Story & photos by Celine Murillo
A strip of land emerged in the distance, breaking the illusion that there was nothing but sea.
It looked like a toothbrush on its back with a spine of limestone for a handle, and bunches of trees for bristles.
The surrounding waters gleamed metallic under the early sun; its deep ultramarine mesmerizing. Even from afar, it was clear that Danjugan was not like any other island.
An island saved
Situated in the midst of a locally declared marine reserve and wildlife sanctuary in the town of Cauayan in Negros Occidental, Danjugan Island is a 45-hectare islet privately managed by the Philippine Reef and Rainforest Conservation Foundation. Through an extensive donation campaign in the 1990s, people from all over the world pitched in and averted possible destruction. Good thing, too, for the island is one of the most vibrant and richest landscapes in the Philippines. It harbors lagoons and lengths of pebbly white-sand beaches, bordered by a thriving marine life and carpeted with rainforests. It is home to 10 species of bats, and 72 species of birds, including the Tabon scrubfowl. Scientists have also recorded 579 species of fish and 244 species of corals flourishing in the surrounding waters.
With this much biodiversity, it’s remarkable that along with being a protected area, Danjugan Island is also one of Negros Occidental’s prime ecotourism destinations. It does welcome tourists, regularly even, but under specific conditions.
Danjugan is touted for its sustainable tourism practices, employing a strict carrying a 50-people capacity per day—a fixed number which entails accepting visits only via reservation. Once in the island, each visitor must attend a briefing before going around. They must also be accompanied by a local guide at all times during the tour, making sure guests don’t stray from the established trails. This way, the island suffers less human impact, allowing wildlife and the island itself to recover and thrive, under mitigated human impact.
‘We protect what we love’
It’s not just the quality-over-quantity philosophy that makes Danjugan sustainable. The island regularly holds marine camps for the local youth from nearby communities. Stewardship, a sense of accountability and love for nature are inculcated to budding minds through experiential learning, facilitated by world experts on biology, conservation and wildlife protection. A scholarship program for students interested in pursuing a career related to these key subjects is also in place. Most of the employees in the island are also locals. By enjoining the communities, providing livelihood and education, the residents are discouraged from resorting to destructive practices like dynamite fishing and poaching. Allowing the people to see that the island is more valuable to them intact than destroyed had enabled them to become partners of the cause.
Not opposing themes
This is the kind of tourism model that the Philippines direly needs. Most of our tourist destinations are natural sites—environmental marvels that would eventually suffer the brunt of human impact, or worse, abused by human greed. To conserve our natural heritage, utilized for tourism, policies and regulations must be in place, and strictly and consistently enforced by the locals and government agencies. If done right, tourism would engender a more sustainable source of livelihood for the communitiess. Like in the case of Danjugan, the residents fully understand what would happen should the island becomes threatened. As a result, they gladly take on the role of stewards and work for protection and conservation.
Land of sweet surprises
For a province largely known for its sugar plantations, it’s a bit of a surprise—a delightful one at that—to find places like Danjugan in Negros Occidental. And sustainability has actually been a long-standing theme here.
Since the sugar crisis of the 1970s and 1980s, the province had a powerful drive toward diversification. As evidenced by its varied produce, that campaign had been largely successful. The people obviously no longer rely on the sugar industry alone. There are countless others to choose from, all equally profitable and boosted by the local government: rice and corn, cattle, nuts and even small community-based industries like pandan-weaving and silk production.
Furthermore, islands like Danjugan aren’t the only tourist destinations in the province. There are the many heritage houses in Sipalay and Talisay. Farm destinations, in Bacolod and in Don Salvador, are also rising, with front-runners like May’s Garden and Rapha Valley being buoyed by the local government. And then, of course, there are the beaches of Silay, and the looming Mount Kanlaon.
There’s a lot to be said, too, of its people. Refusing to be defined by the past, tragedy became something worthy of celebration. The Panaad Festival, for example, the annual event where all the towns gather for one big celebration, was birthed by strength of character—the term panaad being Hiligaynon for “promise.” And that promise? To learn from the past: The lesson of never putting all eggs in a single basket to propel the province to a brighter tomorrow.
After 25 years, as evidenced by the many industries that thrive here, coupled with the drive towards sustainability, Negros Occidental is proving to have kept, and is continuously keeping, its word.