A lowly victim of Guimaras oil spill
I was crawling and gasping for my breath. I felt too sticky surrounded by dark murky low water. I felt so weak. I do not know what is happening around me. I have crawled my way towards the deep water but it seems that the journey towards my safe haven became endless. Inches became feet, and feet had lengthened to a proportionate forever. I need to wet my mouth because if not, I would end up with a parched throat.
I look around the environment where I used to live freely with my friends. I reminisce the good old days when we were playing around the stems of the abundant mangroves in Barangay Lucmayan. Everyday as we wallow in the warm waters of the strait between Barangay San Roque and Taklong Islands I could see the starfishes insisting dominance over their territories and small beautiful fishes dance around the sea grasses. There were plenty of sea urchins with their brisk spines ready to pinch any legs who steps upon them. I just visit the waters to bathe and wet my mouth so I can open it easily.
Taklong Tandog Marine Reserve is the safest place for my family and relatives who are in the place so many years ago. Some had died and flourished by leaving hundreds of descendants. We live in harmony with all the human beings in the area because, they are our protectors, they love us, and took good care of our environment. We are lucky to have them.
I am a nocturnal one and may seem inactive during the day. But in some instances, when friends are there to disturb me during the day, I do my sleeping sessions in the night. I like to live in a temperature between 70 to 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Moisture is important for my survival and I was clothed in a very soft covering that I have to seek other means to protect me from enemies.
Fortunately, I was born without a backbone. God gave us the most beautiful array of colors from red to brown to purple with stripes, dots and other patterns. I have legs that can support me and have flattened body and I can have two powerful grasping claws that help me most of the time in search for food and to defend me from predators. My idea of food includes plants and animals and when food becomes scarce, I can also eat dead animals. Its yucky to hear but in a world where one has to survive, we have no choice.
It is in this fateful day, when I heard voices all around me, and I am beginning to feel the load upon my shoulder. I also smelled something unusual, an odor like a rotten egg that is nauseating. I see some of my relatives falling one by one, trying to look for something to hold on to. Some had sought the roots of the mangroves, some had crept under the stones and the dark crevices of rocks. I began my endless journey hoping I could get out of that dark mess. I recognized some people getting nearer to me and I crawled faster than I can imagine. I have the biggest fight for survival. Somebody picked me up and I heard a lady calling him Director Julian Amador.
His hands were warm, and he tried to soothe my tired body by gradually removing the bunker oil that had attached to my legs and mouth. But then, it was too late. I was gasping for my last breath. I died in his arms. In my last battle with death, I heard that a tanker known as Solar I had spilled a big volume of bunker oil. I cannot comprehend all this events but in my own simple understanding, bunker oil is a very harmful fuel that should be handled carefully by cargo ships so that life in the sea and in the shore will not be put to danger. I became a silent victim.
My name is Hermie, the Hermit Crab who belong to the crustacean; with about 500 different species in the world. Most of my types live in the ocean floor but many live in land. I am one of those who are land-based. I am a female and every time I breed I must return to the sea. I have ten jointed legs; the front two legs have large grasping claws called pincers or chelipeds and the rear pair of legs are very small. I have a sensory antennae, two eyes located at the ends of stalks, and a soft twisted abdomen which is hidden inside its shell.
We are harmless creatures but can draw blood out of your skin if ever our safety is endangered. We like dark places because we are a bit shy and we often use hard shells of other dead crustaceans as our protective covering. We have rigid exoskeletons that do not grow as we grow big. Thus, we should shed it off every now and then, as we grow bigger. This is the process known as molting. Any limb lost during the molting will be regenerated in time.
My story may not be so sad, but I want to give lessons to all that even a small creature like me and the rest of my kins have a right to live because we are part of a food chain that sustain life here on earth. I may be a victim of an oil spill, but I cannot claim any compensation, so I only hope that the government agencies that are responsible for rehabilitating our environment especially in the terrestrial areas of Taklong-Tandog Marine Reserve will do its sincere job to save what was left of my species. After all, there was an attempt to save me; it will become an assurance that the DENR will really do its job to return the normal situation in my place, your place, and our home.