The islands of San Salvador village in Masinloc Town, Zambales province are among the areas closest to the disputed atoll and resource-rich waters of Scarborough Shoal. According to village chief Richard Pascual, San Salvador is the nearest port of entry to Scarborough Shoal.
However, fishers from San Salvador have stopped making trips to Scarborough Shoal due to the Chinese government’s threat that “trespassers in the South China Sea” would be jailed in China starting June 15 last year. The last trips were in May 2024. The trauma from past encounters and coming home without a catch or fishing equipment–or not coming home at all–has held sway.
Scarborough Shoal is a reef that borders a lagoon, located 222 km (120 nautical miles) off Masinloc, Zambales and 1,100 km (594 nautical miles) from China’s Hainan Island. This is well within the West Philippine Sea (WPS), the name officially adopted by the Philippine government in 2012, as per Administrative Order 29. In Philippine law, the WPS refers only to portions of the South China Sea that the Philippine government claims to be part of the country’s exclusive economic zone (EEZ), including Luzon Sea, Kalayaan Island Group and Scarborough Shoal.
As per the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), Scarborough Shoal is within the exclusive economic zone (EEZ) of the Philippines. The UNCLOS defines EEZs as extending 370 km (200 nautical miles) from shore, within which the coastal state has the exclusive right to explore and exploit.
But, China has effectively controlled Scarborough Shoal since 2012, maintaining a constant coast guard presence in the feature.
Karburo
Karburo, the locals call it. Also known as Bajo de Masinloc or Panatag Shoal (its Philippine name) or Buhanginan ng Panata in Filipino, it means “serene sandbank” in English. But, since 2012 when the Chinese Coast Guard (CCG) vessels started restricting Filipino fishers’ access to Scarborough Shoal (as it is known in the US Board of Geographic Names), the residents’ means of living have been anything but peaceful.
Scarborough Shoal is the equivalent of ‘greener pastures’ for San Salvador’s fishers. Successful fishing trips could net fishers up to five to ten times more than they usually earn fishing in municipal waters. One could earn around 30,000 to 70,000 pesos a month, plus a portion of the catch they can take home to their families as pasalubong (welcome or coming-home gifts).
The bigger fish and bigger catch in Scarborough Shoal allowed families to not only provide food on the table but also to dream of building or improving their houses or other facets of their lives. While in municipal waters (or up to 15km from the coastline), fishers could only catch small fishes like tuna, alumahan (mackerel), danggit (rabbitfish), and dilis (anchovy). When the catch is scanty, especially if it is less than a kilo, it is only enough for food on one’s table.
The main livelihood in San Salvador is fishing. The residents approximate that nine out of 10 men are fishers.
In the Philippines, fishing is traditionally a male livelihood. The women are engaged in post-fishing harvest activities or other means of living. However, the catch has not been as plentiful and rewarding as when the men were still fishing in Scarborough Shoal.
The women of San Salvador have had to do their share to earn a living for the family, even before the men’s fishing trips to Scarborough Shoal ceased. They have also learned to face the perils of the sea.
Diving for aquarium fish
“Kapag kumulo ang dagat, kukulo ang tiyan [When the sea rumbles, the stomach rumbles],” said Janessa Taneo or Janing, 44, mother of three and a native of San Salvador.
This is a popular saying on the island (or in many islands and coastal towns in the country, perhaps) referring to the strong waves that deter fishers from going to sea, leaving their families hungry.
Janing knows how the weather, the dwindling catch in municipal waters, and the Chinese ban on Scarborough Shoal make the main livelihoods on the island uncertain. This is why she chose a livelihood almost impervious to the big waves when the winds are strong (which could last from June to February): diving for aquarium fish.
(The Philippines has two main seasons: wet season from June to November and dry season from December to May. These seasons have popular sub-divisions according to weather occurrences, livelihood, culture or other factors. Typhoon season, or bagyuhan as locals call it, is from June to October; sometimes up to December in recent years. The fishers feel the effects of the northeast monsoon winds or amihan most strongly from November to February. Summer, especially April to May, provides the biggest fish catch. Any day or night throughout the year when the wind and waves are gentle, fishers can go to sea.)
