyud.” Many have shifted to construction, factory work, or even illegal trade.
Coastal development exacerbates pressures. Satellite imagery shows building footprints surging 375% since 2006. Population growth brings wastewater, plastic pollution, and tourism conflicts—resorts’ floating barriers block traditional docking sites, sparking tensions. While Maasim is part of the Sarangani Bay Protected Seascape, enforcement gaps persist. Requests for PAMB data went unanswered, and illegal fishing (lagtang, fine-mesh nets) continues amid limited patrol resources.
Fishermen seek solutions—tourism ventures, better enforcement, and tech upgrades—but the future remains uncertain. As climate change reshapes the sea, costs rise, and shores transform, the question lingers: Will fishing survive for the next generation? (Jorge Golle / The Mindanao Sentinel, for MindaNews)
(This story was produced with the support of Earth Journalism Network.)
