WHY NOT GROW QUINOA IN THE PHILIPPINES?

WHY NOT GROW QUINOA IN THE PHILIPPINES?

I’ll be frank: I’ve been thinking about how we Filipinos rely heavily on rice. That’s fine—but maybe it’s too much. What if we diversified our staples? Not just rice, but corn, sweet potatoes, adlai, cassava, potatoes—and yes, even quinoa.

I’ve eaten quinoa for years now as a substitute for white rice. I like its smooth texture. I also tried adlai—but I didn’t like it as much; to my taste it seemed coarse. The only thing I don’t like about quinoa is that it’s imported. Every time I spoon it into my plate I feel like I’m depriving Filipino farmers of a livelihood. And unlike rice (technically a grain), quinoa is a seed.

So here’s the question I keep asking: Why not grow quinoa in places where rice cannot grow? We already know where those are—the mountainous or highland zones in our country. Let’s pick those. For instance: the Cordilleras, Bukidnon, Palawan’s uplands, parts of Rizal province. Why not?

Yes—first try upland rice in these zones. If that fails, let’s pivot to quinoa. Because quinoa isn’t just some exotic import for health-conscious foodies. It might be an import-substitution strategy. And if we manage to grow more than our internal needs, export too.

Why quinoa, you might ask?
It’s not just because it’s trendy; there’s nutrition behind it. According to the National Nutrition Council (NNC) of the Philippines: quinoa is nutrient-dense, higher in protein than many grains, contains all nine essential amino acids, is intrinsically gluten-free, rich in fiber, minerals and antioxidants.
That’s a pretty good case for a staple or at least a significant component of a staple.

But let’s be realistic: quinoa cannot grow everywhere in the Philippines. So what are we talking about? Uplands. Cooler climates, better drainage, soils in better condition. If we consider the constraints and plan accordingly, I believe we can make it happen.

Here are the challenges—and why they’re worth tackling:

• Quinoa prefers cooler dry climates (classically the Andes). In our tropical lowlands with high heat and humidity it struggles. So it must be in upland zones.
  
  

• Soil: Well-drained, less acidity, perhaps higher altitude. Many Philippine lowlands might be too hot, too humid or poorly drained. So location matters.
  
  

• Seed adaptation: We’ll need varieties that are adapted to our conditions. Globally there are projects on quinoa breeding. For example, the International Center for Biosaline Agriculture (ICBA) recently reported that scientists identified DNA segments for key traits (early flowering, seed weight, low bitterness) which means breeding tailored, locally-adapted quinoa is more feasible now.
  
  

• Training & value-chain: Farmers, especially in upland barangays, need extension, support, market linkages. Without these, growing quinoa remains a niche product.
  
  

• Market & awareness: Imported quinoa is expensive. Locally grown quinoa may reduce cost, increase supply, and make it more accessible. There are already import-cost issues—one Reddit post noted quinoa is “mahal” in Cebu supermarkets.
  
  

Now, some suggestions (because I always come with suggestions):

1. Map out upland zones with cooler micro-climates: Cordillera, Bukidnon, certain areas of Palawan, Rizal uplands. These become “quinoa pilot zones”.
   
   

2. Partner with research institutions and government agricultural agencies to test quinoa varieties, soil suitability, trials.
   
   

3. Engage the farmers: training, seed sourcing, and perhaps subsidies or incentive schemes for early adopters.
   
   

4. Value-chain development: local processing, packaging, branding—“Filipino-grown quinoa” as a premium local product.
   
   

5. Dietary and public awareness campaigns: promote quinoa as one of the staple alternatives alongside rice. If I can live on it, others can too.
   
   

6. Policy support: Government can signal with incentives, perhaps support import substitution for quinoa, or allocate upland support for crops other than rice.
   
   

7. Link quinoa cultivation to ecological benefits: Upland cropping (like quinoa) may support soil stability, reduce runoff, control erosion in mountainous areas. So it’s not only food security, but environmental resilience.
   
   

Let’s frame some questions for us and for the policymakers:

• Why do we still push rice in every agricultural zone, even where terrain/climate is unfavorable?
  
