Wazzup Pilipinas!?
In Barangay Burias, Glan, the ocean has committed an act of betrayal.
For the people of this coastal community in Sarangani, the sea was not merely a backdrop; it was a pantry, an employer, and a neighbor. But on the day the earth buckled under the force of a magnitude 7.8 earthquake, the horizon retreated. In a tectonic convulsion that defied human experience, the land surged upward, pushing the coastline back by 200 meters.
Where children once dove into azure waters, there is now only a desolate expanse of exposed reef, calcified death, and a lingering, suffocating stench of decay.
A Landscape Transformed
The scale of the transformation is difficult to grasp. While other areas in the region have reported geological shifts, the coastal uplift in Burias is gargantuan—at least three to four times larger in land area than its neighbors. Drone footage and ground reports reveal a surreal, apocalyptic theater: dead sea urchins bleached by the sun, brittle seagrass carpeting the sand, and the skeletal remains of coral reefs that once served as the lungs of the local ecosystem.
“It is like the place was bombed,” says 19-year-old Saud Dianang, who has spent his entire life foraging these shores. To him, the loss is visceral. As he sifts through the ruin, there are no schools of fish to catch, no shimmering movement in the shallows. He now needs a shovel to pry a few shells from the hardened earth where he once cast nets with ease.
“It’s like a bubble,” he adds, his voice heavy with the gravity of his loss. “You prick it and it’s gone. Nothing is left.”
The Death of a Dream
The devastation is not limited to the environment; it is a direct assault on the livelihoods of those who banked their futures on the beauty of the Sarangani coast.
Jerome Kingkim, who co-owns Kingkim Beach, stands amidst the wreckage of his business. Cottages that once overlooked the crashing surf now sit hundreds of meters from the water’s edge, some twisted and uprooted by the tectonic force. Nearby, the local mosque lies flattened—a silent testament to the sheer power of the event.
For Kingkim and other local operators—including Crystal Shore, Malingkat, and Salisipan Point—the question of viability looms like a ghost. Their business model was built on the promise of the sea. They sold the experience of the tide, the accessibility of the cove, and the thriving marine life—dugongs, dolphins, and whales—that once frequented these waters.
Today, that topography has been erased. The renowned Bato Buri cove, once a magnet for motorcycle enthusiasts and vloggers, is a changed place. The water has retreated, leaving its iconic rock formation isolated on a dry, barren shoreline.
A Plea for Survival
As the province shifts its tourism focus toward more stable areas like Gumasa—which remained largely spared by the uplift—the residents of Burias find themselves sidelined. They are not asking for glory; they are asking for a lifeline.
The people of Burias are currently surviving on the crumbs of a broken ecosystem, picking through the remaining shallows for whatever food remains while they wait for government assistance that feels agonizingly slow to arrive.
Despite the tragedy, a quiet, desperate hope persists. Jerome Kingkim still holds onto the possibility that the world might look at his broken village not as a lost cause, but as a place worthy of a second chance.
“This is our life,” he says simply.
In the wake of a 7.8 magnitude disaster, the residents of Burias are not just mourning the loss of their coastline; they are fighting to ensure their future doesn’t vanish along with it. The sea may have moved, but for the people of this village, the struggle to survive has only just begun.
Ross is known as the Pambansang Blogger ng Pilipinas - An Information and Communication Technology (ICT) Professional by profession and a Social Media Evangelist by heart.
Post a Comment