His surname means “forget” in Spanish, but anyone who gets to meet Casimiro Olvida is not likely to dismiss him easily. A Bachelor of Science in Forestry graduate from the University of the Philippines in Los Baños, “Mer” has the daunting task of overseeing a watershed reforestation program covering 7,500 hectares of land in the municipality of Maasim in Sarangani Province. That’s more than twice the size of Makati, and certainly bigger than the City of Manila.
“I was taking my PhD in Forestry also in UP Los Baños when a USAID (United States Agency for International Development) Program engaged me for a pilot project in Mindanao in 1995,” he begins. As junior consultant doing community-based forest management and land use planning in support of the Department of Environment and Natural Resources, Olvida acted as team leader on the ground to prepare the first ancestral domain management plan in the Philippines, which eventually became a template for the 2.2 million hectares of ancestral domain areas in the country.
His first assignment was at Lake Sebu in South Cotabato where the T’boli tribe dwells – allowing him to become immersed into the culture of indigenous people. It was while working on various USAID-funded projects with DENR and local governments in several areas in Mindanao that realization dawned: the challenge is far from simple.
To the uninformed, reforestation simply means preserving the environment by replanting trees in denuded areas. But the dynamic, apparently, is more complex. “As a forester, it’s not only technical details that you have to consider, but also the socio-cultural aspect. I saw that certain policies do not fit the reality on the ground, and the support needed by those below does not reach them,” he says.
One problem, of course, is the practice of slash and burn (kaingin), with people indiscriminately cutting and burning trees to sell for charcoal. “You can’t simply tell them to plant trees. Even if we teach them about sloping agricultural technology, how to plant in hedge rows or use contouring to prevent soil erosion, these have no value because it’s easier to cut a tree, or light a match,” he says.
“You have to change their mindset, and convince them to stop cutting excessively and spare natural trees that are hard to cultivate. So we would promote the planting of ipil-ipil and kakawate for firewood, fuelwood and charcoal so they won’t cut tree species like lawaan and yakal,” Olvida explains.
It was in the course of his work with USAID Project that he came across then-Governor Miguel Dominguez (a 2013 Ten Outstanding Young Men Awardee) of Sarangani to help the local government prepare a comprehensive land use and forest land use plan. Since Mer conceptualized the plan, the governor figured he would be the best person to implement it.
“I wanted to see the result of what I started so I agreed to get on board and supervise the forest land use plan implementation in Maasim, Sarangani Province, and it helped that Alsons Power Group’s Sarangani Energy Corporation (SEC) agreed to support the implementation through a watershed rehabilitation project that involves the development of 7,500 hectares of land within the Siguil and Kamanga watersheds, encompassing several barangays in Maasim,” he explains.
Under the plan, SEC, whose coal plant is located in the area, would support the planting of 3.75 million seedlings of various tree species and commercial crops by providing seedlings, financing, training on farming methods, etc. to give residents an opportunity to have sustainable livelihood, as earnings from the produce would redound to the families.
Yet it took three years of intense dialogue between the local government, the power company and the B’laan, the T’boli, the rebel returnees – before implementation began. One of the challenges of working with indigenous people is to identify the key leader and influencer because they could renege on agreements at the last minute.
What helped however is that Olvida took it upon himself to “eat and sleep with the people in the community, talk with them and share their burden. The first step in organizing is immersion, since 90 percent of the work is social preparation and only 10 percent would be the actual planting. You have to soften the ground first,” he says. Soon, the B’laan started going to Olvida for help, seeing him as a man they could trust, and made him an honorary datu (chieftain) with the name Datu Fulong Amtud Bulul or “brace of the mountain” – a father who is the pillar of the home.
“Perhaps they saw me as someone who could help them improve their living conditions,” he says, adding that the families that have joined the reforestation program now send their children to school and earn as much as P8,000 a month from the previous average of P1,500.
To date, some 1,200,000 seedlings covering 2,700 hectares have been planted, with about 500 families now participating in the watershed reforestation program. The work is far from over, but Mer Olvida is a patient man. “It can be tiring especially with all the traveling up the mountain, but I get my strength from the Lord knowing that I am helping them become good stewards of our resources,” he smiles.
