Against the tide: Filipinos battle rising sea on sinking island

This aerial view taken on July 7, 2025, shows cramped houses on Isla Pugad in Hagonoy town, Bulacan province, north of Manila. (AFP)
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Updated 18 September 2025
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Against the tide: Filipinos battle rising sea on sinking island

  • Study blames gradual sinking on overextraction of groundwater, exacerbated by rising sea levels due to global warming
  • Says concerted effort by world’s highly industrialized countries in reducing greenhouse gas emissions needed to address the rise of sea levels

BULACAN, Philippines: On the Philippine island of Pugad, street food vendor Maria Tamayo wakes before her grandchildren to begin the backbreaking work of removing seawater from her home scoop by scoop with a plastic dustpan.
The routine has been the same ever since the rising tides of Manila Bay began swallowing the island — a seven-hectare speck of land in danger of sinking completely underwater.
“Scooping water takes a long time. That’s why my feet have started aching,” the 65-year-old said, adding that she can spend up to three hours a day at the task.
“I have to scoop out the water before my grandchildren wake up, or else they’ll slip on the floor. But it’s no use ... there’s still water.”
Tamayo is one of 2,500 people living in Pugad’s only village.
The island is not the only one at risk in coastal Bulacan. Parts of the province are sinking at a rate of almost 11 centimeters (4.3 inches) a year, the fastest in the Philippines, according to a study led by geologist Mahar Lagmay.
The gradual sinking, known as land subsidence, is an “alarming” phenomenon caused by the overextraction of groundwater, and exacerbated by rising sea levels due to global warming, Lagmay said.
“The rates of subsidence (on Pugad Island) are quite high,” he said, adding that while studies specific to the tiny island were lacking, existing data on surrounding areas told the story clearly.




This photo taken on August 21, 2025, shows workers unloading sandbags at a construction site outside a church on a flooded street on Isla Pugad in Hagonoy town, Bulacan province, north of Manila. (AFP)

With high tides flooding the streets at least three times a week, the sea already dictates the rhythm of daily life on Pugad.
Class schedules are adjusted daily based on tide charts to prevent children from contracting flood-borne diseases.
Homes have been raised on stilts to keep floors dry, while small business owners use high tables to keep their wares above murky water that can rise to 1.5 meters (five feet) on heavy flooding days.

‘Back to normal’ impossible

Sea levels across the Philippines are already rising three times faster than the global average of 3.6 millimeters per year, and the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) has said this could accelerate to 13 millimeters annually.
“Sea level rise is being experienced in many parts of the country,” DENR geosciences chief Karlo Queano told AFP, warning coastal areas could disappear without large-scale intervention.
While piecemeal efforts are in place in some areas — groundwater extraction has been banned in parts of Bulacan since 2004 — a broad national strategy has yet to take shape.
A government study on the path forward was not expected until 2028, Queano said.
“I think it’s already impossible for our lives in the village to go back to normal because of climate change,” said Pugad village captain Jaime Gregorio.
Gregorio said roads were being raised every three years to keep the community viable, but leadership changes meant the implementation of long-term flood mitigation projects was rarely consistent.
For Tamayo, who has lived on the island her whole life, the constant adjustment to the tide has drained what little money her family has scraped together.
Since 2022, they have been elevating their house each year, adding more gravel and concrete to stay above water, so far spending 200,000 pesos ($3,500).
“I love this island so much, this was where my mom and dad raised me... but sometimes, I think about leaving because of the high tide,” Tamayo told AFP.




This photo taken on August 21, 2025, shows resident Raymart Tamayo (R) and his son Rodolfo (C) walking in the kitchen of their flooded house on Isla Pugad in Hagonoy town, Bulacan province, north of Manila. (AFP)

Her boatman husband, Rodolfo Tamayo, insists their livelihood depends on staying.
“We can’t go to [other places], we won’t have jobs there. We will go hungry.”
Lagmay, the geologist, said land subsidence could be reversible with effective government policies governing the over-digging of wells.
But addressing the rise of sea levels was impossible without a concerted effort by the world’s highly industrialized countries to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, he said.
A UN climate fund established in 2023 to help countries like the Philippines address damage caused by climate change, meanwhile, remains unimplemented.
“We are talking of climate justice here. We have very little contribution to climate change, but we are very affected by its adverse effects,” said Elenida Basug, the DENR’s climate change service director.
Crouching in the doorway of her flooded home, Tamayo urged the world’s polluters to take responsibility for what she and her neighbors were experiencing.
“We are the ones who are suffering... They are rich, so we cannot do anything. Even if we speak against them, who would listen?” Tamayo said.


