|
By Tess B. Bacalla, Philippine Center for
Investigative Journalism
Conclusion
TALISAY CITY: Proclaimed a city a mere four
years ago, Talisay still looks like a rural coastal town, although
with a few touches here and there of urban blight. Rising above the
shacks of poor fisherfolk here, however, is a spanking new building
that seems out of sync with the rest of the city. Finished in 2004,
Talisay’s new city hall has no rival among the other cities in
Central Visayas—not even progressive Cebu City, which contented
itself with renovating its own city hall a few years back.
Rep. Eduardo Gullas of the First District of
Cebu province says the three-story structure (including a basement)
is “an edifice of love dedicated to the people of Talisay City.”
Built during his term as Talisay mayor, the city hall cost Talisay
at least P135 million, and the four-hectare lot on which it stands
was bought for P102 million.
This is the same city where officials have cited
extreme poverty to justify the lenience given to those making
illegal blasting caps, which have been used not only in dynamite
fishing but in terrorist activities that have resulted in several
deaths. Instead of arresting those engaged in illegal activities,
officials have driven them either deeper underground or to other
cities and towns.
Feeling pleased and proud, Gullas, for instance,
says the number of blasting-cap makers in Talisay has gone down. He
concedes, though, that the problem did not really disappear, but
that parts of it just migrated elsewhere. “It solves the problem
at least in Talisay,” he says. According to some industry
observers, those involved in the first stage of blasting-cap making
remain in Talisay, and a significant chunk of the second stage now
takes place in Bohol.
A military intelligence officer says Talisay
remains the center of the illegal blasting-cap industry. “The
order comes from Talisay,” he says. “What they’ve done is
recruit people on other islands. Those in Talisay remain on top.”
With Talisay’s waters seeing a dramatic
decline in fish populations because of dynamite fishing, which
continues to this day, many fishing families here have turned to
making blasting caps. For every 100 pieces of tin caps formed—the
first stage in blasting-cap making—one is paid P17. The process is
fairly simple; even a child can do it. Putting the primary explosive
made up of ammonium nitrate and gasoline is another stage and is
done by another person. Those who do this are paid more because the
stage requires more training and skill.
Talisay’s illegal blasting caps can fetch P30
apiece, a bargain compared with the legal caps, which are imported
and cost double that price. The trade in legal blasting caps, which
are used generally for mining or construction, is regulated, and
buying, selling and transporting them require a permit from the
Philippine National Police.
The real killers
Authorities note a growing demand for blasting
caps, largely from blast fishers across the Philippines. One fisher
here says that with P100-worth of explosives, a catch of even just 5
kilos of fish still means hefty profits for the blast fisher. Yet
those who make the caps are earning just enough to feed their
families. According to some local authorities and NGO workers, those
making a real killing are the financiers, who also sell the blasting
caps and ammonium nitrate wholesale, and the retailers, who often
double their investments. In this city, industry observers say, only
one financier is left owing to the deaths of the illegal
industry’s two other bigwigs.
The retailers or dealers, meanwhile, get their
supply of illegal blasting caps and ammonium nitrate by the sackful.
They sell the blasting caps apiece and the ammonium nitrate by the
kilo to blast fishers, who assemble these into dynamite. Fishers too
poor to pay cash for the caps and ammonium nitrate, which costs some
P36 a kilo, get their explosives on credit. They later pay with
their catch, which they are forced to sell to the explosives dealers
at half the normal price.
In October 2003 Antonio Oposa, as head of the
National Environmental Action Team of the Integrated Bar of the
Philippines, visited Talisay and offered to help then-Mayor Gullas
eradicate the blasting-cap industry here. Oposa, who was accompanied
by representatives from nongovernment and law-enforcement agencies,
focused on stopping dynamite fishing and believed that one way to do
that was to cut off access to the explosives used in the practice.
Gullas asked for a 90-day reprieve from arrests,
saying an alternative livelihood had to be provided first. “I gave
them a piece of my mind,” says Gullas. “It’s easy for you to
come with grandiose ideas, but I know my people. What about their
families?”
