- 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 flood waters for the entire Agusan River Basin.
Without it, who knows what would happen
to neighbor 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 threat.
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?
- 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 in order to uplift
and protect our wetlands.
- The people here with us now are under control
when we’re here watching over.
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,
engages 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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 lake left.
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 wait 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.