- Everything around you is alive.

We live in a world 
where the palette

is overwhelmingly gray on blue.

If you're lucky, you get 
a sporadic smudge of green.

Here, you can see 
the world breathe.

Highways are replaced by streams, 
cars by canoes.

Your eyes think that 
you're surrounded by land,

but it's a trick.

Underneath the growth, 
more water,

a quiet resistance.

You follow one path today, 
and by tomorrow it's gone.

There is no place 
in the Philippines

that carries more mystery
than the Agusan Marsh.

Some people see these wetlands 
merely as ecosystems

and important biodiverse areas.

Others see them 
as big bags of cash,

land to be turned 
into highly efficient farms,

but a few people see them 
as a home.

And this is their story.

The Agusan Marsh Wildlife Sanctuary 
stretches across

40,000-plus hectares 
of wetlands,

roughly the size of Manila.

It's one of the biggest 
in Southeast Asia

and one of the most vital 
in the Philippines.

A Ramsar Site, globally recognized 
but barely talked about.

It's all interconnected by lakes, 
rivers, marshes, and ponds.

It acts like a giant sponge 
during typhoon season,

absorbing floodwaters 
for the entire Agusan River Basin.

Without it, who knows 
what would happen

to neighboring towns like Butuan?

It's home to rare birds, 
floating villages,

and indigenous communities 
who've learned to live

with the rise 
and fall of the water.

But it's under threats.

Pollution and climate change 
are slowly choking it.

- Life cannot simply exist 
without the Agusan Marsh.

The marsh protects everything here.

When you talk 
of the Agusan Marsh,

you got to take into account 
the bigger picture

of the Agusan River Basin.

Technically, that's the third 
largest river system

in the Philippines, 
encompassing Regions XI and XIII—

that's Davao and Caraga.

What you have here in our town, 
your catch basin.

And come to think of it, 
everything revolves

around this catch basin.

They say that life begins here.

There can never ever be 
an Agusan del Sur

without the Agusan Marsh.

- What's that, Datu?

- For defense.

- Walking stick.

Datu Artemio was selected 
as one of the leaders

due to his Lumad lineage.

The Lumad are some 
of the first wave of people

to settle in the Philippines, 
specifically around Mindanao.

Their ancestral land 
is often highly sought-after,

making them one 
of the most vulnerable

ethnic groups in the country.

They are also one of the few groups
that have held on

to their pre-colonial culture.

As in most areas 
in the Philippines,

where there is 
a strong indigenous ancestry,

most people with roles to play 
in the community also happen

to have official 
government positions.

Datu was previously 
an LGU official and now his son

is barangay captain.

They both lead the people 
in Caimpugan and its peatland,

one of the many parts 
of the Agusan Marsh Wildlife Sanctuary.

The relationship 
between indigenous religions

and the Catholic Church 
is complex,

marked by both historical tensions 
and reconciliation.

Indigenous religions, 
often rooted in animism

and oral traditions, 
are distinct from the church's

codified beliefs and practices.

Just like when we were colonized, 
one culture doesn't

usually completely erase 
the other,

parts of it are indigenized.

So you'll find people praying 
to the Catholic God

alongside other entities.

Where people live with the land, 
these are still

a common practice.

Most of the people here 
are Catholic,

but their own Lumad culture 
is still very strong,

as it should be.

These rituals are carried out 
to ensure safe passage

and acceptance 
into the community.

- What we have here 
within the Augustan Marsh

Wildlife Santuary
is the Caimpugan peatland.

The peatland, it covers just 3% 
of the Earth's surface.

But according to the ICUN, 
they believe that peatland

conserves 30% 
of the world's carbon,

and that is twice as much 
carbon sequestered

as compared to all 
the rainforests combined.

The conservation of wetlands 
is crucial because it mitigates

the impacts of climate change.

If it is damaged, 
it releases tons of CO2

far greater than anything.

- The people here with us, for now, 
are controlled

because we’re already here 
as Bantay Danao.

Unlike before when people 
kept coming in and out.

- In order to uplift
and protect our wetlands,

The Society for the Conservation 
of Philippine Wetlands

mobilizes advocates 
across the Philippines

in the world 
to facilitate conservations

and pioneer technical assistance.

Together with them 
is the Protected Area

Management Office, or PAMO, 
which manages

the overall conservation 
of the Agusan Marsh.

One of their efforts 
includes marshaling volunteers

across all communities 
to guard the marsh,

birthing the fearless group
called Bantay Danao.

- When we were kids,

on days when we didn't have classes
in elementary school,

we would come here and play.

We would pick fruits from the trees—
kandiis (a sour fruit)—

and eat them.

We'd see monkeys here. 
Also wild pigs, and deer.

