A clam story

Landslides and floods caused by typhoon Igme battered Northern Luzon and wrought a lot of damage. Lives were lost, crops were drowned and the specter of a more difficult life beset its victims. Forest denudation has been blamed for spawning the floods and loosening the soil. Nature has demonstrated how it can retaliate for our abuses against it which can lead to widespread destruction and painful losses. Crop damage means less financial resources and ultimately, less food for the affected families.

Food is a basic necessity that many worry about. Evening news programs talk about increasing prices of fish, poultry, meat, and other foodstuffs. Coupled with this is the shrinking buying capacity of the peso. People with less money talk about belt-tightening and having to make do with cheap alternatives. It is only those with buying power who can afford to eat well.

"Eat well," however, has come to mean different things for different people. A recent trip with friends brought this fact to the fore. On a drive to Zambales, friends excitedly went to the San Narciso market in search of what they called mel-let, or taklobo. "You should try it," they said, "it‘s really good. And if we’re lucky, maybe we can get to buy turtle’s eggs too."

I was aghast. I knew they were referring to the giant clams or Tridacna gigas, the clams that the scientific community was trying to propagate in Bolinao, Pangasinan. It shocked me to find out that grown specimens were being harvested only a few hours away in Masinloc, Zambales. Having watched enough National Geographic specials on sea turtles, it bothered me even more to find out that pawikan eggs were available in the San Narciso market too.

The market was typical of those in a small town. The only difference was the unusual variety of seafood. There was a bloody four-foot yellow fin tuna that was being butchered and smaller piles of multi-colored fish. The catch of the day was undoubtedly fresh and they sold briskly. However, since we got to the market late in the morning, much of the fish were already sold. My friends were disappointed to find that there were only a few taklobo left for sale. To my relief, there were no longer any turtle eggs. Someone bought the whole bilao of the ping-pong ball-sized, soft-shelled eggs for P10 each. The vendor told us that we should have come earlier in the morning if we wanted first pick.

To say that I felt bad about the entire business of buying giant clams and turtle’s eggs is definitely an understatement. I couldn’t imagine that these people I was with were supposed to be responsible, educated individuals who should have known better. They were willing to pay top price just to be able to obtain the "delicacies." It was disappointing to watch them jeopardize conservation efforts in favor of their gullets.

Despite my objections, we left with the remaining two giant clam shells. "A bargain," my friends said. The shells cost P300 each. I resolved not to even taste the mollusk as a sign of protest.

The shells were forced open with a knife and the meat carved out. A greenish-black sac was removed and the white meat was sliced thinly and doused with vinegar to make kilawin. I tried not to look at them while I ate my grilled shrimp and dinengdeng stew of various leaves with bagoong broth.

The kilawin barely filled one bowl. The clams I had seen in marine center were the size of fingernails and I wondered how long the clams had lived on the ocean floor to reach washbasin-size. My friends dug in with gusto and the bowl of clam was devoured after only a mouthfuls. I tried to spoil their appetites by reminding them that the same clams they ate played a vital role in reef formation and reef conservation. They were greedily eating their way towards coastal erosion that comes as a result of the destruction of coral reefs. They laughed and answered, "Next time, we should go to market earlier so that we could get turtle eggs." It was disgusting.

I tell you this story to illustrate how, sometimes, our various appetites and cravings rule our minds and better judgement. Our need to satisfy clouds our ability to see the bigger picture.

On another level, deforestation could also be an indication of another kind of appetite – the economic kind – that leads people to log mountains and engage in destructive mining ventures.

However, as the flooding brought about by typhoon Igme has illustrated yet again, nature has a way of paying back abuses against it in kind. It is prudent to realize that we may be able to satisfy our immediate gluttony now, but will we be able to effectively predict when nature determines that it is payback time? Ultimately, nature’s backlash is swift and extensive. It results in poverty and excruciating hunger pains.

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