  

• When will we accept that one staple is too risky for a country like ours with climate vulnerabilities, floods, typhoons, upland erosion?
  
  

• If quinoa can thrive in uplands where rice struggles, why not give it a chance instead of forcing rice everywhere?
  
  

• How will we support the small farmer in that upland zone to transition or diversify into quinoa (or other staples) without losing income or security?
  
  

• How will we create demand for locally grown quinoa so that farmer-investment is justified?

• I believe that growing quinoa in the Philippines is possible—if done smartly. We don’t aim to replace rice completely overnight. But diversify. We bolster food security. We use land smartly. We empower upland farmers. We reduce import dependency. We give our food system resilience.

Because every time I sit down with a bowl of quinoa instead of rice, I think: “What if this was Filipino-grown? What if this grain (seed) supported local livelihoods instead of imported supply chains?”

So here’s my call to action: Let us ask the agriculture sector, the research institutions, the local governments, the upland barangays: Why not grow quinoa in the Philippines? Let’s start the pilot. Let’s experiment. Let’s expand. Let’s diversify. Let’s future-proof our staple.

Because rice alone won’t always carry us—and because quinoa, at least for some upland zones, could carry us too.

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com

senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/05-10-2026

LET’S PROTECT OUR OWN PHILIPPINE FOREST DOG BREED

LET’S PROTECT OUR OWN PHILIPPINE FOREST DOG BREED

Who cares about protecting our very own Philippine Forest Dog breed? I do. And here’s why it matters.

I care because this dog — the Philippine Forest Dog (commonly called asong gubat) — is part of our heritage. I care because it is part of our national identity.

There is enough evidence to suggest that the asong gubat is linked to the ancient Austronesian expansion: our earliest ancestors arriving on these islands from Taiwan brought along dogs, and this land-race of canine may be one of those companions. It’s a living link to pre-colonial biodiversity and indigenous lifeways. 

What the asong gubat is
Yes — it is distinct from the more familiar street dog known as the Askal or “asong kalye”.

• The asong gubat is a primitive, indigenous land-race: evolved naturally within forest ecosystems in the Philippines, not imported from abroad.
  
  

• The askal is a mixed-breed, mongrel form — flexible, resilient in its own way, but not a pure heritage breed.
  
  

Because the asong gubat is endemic to the Philippines — that means it is found nowhere else in the world — its conservation matters deeply.

What makes the asong gubat special?

• Its origin is native: it has lived for centuries across forested zones in Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao, adapting to terrain, climate and human-community interactions.
  
  

• Unique traits: among the tales and reports: climbing ability, incredible agility, even reports of shedding of claws (yes, the claim is “claws-shedding”). 

• Cultural integration: indigenous communities have for generations valued this dog for hunting, guarding and spiritual roles.
  
  

• Reproductive and genetic isolation: some researchers claim these dogs reproduce primarily among their own kind, helping retain a distinct identity.
  
  

So what is the status of recognition and conservation?
The breed is being documented by the Philippine Canine Club, Inc. (PCCI) in collaboration with the Philippine Forest Dog Legacy Club, Inc. (PFDLC).
There are efforts to have it recognized internationally by the Fédération Cynologique Internationale (FCI).

So here are some questions and suggestions I pose:

• Why not put their images on our postage stamps? Imagine a special stamp featuring the asong gubat — symbol of Philippine biodiversity.
  
  

• Why not include them on coins or bank notes? Wouldn’t that elevate their status in the national consciousness?
  
  

• Why not teach about them in our schools — as part of biology, heritage, culture lessons?
  
  

• Why not protect them in the wild by empowering our indigenous tribes, mapping ancestral domains, designating these dogs’ forest habitat as sanctuaries?
  
  

• Why not build a community-led conservation programme that integrates ecology, culture and indigenous stewardship?
  
  

Because this is not just about a dog — it is about our identity, our environment, and our heritage. The asong gubat can become a flagship species for land-race preservation in the Philippines.

When we speak of “landraces”, we often think of plants. But animals too — when they evolve naturally in local environments, adapt to local conditions, and maintain genetic distinctiveness, they matter in the same way. The asong gubat is exactly that kind of landrace: locally adapted, genetically diverse (relative to modern highly-bred dogs), not the product of intensive human breeding but rather of informal, natural selection in forest ecosystems.