Because back then, 
this whole place

was still flat and untouched.

But now, it's different.
Because of the heat.

The weather isn't the same anymore.

And there are people
abusing the land.

- People never mind talking 
of climate change

in its first inception 
before that Kyoto Protocol

way back 2005.

But people began realizing 
the true value of its protection

because we had a number 
of extreme river flooding

like never before.

We had an extreme 
river flooding in 2014,

followed by an extreme 
river flooding in 2017

and just recently in 2024, 
February 6th last year.

By having seen it 
and experienced it firsthand,

this Agusan Marsh serves 
as nature's kind of dam,

protecting the adjacent localities

on all those places downstream, 
more so Butuan City.

Believe me, 
without the Agusan Marsh,

there wouldn't be any place 
called Butuan City at all.

People realize that we get 
to change something

for the better.

For if not, there would be far 
more extreme river flooding.

within Agusan del Sur.

- Our peatland area is so vast 
that even with regular patrols,

we can't cover the entire place
in just a month.

There's a huge difference 
between before and now.

Different types of grasses
are growing now.

It's not like before where even
from far away,

you could already see clearly.

Because the floods brought seeds
from over there

and carried them here,
and now they're growing.

It used to be much cooler
than now.

That's why now our peatland 
has problems—

because it catches fire.

Before, the weather was cooler.
Now it's different.

There are about 4 to 5 months here
that are very hot.

Even a small problem here 
in the forest

can easily spark a fire
because of the heat.

This is what burns—

when a small piece of wood cracks,
it sparks and catches fire.

There's not much we can do.

By the time we get here,
the fire is already big.

We just take pictures 
and call the local government for help.

Because the firemen
can't get inside here.

Sometimes we bring tools to try 
to beat the fire down.

Like here, if it burns here,
we hit it to try to stop it—

but when the fire surrounds you,
it's impossible.

All you can really do is pray.

- Experience is the greatest 
teacher of us all.

Come to think of it, 
the Agusan Marsh is overseen

by six localities as well.

When you talk 
of the Augustan Marsh

Wildlife Sanctuary, 
Talacogon is not alone.

The LGUs of San Francisco, 
Rosario, Bunawan, Loreto, La Paz,

engage in the protection 
and the preservation

of the peatland.

It is just a common thing 
that everybody is obliged

to do their part 
because this is their way of life,

this is our way of life.

- The Panlabuhan floating village 
is home to the Manobo tribe,

families who've lived here 
for generations,

moving with the rhythm 
of the water.

Their homes rise and fall
with the marsh—

tethered but never fixed.

You've probably heard 
of floating villages before.

You're picturing houses on stilts 
where the home

is elevated enough 
that the water rarely touches

the bottom.

They are made to never meet—

not here.

The houses are built on anchored 
floating bamboo platforms.

When a typhoon hits 
and the water volume increases,

the houses and everything 
around them simply swell with it.

The water level can vary 
as much as 10 meters

and is highly unpredictable
as the flooding season

has become erratic.

- The Agusan Marsh is everything to me.

I'm going to speak honestly,
no holding back—

I was born here.

Without the marsh, 
I wouldn't even be married.

No woman would've agreed 
to be with me,

because we had no wealth
to show.

What I proudly offered my wife
was the marsh—

this is our treasure.

It's the gold I can present
to my family and my child.

- This is the kind of place 
where you have no boss—

you are the boss here.

You go out to fish, 
and by the next day,

you already have your catch.

- Fishing is life here.

They set their fish cages 
in the morning,

leave them for the day, 
and return at dusk,

hoping that the river 
has provided.

Once caught, these are dried 
for consumption

and to be sold.

They've also dealt 
with an increase

of an invasive 
water hyacinth species

that clogs their passageways 
into the marsh

and harms their livelihood.

Daily, they fight 
for their way of life.

Marites Babanto, 
the local tour guide,

remembers a time 
when the marsh felt endless,

but now it's getting smaller, 
drying up,

and the storms 
are getting stronger.

- When I became aware, 
around six or five years old,

this really looked like a vast sea.

And what I remember most 
is seeing what looked like

a truly virgin area—
nothing destroyed yet,

the water still clean, drinkable,
and there were still

plenty of fish.

Because during that time, 
our ancestors were still here.

- The Agusan Marsh 
started making headlines

when Lolong, the world's 
largest crocodile in captivity,

was caught here.

At 6.17 meters, he broke records

and then, just over a year later,

died in a cage too small 
for his legend.

But long before Lolong, 
this place was already home.

Datu recalls that his grandparents 
fled here to hide

from the Japanese soldiers 
in World War II

seeking refuge in the swamps.

