Alone by the shore, waiting for a father at sea

GENERAL SANTOS CITY (MindaNews / 20 November) — Each time the waves crash along the shore of Barangay Lago, Glan, Sarangani Province, 23-year-old Jazel Cuyos thinks of her father somewhere far out at sea. Onboard a fishing vessel that could be days — or even weeks — away from home, he chases the fish that feed the family or survives storms that could swallow him whole.

Life by the shore in Barangay Lago, Glan, Sarangani Province. Jazel Cuyos shared this picture of her younger sister and a nephew.

The smell of salt in the air and the steady crashing of the waves have long marked his absence — and the weight of a family waiting.

“Kahilakon gyud ko sa una… Mag ampo lang permi nga unta kuyogan permi silang Papa, unta layuon sila sa sakuna ug bagyo, nga ma survive nila (I would cry back then… I would always pray that Papa and his crew be spared from disaster, that they be kept away from storms, that they survive),” Jazel said.

For decades, the sea has dictated the rhythm of her family’s life, measuring time in absence, worry, and fleeting moments of reunion.

A life shaped by the sea

In an interview with MindaNews on November 9, Jazel, a fourth-year English Language Studies student in General Santos City, spoke about her father, Joy Cuyos, 52.

She described him as a manlalawod, a fisherman whose life has been tied to the tides for more than half his years.

“Sukad pagkabata, mao na gyud na siya — kanang mamasol sa daplin, mamukot. Pero kana nga income, dili gyud siya igo para sa pamilya (Ever since he was young, he would fish near the shore and gather what he could. But that income was never enough for the family),” Jazel told MindaNews.

Joy married his wife, Lily, when he was 21 and she was 18, and together they raised three children. Even then, he was already a man of the sea, balancing the demands of fishing with the responsibilities of a young family.

As the catch in local waters grew less abundant, Joy joined fishing companies operating off Polomolok and General Santos in South Cotabato, Mati in Davao Oriental, and parts of Northern Mindanao.

Fisherman Joy Cuyos sits on his vessel under a dusky sky, one of the many months-long trips that keep him away from his family. Image courtesy of Jazel Cuyos

“Kung daghan silag makuha, after isa ka semana makauli na sila. Pero kung dili, usahay maabtan og tulo ka semana hangtud usa ka bulan (If the catch was plentiful, they could return in a week. But if it wasn’t, the trip could stretch to three weeks or even a month),” Jazel recalled.

Eventually, dwindling income pushed him even farther. Today, Joy works aboard foreign fishing vessels, trips that keep him away three to four months at a time, she said.

When local waters aren’t enough

According to Jazel, the income from local waters is often meager, and the effort can outweigh the rewards.

“Swerte na ka kung maka three-hundred [pesos] ka sa isa ka adlaw. Usahay magsuhol pa sila’g mga bata para isuroy ang isda sa balay-balay (If you fish in local waters, you’re lucky to make ₱300 a day. Sometimes, kids are hired to sell the fish around the neighborhood),” she said, describing how needing extra help can cut further into profits.

This difficult reality drives many, including her father, to work on international vessels, where pay and benefits are higher.

In 2022, the Sarangani government reported at least 20,899 formally registered fisherfolk and another 30,000 considered “marginalized” — making international work one of the few viable ways to earn a living.

“Maong naka-decide si Papa nga mo-apply sa international nga kumpanya kay mao ra gyud na ang paagi nga mabuhi mi, para mabuhi iyang pamilya (Papa decided to apply to a company that fishes in international waters because it was the only way to support us, to support his family),” she said.

A fisherman hauls tuna at the fishport in General Santos CIty. The fishing industry in this city usually sends big vessels to the high seas. MindaNews file photo by BOBBY TIMONERA

Woes of a fisherman’s daughter

Being the daughter of a fisherman, Jazel said, has always meant living with uncertainty. Each voyage her father took carried invisible risks — and for those left behind, the waiting was heavy.

“Lisod siya kung hunahunaon, dili lang financially… Lisod pud siya emotionally. Ang stress namo kay hunahunaon nimo si Papa, ‘Okay lang ba sila didto?’ Maka frustrate nga wala gyud tay matabang, mag ampo lang gyud (It’s not just difficult financially… It’s also emotionally hard. The stress of always thinking, ‘Are they okay out there?’ It’s frustrating that we can’t do anything; we can only pray),” she said, describing her worries.

In the early years, when her father ventured farther out to sea, the only way to reach him was through the vessel’s radio. Messages were relayed by an “observer” who would call Jazel’s mother and place the radio near a cell phone so fragments of his voice could reach them.

But during the seasons when her father did return home, the family’s worries would vanish — and Joy, literally, replaced them. Jazel likened those occasions to Christmas.

“Murag Pasko gyud ’to, kay lipay kaayo ko nga naa na siya. Literal gyud nga murag Pasko — kay magsabay mi’g kaon, magluto si Mama’g mga lami nga sud-an para niya (It felt like Christmas. I was so happy he was back. We would eat together, and Mama would cook special dishes for him),” she said.

Braving the tides

The sea shapes life in Sarangani in ways that are both dangerous and demanding — men like Joy risk their lives on unpredictable waters, while their families wait on shore, counting the days until their return.

The lessons Joy instilled in his children came from his own experiences at sea. As children, he often reminded them to finish school and avoid the hardships of a fisherman’s life.

“Si Papa sige ra siyag balikbalik og istorya sa akong kuya nga kinahanglan niya humanon iyang eskwela, makuha niya iyang degree, para dili siya mahimong mananagat pareha sa iya (Papa would always remind my brother to finish school so he wouldn’t end up being a fisherman like him),” Jazel recounted.

She added that her father also told stories of towering waves that rose higher than their house and of storms that carried the crew into Indonesian waters, where they were detained for months.

Now, when Jazel looks at the waves that once terrified her, she sees more than danger. She sees the resilience and perseverance of her father — and of all those who live by the mercy of the sea.

“Maskin kabalo siya delikado, pero nakita niya nga pwede siya maka income, nga mabuhi niya iyang pamilya — bahala’g delikado, kaya niya, para sa amoa (Even when he knew it was dangerous, he seized the chance to provide for his family — no matter the risk, he endures it for us),” she said. (Guia A. Rebollido / MindaNews)