The Weight of Negligence: Why Our Seas Remain a Death Trap

Posted on Feb. 3, 2026 at 3:55 pm

Every time I step onto a boat for another trip to the island, I am hit with a familiar mix of butterflies and pure excitement. For a city dweller like me, the journey is the ultimate reset button—a four-hour escape from the smog and the relentless grinding gears of the metro. Watching sapphire waves crash against the hull while the sea breeze whips through my hair is a peace I crave.

But on my most recent trip back from Lunang 2 in Almagro, Samar, that peace was shattered by a harrowing realization: the beauty of our islands is being held hostage by a culture of negligence.

Almagro is a place where time slows down. For eleven years, the community has adapted to an eight-hour electricity window, finding contentment in heart-to-heart conversations and the simple joy of a “piso-wifi” connection. It is a lifestyle I find myself longing for—a rare chance for introspection away from city complexities. However, the journey back to reality—back to Calbayog—revealed a systemic rot that no amount of island charm can hide.

As our boat meandered through the islands of Almagro to pick up cargo, the vessel transformed from a passenger ferry into a floating hazard. Sacks of copra and motorcycles piled up while the crowd grew until the lower deck was a suffocating mass of people resting on floor mats. With no seats left, passengers—myself included—were forced to the “topload,” sitting flat on the roof with nothing but a tarp for cover.

Most alarming was the complete absence of safety protocols. No life jackets. No official manifests or tickets despite a 200-peso fare. Most importantly, there was no sign of the Philippine Coast Guard or local authorities to monitor the vessel’s capacity.

When I voiced my concerns to the crew, threatening to report the overloading to MARINA, I was met with the most dangerous phrase in the Filipino language: “Normal lang ito” (This is just normal).

This “normalcy” is a death sentence.

Upon arriving in Calbayog, I sought accountability. My encounter with MARINA and the Philippine Coast Guard was a masterclass in bureaucratic indifference. A local MARINA official claimed he had “no orders from the regional office” to address such issues and demanded I provide the proof myself. The Coast Guard remained equally silent.