Janing goes to sea after doing her house chores and sending her kids to school. She would go to sea every day, if there were a sliver of good weather. Her goal is to catch at least 50 a day, to earn around 2,000 pesos a week. By the end of the week, most of her income would go to paying off her debts that same week, mostly from food she owed.
The waters where Janing dives for fish fall below the waist. Her only complaints are the cold temperature and the choppy waves that could wash her catch back to sea. She and her companions would spend the whole morning catching fish with their nets or bare hands, and only come home when it was too hot to stay under the sun. For the rest of the day, they would tend to the fish, reoxidize them, and clean their containers in the shop where they sell their catch.
This is a trade she learned from her mother, who in her 60s is still diving for aquarium fishes as the breadwinner for (at least) three grandchildren left to her care and a husband who suffered a stroke. A foreigner taught Janing’s mother and other residents on the island this livelihood so they have their means to earn money and replace the use of cyanide in fishing. Like her mother, Janing has also taken up the role of breadwinner.
Janing’s husband used to join fishing trips to Scarborough Shoal.
“He did not want to go back because the [CCG] does not allow them inside the lagoon where the waters are calm. Their small boats had to stay outside the reef, in the open sea where the waves are too high and too strong,” Janing said.
It’s too much of a risk for him, Janing shared. Sometimes, the CCG would fire their water cannons on them or confiscate their fishing equipment and catch. They would go home empty-handed after the 18-hour trip each way, plus days out in the open sea. Sometimes, the CCG would leave alone the small boats they caught up with, or the Filipino fishing boats would act as if they were just about to leave when the CCG arrived. The latter is the better scenario, but it was not always what happened.
On good weather days, he had to fish in municipal waters or collect shellfish in the sea for their food. During the amihan season, days stretched into weeks when he could not go fishing.
During typhoon season, Janing shared that they usually have only sardinas na may sotanghon (canned sardines cooked with vermicelli noodles) to eat. Sometimes, just the canned sardines–a lasting icon of poverty in the country. She would get sawaki (sea urchins) from the sea when they had no money, and when she could not go out to work because of the weather. At least her children love sawaki, she shared. Or if she was lucky enough to catch 10 pieces of kulita (baby octopus), she could cook an adobo meal for the family.
Gigilyn Egana, 45, also dives for aquarium fish with her sister Juliet, 63, but in another part of the island. They catch anemone fish and blue tanks, calling them Nemo and Dory, and starfish. With improvised floating baskets for their catch, goggles they call antepara, and just their regular clothes, they would dive into cold waters sometimes deeper than their height and come up for air after a few minutes, hopefully with fish inside their small hand nets.
Gigilyn is the wife of Delfin, the fisherman accosted by the CCG in Scarborough Shoal in 2017. Delfin got depressed and later suffered a stroke. He used to earn 70,000 pesos a month fishing in Scarborough Shoal. Now, Gigilyn needs to go fishing to put food on the table aside from caring for Delfin.
“He used to have a lot of dreams. He wanted to give our house to his child. He said he needed two more trips to Scarborough to finish the terrace. We were not able to complete it anymore,” said Gigilyn.
Norvelyn, 24, the daughter of Gigilyn and Delfin, recalled how they did not lack anything when their father could still go fishing in Scarborough Shoal.
“When he sees that the food stocks are running low, he goes fishing and replenishes them. Even when it was raining, he would go fishing and all of us, including his grandchildren, wouldn’t go hungry. He always buys his grandchildren milk. That’s what he worried about when his equipment was confiscated, that he won’t be able to buy his grandchildren milk anymore,” said Norvelyn.
Their situation is harder during the typhoon and amihan season when Gigilyn cannot go fishing.
“Before, we could still send our child to school. Now, he can’t make a living, and I can’t afford all our needs. I wanted to get treatment for my husband, but we don’t even have enough for food,” said Gigilyn.
Coal picking
Juliet, meanwhile, had to find other means of living because a coal barge ran aground where she and Gigilyn used to dive for aquarium fish.