How a Syrian refugee chef met Britain’s King Charles

Imad Alarnab, a chef and restaurant owner who fled Syria in 2015, works at one of his restaurants in central London. (AFP)
Updated 02 March 2026
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How a Syrian refugee chef met Britain’s King Charles

  • Alarnab, 48, said he had asked the king to come to the popular eatery when he met him at Buckingham Palace

LONDON: Pots clanged and oil sizzled inside the London kitchen of Syrian chef Imad Alarnab, as the former refugee who fled his country’s civil war recalled hosting King Charles III.
When the chef left his war-torn homeland in 2015, he never imagined that one day he would watch as cameras flashed and wide-eyed crowds greeted the monarch arriving at his Soho restaurant last year.
Alarnab, 48, said he had asked the king to come to the popular eatery when he met him at Buckingham Palace before an event honoring humanitarian work in 2023.
“I told him ‘I would love for you to visit our restaurant one day’ and he said: ‘I would love to’... I was over the Moon to be honest.”
The chef has come a long way since he arrived in London after an arduous journey from Damascus with virtually no money in his pocket.
Fearing for his life, he had escaped Syria after his family was uprooted again and again by fighting.
His culinary empire — restaurants, cafes, and juice bars peppered across the Syrian capital — had been destroyed by bombing in just six days in 2013.
Alarnab spent three months crisscrossing Europe in the back of lorries, aboard trains, on foot and even on a bicycle before he reached the UK.
“When I left, I left with nothing,” he told AFP, as waiters whirled past carrying steaming plates of traditional Syrian fare.
Starving and exhausted, he spent the last of his money on a train ticket to Doncaster where his sister lived.
“Love letter from Syria”
To make a living, Alarnab initially picked up any odd jobs, such as washing and selling cars, saving enough to bring his wife and three daughters over after seven months.
His love of cooking never left him though. In France, while he was sleeping on the steps of a church, Alarnab had often cooked for hundreds of other refugees.
“I always dreamed of going back to cooking,” he said.
So it wasn’t long before he found himself back in the kitchen, cooking up a storm across London with his sold-out supper clubs, bustling pop-up cafes, and crowded lunchtime falafel bars.
Alarnab’s friends gave him the initial boost for his first pop-up in 2017, and profits from his new catering business then covered the costs of later events.
He now runs two restaurants in the city — one in Soho’s buzzing Kingly Court and another nestled in a corner of the vibrant Somerset House arts center.
“I was looking for a city to love when I found London,” Alarnab said, adding it had offered him “space to innovate” and add his own modern twist to classic Syrian dishes.
Far from home, Alarnab said his word-of-mouth success had grown into a “love letter from Syria to the world” that needs no translation.
“You don’t really need to speak Arabic or Syrian to know that this is the best falafel ever,” he said, pointing to a row of colorful plates.
“There is hope”
For Alarnab, spices frying, dough rising and cheese melting inside a kitchen offered an unlikely escape from the real world.
“All my problems, I leave them outside the kitchen and walk in fresh.”
When he fled Syria, Alarnab thought going back to Damascus was forever off the table.
Yet he returned for the first time in October, almost a year to the day after longtime leader Bashar Assad was toppled in a lightning rebel offensive — ending almost 14 years of brutal civil war.
He walked the familiar streets of his old home, where his late mother taught him to cook many years ago.
“To return to Damascus and for her not to be there, that was extremely difficult.”
Torn between the two cities, Alarnab said he longed to one day rebuild his home in Damascus.
“I wish I could go back and live there. But at the same time, I feel like London is now a part of me. I don’t know if I could ever go back and just be in Syria,” he said.
Although Syrians still bear the scars of war, Alarnab said he had seen “hope in people’s eyes which was missing when I left in 2015.”
“The road ahead is still very long, and yes this is only the beginning — but there is hope.”