As the country lights candles and dusts off gravestones this week, there’s something poetic, if not painful, about remembering the dead while the sea itself seems to mourn. In Bais City, Negros Oriental, thousands of fish turned up lifeless on the shore after an ethanol leak spilled into the bay, suffocating marine life. It disrupted the fragile rhythm of coastal living in this serene province.
The images are haunting as posted in this newspaper: fisherfolk hauling dead fish instead of fresh catch, the waters turning brackish, and livelihoods suddenly uncertain. It’s All Saints’ and All Souls’ weekend, when Filipinos traditionally pause to honor the departed. This year, nature and the residents of the affected areas feel like grieving. The sea has lost its life, and the people who depend on it are left to pick up what remains.
Many are unsure when normalcy will return to these affected shores. All sectors including tourism are dying. We often talk about death in human terms but rarely do we speak of the dying ecosystems that sustain us. What happens when a sea dies, for good? Will a couple million pesos compensate the damage done? The people of this province cannot just sit and watch each day go by with more damage sustained.
While we believe that the ethanol leak in Bais was, by all accounts, an accident; it should be accounted for. If the containment wall gave in, releasing wastewater from a distillery plant into the bay, who is responsible? Like most environmental tragedies, it’s also a story of neglect and leniency. We fear that they will be ready to move on after the apologies are made and relief packs are handed out. It is written on record, we easily forget as if nothing happened.
In the spirit of All Saints’ Day, we remember those who lived with integrity and courage. Perhaps this is the time to honor the modern saints among us. They are the environmental defenders, fisherfolk, and coastal communities who, in their quiet persistence, remind us that caring for creation is also a form of faith. On All Souls’ Day, when we pray for the dead, maybe we can expand that prayer to include what we have collectively lost. These are not just natural resources; they are the soul of a community.
In many ways, our relationship with the environment mirrors how we treat the dead. We remember only when something is gone. We visit, we lament, and then we leave until the next tragedy reminds us again.
So as the candles burn tonight and prayers rise with the smoke, perhaps we can also make a quiet vow to protect the living seas that feed us. We demand accountability when harm is done, to treat the earth not as something to be used, but something to be kept. The truest way to honor the dead is to ensure that what still lives like our waters, our air, our people can continue to breathe.