Marites says her grandfather, 
Lolo Pidong,

eventually decided 
to settle here,

who came with their families—
attracted by the peace

and bountiful fishing 
the marsh provided.

Their ancestors used to live 
in tree houses,

but no matter how high 
the houses were,

their dwellings always 
got swamped during floods

and typhoons.

That's when they had 
the thought of building

a house on rafts.

Three generations later, 
their descendants are still here.

The times have changed.

Their ways need to adapt 
to commercial interests,

erratic weather 
and outside influences,

but this is still their home.

- We looked for a way for us 
to be seen here,

for the problems here 
to be known.

That’s when it started—
we were oriented

by Tuklas Katutubo Balik-Tribo

that we should fight 
for our tribe.

That they said no one else 
can help us but ourselves.

So since then, they heard it,

they saw what our problems were.

- For me, as an IP 
(Indigenous Person),

they say IPs don't reach school—
but if that's true,

it's only because of how hard
it is for us to get an education

and finish school.

All I wish—for myself
and for our children—

is that they get to reach 
at least elementary,

even just high school.

What's important is 
that they learn how to read.

Because even for me, 
I won't hide it—it's hard.

I struggle to read English,
I struggle to speak Tagalog.

What we do is just offer kindness
from the heart.

What matters most is that
you live honestly and do good

in this world, so that life 
won't be as hard on you.

From what I've observed,
this Catholic chapel

has truly been a blessing.

I'm deeply grateful 
to all those who offered help

and donated materials.

Because our livelihood really depends
on the seasons.

- What caused the damage 
was soil erosion,

climate change, 
and abuse by some people.

When there’s flooding, 
when the water rises,

the Agusan Marsh gets damaged.

The other lakes here... 
it’s like this is the only one left—

Kaningbaylan Lake.

Because the place we passed—
Dagon Creek—is man-made.

When the water rises, 
especially during Typhoon Pablo,

all the wood, everything, 
all the trash comes in here.

That’s because of the abuse 
by others.

If something still can be done, 
it must be done right away.

- So when you talk 
of climate changes,

by all means
the national government

has told us to do 
what we could,

respectively, for the protection 
of the peatland

on the Talacogon Lake.

But even as we speak,
the national government

has yet to reconcile
what would we be doing next

so as to effectively secure 
these areas as a protected zone

within the Agusan Marsh
Wildlife Sanctuary.

Nothing is permanent 
in this world but change.

We just hope that people 
would recognize more

or people would be inclined more 
of its protection

and conservation 
rather than exploiting it

for commercial use.

- What we fear most here 
as a community is that

this place will disappear.

If it reaches here, it’ll be land.

Over there, it’s already land.

We’re really afraid—
it would be such a waste.

- Being a Datu—it's something 
that makes you think twice

about acting recklessly.

Being a Datu means 
being a parent, too.

You're expected to teach
your children the right values,

to lead by example.

That's why if I were to pass
on this responsibility,

I'd only give it to someone ready
to carry the weight.

because all the problems 
of the community feel like

they rest on your shoulders.

I've come to realize that yes,
the role is difficult—

but it's not as hard 
when the community stands together.

- People realize that 
there is far more to gain

by protecting it 
rather than exploiting it.

Without this Agusan Marsh,
extreme river flooding

would somehow inundate 
all of the localities here.

So it is managed by the DENR 
and the local government units

as well, six of it.

Now the PAMO serves 
as a foot soldier

to check everything 
if all is well.

- There have been improvements
because the LGU supports us

and helps us with whatever problems 
we face now.

The LGU even said 
they would install

an emergency water pump here,
so we'll have something

to use when fire breaks out.

We've been trained
in rescue operations.

That's what we need
to protect the area.

If we didn't care,
none of this would exist.

It would all go to waste.

So now, the kids would say,
"Dad said there used

to be monkeys here,"
but they don't see any—

because the place 
has already been abused.

That's why we have to protect
our peatland.

We won't let it be neglected.

We keep reminding others here
not to abuse the land too much.

It shouldn't just be us 
taking care of it—

it should be everyone.

What's really important 
is that everyone in our barangay

knows and follows the rules
we have here.

These were taught to us
during the training we received

from PAMO and the LGU.

We locals don't want
to abuse the peatland.

- Why sir?

- We're already the fifth generation
living here,

handed down from our ancestors—

it really hurts to see it 
being destroyed.

We're thankful to PAMO
for organizing us into Bantay Danao.

So we can protect 
the environment here

in our peatland.

We don't want it to disappear.

- That is why we get
to contribute, respectively,

for its protection.

Well, God is still 
the greatest architect of us all.

This land may seem idle,
but everything has its purpose.

- We hope everyone sees the value 
of what the Lord has given.