Guardians of the Lagoon: Mangroves, Jellyfish, and Livelihoods in Zamboanga
By: Nonnette C. Bennett
Picture perfect mangrove forest that protects the island in times of typhoons and storms.
Just like forests, mangroves stand as silent sentinels against the destructive wrath of typhoons and storms. Best kept pristine, they are vanguards of aquatic life—home to non-stinging jellyfish, starfishes, and seagrass meadows. Yet beyond their ecological role, mangroves have become attractions for visitors, offering livelihood and opportunities to island communities of more than 200 residents.
In these parts, forests are meant to sustain life: recharging water tables, keeping streams potable for households, and feeding irrigation canals. But the equation of livelihood has often been reduced to agriculture and mining, leaving trees and water out of the balance. Could tourism, like the celebrated Santa Cruz Pink Sand Island and Lagoon in Zamboanga City, offer a sustainable alternative?
A Journey Across the Basilan Strait
The tour guide shows us the male and female mangrove tree and the fruits they bear.
Four kilometers across Zamboanga City lies Grande Island, a 300-hectare expanse with a nine-hectare lagoon at its heart. Our group of 20 was ferried by four boats, arriving early to escape the punishing noon sun. We landed on a beach dotted with yellow boats painted with Bagong Pag-asa. Unlike traditional outrigger vessels, these boats were flat-ended, designed to float side by side during lagoon tours.
The boats were donated by Gina Lopez of the ABS-CBN Foundation and the Yellow Boat of Hope organization, providing income for paddlers—many of them students earning their weekly allowance. Each vessel was manned by pairs of boatmen and women, their strokes steady as they guided us into the mangrove labyrinth.
Lessons Among the Mangroves
Cherry grabs a handful of fresh seaweeds from the water that served as snacks for the duration of the tour.
Our guide, with humor and wit, introduced us to the mangroves—bakawan in the vernacular. He distinguished the female trees with rounded leaves and clustered berries, and the male with pointed tips and solitary fruit. “We have yet to find the third type, the baklawan,” he quipped, drawing laughter.
He assured us there were no alligators in the lagoon—“They’re now called Honorable,” he joked, sparking another round of chuckles.
The Yellow Boats of Hope are paddled by some of the 200 plus residents of Sta. Cruz Island in Zamboanga City as their income and promise to maintain the mangrove forest in the lagoon.
As we drifted deeper, the water grew clearer. Brown and white jellyfish pulsed gently beneath the surface. We were invited to cradle them in our palms, but only while submerged—lifting them into the air would mean certain death. For the braver among us, it was a moment of wonder. I declined, citing lotion and alcohol on my hands that might harm them.
Seagrass swayed below, sharp enough to cut if touched. Seaweeds floated nearby, crunchy and salty when sampled—a natural snack offered by the lagoon itself.
Pink Sands and Island Life
In pairs, the islanders paddle the tour boats. that are uniquely designed for two passengers and two rowers.
The tour brought us to a sandbar where we tried sailing a vinta, its colorful sails catching the breeze. Back at the village, children greeted us with handfuls of sand speckled red and pink from crushed shells and corals. The hues echoed in the shells collected along the shore, later transformed into refrigerator magnets, souvenirs, and trinkets sold by residents. Pearls and coral crafts added to their modest economy.
Other islanders patrol the lagoon regularly, clearing plastic waste to protect the mangrove forest and its fragile lifeforms. Their collective agreement is simple yet profound: to safeguard the lagoon as a source of livelihood for generations.
Tourism as Stewardship
Group tours are the best to appreciate the lagoon that is a sanctuary of the non-sting jelly fishes, starfishes, and the best and freshest seaweeds.
Grande Island’s lagoon is more than a destination—it is a living classroom, a sanctuary, and a community enterprise. Here, mangroves protect, jellyfish enchant, and residents thrive through sustainable tourism.
The question lingers: if Santa Cruz Pink Sand Island has become a model of eco-tourism, could other islands across the Philippines follow suit? The answer may lie in the hands of communities who, like the paddlers of Grande Island, choose to protect their natural heritage while sharing it with the world.
Clear waters allow the view of brown non-sting jellyfish and white starfishes feeding on seagrasses.
