Last Thursday, during a press conference organized by the City Information Office, Dr. Antonio Obsioma, officer-in-charge of the City Agriculturist Office, issued a sobering forecast: a new El Niño phenomenon is expected to haunt us from the end of this year through the first quarter of 2027. Given the financial crises currently tightening their grip on the local economy, this natural phenomenon feels like a phantom—a looming specter destined to shadow us in the months ahead.
If we can mitigate the impact and prepare early, perhaps we might actually manage to sing the viral “hawak ko ang heat” with a grain of irony.
Levity aside, El Niño is a direct hit to food security, disrupting the delicate weather patterns essential for survival. The resulting droughts and punishing heat shrivel crops, dry up irrigation, and degrade the very health of our soil. For a world already grappling with economic instability, these “climate shocks” manifest as plummeted harvests, soaring food prices, and a dangerous dependence on expensive imports.
We need only look back to the “Super El Niño” of 2024 to see the wreckage. According to Philippine Statistics Agency data, agricultural output fell by 2.2%, with rice and corn harvests severely battered. Over 1.8 million families felt the sting, particularly in regions like MIMAROPA and Western Visayas. Locally, that event drove food inflation to 6.3% in April 2024, as the cost of fish and vegetables spiked, dragging the overall inflation rate up with them.
As of April 2026, we stand on the precipice of a repeat catastrophe. Experts warn that another strong episode could force record-breaking rice imports of up to 6.9 million metric tons just to prevent a national shortage.
For us in Davao, the 2024 episode was particularly merciless toward our high-value industries. DA-Davao estimated damages at roughly ₱203 million, affecting over 14,000 farmers. Davao City and Davao del Sur witnessed the heartbreak of shriveled cacao and coffee plantations—crops famously sensitive to prolonged dry spells. Meanwhile, Davao del Norte and Davao de Oro were forced into a “State of Calamity,” relying on presidential assistance to survive total crop failures.
In a rapidly urbanizing landscape, our watershed stands as our primary defense against this atmospheric “drying.” Areas like Talomo-Lipadas and Tamugan serve as massive natural sponges. During normal rainfall, volcanic soil and forest cover allow water to seep deep into underground aquifers. When surface water vanishes during El Niño, Davao relies almost entirely on these hidden reserves. A healthy watershed ensures that even during a six-month drought, the “sponge” holds enough to keep our taps running.
Beyond water storage, the watershed is a literal coolant. Large, forested tracts in Marilog and Paquibato act as heat sinks. Their dense canopy reduces the “Urban Heat Island” effect by maintaining soil moisture and transpiring water vapor. This process keeps our local micro-climate significantly cooler and more humid than the concrete-heavy downtown area.
While the city center utilizes groundwater, our upland agricultural districts depend on the Davao River. A degraded watershed creates “flashy” rivers—violently high during rain, but bone-dry during drought. We are all too familiar with this volatility, not just during the rainy season, but increasingly during the height of summer. Conversely, a healthy forest acts as a regulator, slowly releasing water into the river system over time.
As water levels drop during El Niño, the concentration of pollutants—silt, chemicals, and waste—naturally increases because there is less volume to dilute them. Here, the riparian zones (the vegetation along our riverbanks) act as natural filters, trapping sediment and absorbing excess nutrients. However, ongoing activities such as dredging and mining for sand and gravel threaten these zones, leaving our water supply vulnerable.
If we continue to sacrifice the Tamugan and Panigan watersheds to unchecked plantations or residential sprawl, we are effectively canceling our insurance policy. Without that natural storage, the next El Niño won’t just be a season of heat; it will be a period of absolute exhaustion.
For generations, the Davao River has been more than a landmark; it is the literal circulatory system of our city. Spanning 150 kilometers from the mountains of Bukidnon to the Davao Gulf, it sustains the agriculture that feeds us and the ecosystems that define us. Yet, in 2026, it faces a dual crisis of scarcity and systemic neglect.
The health of the river is inextricably linked to its 1,700-square-kilometer basin. Today, that “sponge” is fraying. Decades of land-use conversion and unregulated upland expansion have stripped away the vegetation that regulates flow.
The Davao River is a reflection of our civic management. If we allow it to become a polluted drain, we forfeit our city’s future security. As the heat of 2026 intensifies, let the drying riverbeds serve as a wake-up call. We do not just “use” the river; we belong to it. Protecting the watershed today is the only way to ensure that when the rains finally return, they bring life rather than disaster. Because in the end, that is all that matters.
