BATASAN, Philippines – When floods invade her home at night – and they always do, a little higher than every year – Pelagia Villarmia waits in her bed.
One day soon, she knows, the water will cross the bamboo slates in her bed. It will keep growing, salty and dark and amazingly cool.
Sea water massages mesh the walls of Villarmea’s house .They have crushed the furniture and frosted a DVD player with the help of its tray. An X-ray image of Mrs. Villarmia and her husband, who is now dead hanging on the wall, when they were young, hopeful and ignorant of sea hunger.
What is happening to Mrs. Villarmia and her neighbors in an island island in the Philippines will be confronted by residents of the world’s low-island and coastal regions as the sea rises.
At 20, Batashan was distracted by a magnitude 2.22 earthquake. Thousands of aftershocks followed the shock, and local topography was thrown off-kilter. Batashan and the three neighboring islands collapsed downward, making the water around them risky.
Now climate change, along with rising sea levels, is sinking into a space that is not as high as it should be. The highest point in the archipelago is less than 6.7 feet below sea level
When the flood situation worsens, Mrs. Villaremia has learned to rely on cool rice and coffee. She has mastered her valuables so that they do not float.
He is 80 years old and he knows the logic of the real tables.
He said, “I will leave before the wind blows.” “But the winds will disappear too.”
During each new and full moon, crossing a single road running along the winding pole, the population of 1,400 people and people entered the house, and the sea was seamlessly crossed by garbage-streams. The island, which is part of the Tibigan chain in the Central Philippines, is at least a third of a year wet.
Most floods are taller than any of the people here and they sink to the basketball court. They immerse an image of sea life in elementary school, adding authenticity to the cartoonish renditions of the Greening Shark and the Manta ray.
When the tide arrives, the air, thickly filled with houses and shacks, is not clean sea air, but deep-roasted sofas, submerged documents, and saturated drains that wash human waste into machines through homes.
Only a few coconut palm trees survive. The rest of the sea has stopped breathing.
“People say it’s because of the Arctic melting,” said local resident Dennis Sucanto, whose job is to measure the level of water in the air each year. “I don’t understand but that’s what they say.”
One year after the earthquake of 20, the local government proposed to take the islanders an hour by boat and take them to their new home.
“They wanted us to go to a hill ranch,” said Rodrigo Kosciol, 66, who shook his head in the face. “We are fishermen. We need fish
Mr Casciol added, “We are not afraid of water anymore”. “It’s our way of living.”
The people of Batashan who would like to leave their homes – instead choosing from inch to inch to respond to the new reality – may have valuable lessons for residents of other vulnerable island states. Instead of overwhelming the entire population with a lot of trauma and expenditure, a more effective solution can be localized, rigorous but effective.
“The message of climate refugees is more intriguing but the more realistic details from the islanders are the adaptation than the mass migration,” said Loris Jamero, who said Tubigan studied the islands For five years and at the Manila Observatory, a research institute led efforts to determine climate and disaster risk.
And the inhabitants of the wind have adjusted as they have worn their hems. They set up their homes in blocks of coral stones. They scattered the goats in pieces. They have taken most of the plant’s life from floodable patches to vessel vessels.
There are other concessions. The Roman Catholic priest at the local church declared that the parishioners would no longer have to walk to pray when the tide was high.
Annie Cascazzo, a local health committee member who once worked on the island and, like many others, returned to Bataan, said, “We will find a way to work because it is our home”.
The constant threat of nature has imposed resilience on Philippine DNA.
The Philippines is one of the world’s most vulnerable countries Typhoon, Earthquakes, floods, Landslides and tsunamisAmong other disasters as well. Earlier this year, Tal volcano The sky sent ash plumes, threatening Manila.
“In fact, the whole Philippines is a risky landscaping, so people can move elsewhere and not be completely safe,” said Dakila Kim Pee Yi, a sociologist at Visayas Tacloban College in the Philippines. “We created this culture of adaptation and recovery.”
According to Asian Development Bank sources, more than 20,000 people in the Philippines died from natural disasters from ১৯৯১৯৯ ।০১ to 2016.
“This is a way to tackle environmental challenges like typhoons or tsunamis,” said Mrs Jamero of the Manila Observatory, referring to the Tibigan Islands and Filipinos in general. “Climate change has dire implications but it’s not alien to them so they have the power.”
In Uba, an island of 160 inhabitants 20 minutes from Boatshan by boat, the raised walkway connects to a shorts warne. The elementary school floor was raised taller than many adults, leaving the classrooms jammed with less than 5 feet of space on the rafters.
“Our teachers need to be very young,” said Ube Local Councilor John Olipayo. “The students are already there.”
Before the reformation, children would spread their tide on the sidewalk in class. Their attention has flowed, parents said.
Even as this national transformation helps people cope with the effects of the flood, the life of this tiny and tropical island that spans Cebu Street remains challenging.
Most days, the tropical sun moves away from coral and sand, reflecting a harsh light that gives many islands a permanent squat. In 2016, there was no rain for four months. Dynamite Fishing, And coral bleaching has taken some of its life away from climate change.
There is no source of fresh water, so residents rely on rain water or drinking water from elsewhere. People can grow a few herbs and vegetables but there is no proper cultivation. Protein comes from the sea – affectionate anchovies, creamed oysters, fat shrimp – and cheap cans of fat-corned beef.
Batson children who are fortunate enough to own a bike have an option – up and down the main road, the only road.
The concrete strip runs for less than two-thirds of a mile, after which Alma exits in a mangrove wetland near the Rebucas home, where he regularly enters the shallow waters. He protects the family vessels so that they do not float. Her dogs and goats swim. So is the cat.
Mrs Rebucas says she has no plans to move. Local government is building new buildings in the neighborhood, a vote of no confidence – even if it depends on the cinder blocks generated.
He oversees the fishing business from sea to sea cucumbers, crabs and groupers. Life is like a magic trick here, Mrs. Rebucus says nothing was made of anything.
“We don’t need a lot of land,” he said. “We have the whole sea.”