Gullas says he had used the same tactic with
local drug lords, whom he had also given three months to abandon the
drug trade. He offered alternative jobs as well, he says. After
three months he met with the drug lords again and gave them “one
last chance.” That last chance meant they should either move to
Bohol or stay in Talisay and risk arrest.
Oposa agreed to the reprieve for blasting-cap
makers suggested by Gullas. In addition, he promptly raised the
needed amount by tapping the support of government agencies like the
environment department. “In 10 minutes after meeting [with Gullas],”
says Oposa, “I was able to raise P200,000 for the livelihood
project.”
Three months later, however, no blasting-cap
maker had availed himself of the livelihood assistance, which was
supposed to be given as loans. Oposa soon learned from the local
police that some of the blasting-cap makers had left Talisay and
moved to nearby Bohol.
The current mayor of Talisay, Soc Fernandez,
says that reports from his barangay captains indicate that those
involved in the illegal blasting-cap trade have left his city. Asked
if he believes these reports, Fernandez says the barangay leaders
“are very close to the place” and therefore are in the know
about the activities in their areas.
When he was mayor, Gullas had also asked the
barangay captains to produce lists of the known blasting-cap makers
in their areas. Many of the names on the lists belonged to
individuals who were already dead; according to the barangay
officials, this meant that the trade was also in its death throes.
Even children make blasting caps
One community leader, however, quipped, “Anong
patay? Pati mga apo niyan marunong gumawa [What do you mean the
industry’s dead? Even the grandchildren of those who have died
know how to make the caps].”
The military intelligence officer says some
places in Talisay are still making blasting caps. But he says
blasting-cap makers here have become few because some have moved
elsewhere. “Before, it was easy to buy blasting caps in Talisay,”
he adds. “Nowadays those we ask to buy caps for us have to go to
an island nearby to get them.”
Fernandez, though, says his administration has a
continuing livelihood program for the fisherfok in his city, which
should benefit even those involved in the blasting-cap trade.
Unfortunately, fishers interviewed for this report have not heard of
the program.
Fernandez recently formed a fishers’
organization, which has a budget allocation. But he admits there is
still no plan of action or program of activity that would guide it.
Perhaps this is why a staffer at the Office of
the City Agriculturist, which has jurisdiction over any program for
the fisheries sector of Talisay, knows nothing about the fishers’
organization. Then again, there was really no need for Fernandez to
form such a group, since all he had to do was activate the Talisay
Fisheries and Aquatic Resources Management Council, whose creation
at the local level is required by Republic Act 8550, or the
Philippine Fisheries Code. The Act assigns the government to ensure
“poverty alleviation and provide supplementary livelihood to
municipal fisherfolk.”
Fish wardens
The council, whose members are fisherfolk, is
tasked with addressing the fishers’ concerns and monitoring
compliance with the Fisheries Code. Because of Talisay’s problem
with dynamite fishing, some members of the council double as fish
wardens who patrol the waters and watch out for violations of the
Code, including blast fishing. One of the fish wardens admits to
being a former dynamite fisher. He says he had wondered what would
happen to his children if there were no longer any fish left.
Some council members say they were even
recognized for their patrol work during Fernandez’s previous term
as mayor, and were each given an allowance of P50 a day, plus meals.
This time, though, Fernandez seems to be taking quite a while
activating the council, leaving its members unable to resume their
patrols. The council has to be reactivated every time a new
administration takes over. During his mayorship, Gullas also failed
to revive the council.
In the meantime, Oposa no longer seems
interested in pursuing his offer to help eradicate the blasting-cap
trade in Talisay. But he says the money he had raised for the
alternative livelihood program for the blasting-cap makers remains
intact and is with the Department of Environment and Natural
Resources, which was among the agencies he had tapped for funds.
According to Oposa, dynamite fishers and not
blasting-cap makers had expressed interest in availing themselves of
the loans. But then politics apparently got in the way when Gullas
and his vice mayor, who was supposed to head the alternative
livelihood committee, had a misunderstanding. In the end, no one got
any of the money raised by Oposa.
Part 1 |
|