“My livelihood is diving for Nemo, Dory and starfish. I have been doing this for 20 years all year round. But the barge beached where we used to dive for aquarium fish,” shared Juliet.
She now collected coal in the shallow waters and on the beach.
“I still need to work for my adult son with special needs. He lives with me and I need to provide for both of us. I can’t rely on my four other children because they have their own families to feed,” shared Juliet, who has been collecting coal for three weeks as of the interview.
She collected coal alongside her daughters, who were also hoping to add to their own family’s daily income. They have been waiting for the barge’s insurance company to pay for the coal they collected.
In the aftermath of Typhoon Christine in October 2024, the barge drifted before it was beached and spilled most of its contents, around 11,000 tons of coal. The residents noticed that the fish left, and the shellfish died. Soon after, the village council prohibited fishing, collecting shellfish, and swimming in the areas near the barge.
A clean-up of the beach where the coal scattered or washed ashore was initiated. Residents were paid 10 pesos for every kilo of coal they collected. There was also a payment of 300 pesos per day for official clean-up days. After the first payout, there were no more daily clean-ups but the residents continued collecting coal, expecting to be paid eventually.
By January, there were less than two dozen people still picking coal. The beach used to be full of people picking coal; it was like a fiesta, shared the residents.
The tragedy became a once-in-a-blue-moon livelihood opportunity for the residents, just in time for the difficult amihan season. The last time a barge crashed near their shores was more than a decade ago, and there was no paid clean-up involved, to the villagers’ recollection.
Meanwhile, there is not enough information about the hazards that come with coal picking or living near waters or the beach with tons of coal. The residents only knew that children, the elderly, and those with hypertension were not allowed to pick coal off the beach.
Collecting ‘aragan’
Gathering ‘aragan’, a type of seaweed, is one of the common livelihoods in San Salvador during the amihan season or from November to February. Families of fishers who cannot go fishing during amihan would turn to gathering aragan.
Women would usually gather the seaweeds that washed up on the beach, dry them for a day, clean the sand off, and pack in sacks to be sold to a merchant in the town proper. These are said to be used for fertilizer and are sold for 33 pesos per sack.
One cycle of these chores could take up to three days. A family can gather around 200 kilos in two weeks or earn about 1,000 pesos per week. The aragan season effectively stops when there are no more aragan washing on the beach or when there are no more buyers.
“Our livelihood depends on the weather,” said Ronalyn Esmende, 39, who shares three children with her husband Crispo Jamito.
Ronalyn is a native of San Salvador. She said she taught Crispo, who is from the town proper, the various means of living on the island.
“When we don’t have money or other work, I go out and collect shellfish, and I sell them. When there’s no shellfish, I work as a laundrywoman. When the aragan comes, we collect them. When there’s no more aragan, we make charcoal. During the rainy season, we work different farming jobs from planting to harvesting. That’s how it is year after year,” said Ronalyn.
They live near where the barge beached. Because of the barge, they had an opportunity for extra income. The tradeoff was that they could not collect shellfish or go fishing in the waters near their home, not for food or trade.
The Scarborough dream
While many fishermen still long to return to Scarborough Shoal, they cannot bring themselves to do so for they still don’t know if it’s safe.
“Mahirap nang masampolan [It’s hard if we’ll be the ones they’ll make an example of],” said the village chief about China’s threat to put foreigners “trespassing” in a jail in China for 60 days without trial.
Scarborough or no Scarborough, the women have to make do with how they can feed the family and keep the clothes on their backs.
“I am not allowed to get sick! I have debts to pay. I keep on asking for loans for my children’s education. It’s okay, I can pay these debts off as long as I am alive. If I am dead and I can’t pay anymore, I hope they convert my debts to donations for my funeral,” Janing joked.
Janing shared that her biggest dreams are to see her children finish college so they do not have to work in the sea like her and to complete building her family’s house. She does not mind being the breadwinner and intends to keep working for as long as she can.
“We will always find a way for our children. My children are my only hope in life,” said Janing.
This story is produced as a part of the Asia Pacific Forum on Women, Law and Development’s Media and Visual Fellowship on Militarism, Peace and Women’s Human Rights.