From a broader systems perspective:

• This dog is a bridging point between ecology, culture, indigenous knowledge and national identity.
  
  

• Protecting it means protecting habitat, protecting indigenous livelihoods, and protecting biodiversity.
  
  

• It offers regenerative potential — for communities, for eco-tourism, for place-based identity, for educational outreach.
  
  

Of course, some caveats:

• Some of the “unique traits” (claw-shedding, refusal to breed with other dogs, etc) are still not universally accepted by mainstream science — these claims exist in journalistic or folklore sources.
  
  

• Recognition by a major international body (FCI) takes time and rigorous documentation.
  
  

• Conservation in the wild means protecting forest habitat, preventing hybridization with mixed dogs, and securing indigenous community buy-in.
  
  

My suggestion for a roadmap:

1. Formalise the breed standard: through PCCI + PFDLC, define what makes the asong gubat distinct — appearance, behaviour, genetics.
   
   

2. Create a biodiversity registry: map where populations still exist (forest barangays, indigenous ancestral domains), engage local communities in documentation.
   
   

3. Legal/Policy overlay: seek recognition of the asong gubat as national breed, embed protection in legislation (perhaps via existing indigenous rights laws or wildlife legislation).
   
   

4. Community-led conservation: support indigenous stewards, provide training, integrate asong gubat in cultural programmes and forest-based eco-projects.
   
   

5. Education/Advocacy: include in school curriculum, campaigns, stamps/coins, national heritage branding.
   
   

6. Research/Genetics: partner with universities, perform DNA studies to confirm distinctness, publish findings.
   
   

7. Link to habitat conservation: protecting asong gubat means protecting forest zones, ancestral lands, ecological corridors.
   
   

In short: Our asong gubat is far more than a dog — it is a symbol of the Philippines, of our forests, of indigenous lifeways, of biodiversity and resilient heritage. Protecting it is a statement: we protect our own, we honour our roots, we invest in our future.

So let me ask you, reader: Are we ready to rise to the occasion? To look beyond the cute puppies of imported breeds, and value our own wild-heritage dog? To see it not as mere novelty, but as a national treasure? Because I believe we must. We owe it to our forests, to our communities, and to ourselves.

Let’s kick the ball rolling — put it in a postage stamp, show it, teach it, protect it. Because if we don’t, who will?

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com

senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/05-09-2026

ROBOTIC FISH CAPTURES MICROPLASTICS IN THE SEA

 ROBOTIC FISH CAPTURES MICROPLASTICS IN THE SEA

When I first heard about a robotic fish designed to capture microplastics in the ocean, I thought it was one of those high-tech science fiction ideas that cost billions and require rocket scientists to build. But as it turns out, the idea is remarkably simple—and refreshingly doable.

Meet “Gillbert,” a small 3D-printed robotic fish created by Eleanor Mackintosh, a student at the University of Surrey in the UK. Gillbert swims through the water like a real fish, filtering out microplastics—those tiny plastic fragments less than five millimeters in size that have now invaded almost every corner of our planet, from Arctic snow to human bloodstreams.

Unlike large, complex cleanup machines designed for floating bottles and bags, Gillbert focuses on the invisible enemy. It uses a gill-like filtration system that “inhales” water, traps microplastic particles, and releases the cleaned water as it swims. Think of it as a gentle underwater vacuum cleaner that never complains and never pollutes.

Now here’s what fascinates me most: this breakthrough didn’t come from a billion-dollar research lab, but from a university student with a 3D printer, curiosity, and purpose. I once interviewed a local drone designer who sheepishly admitted that his invention was built using nothing more than Arduino and Raspberry Pi components—tools so simple that even grade-school students now use them. This shows that true innovation doesn’t always need massive funding. It just needs imagination—and a bit of initiative.

So here’s a thought: if one student can build a robotic fish in her garage, why can’t our own universities do the same? Why not fund Technology Business Incubators (TBIs) in both public and private universities to develop Filipino versions of Gillbert? After all, the Philippines is an archipelagic nation—we have more coastlines than most countries on earth, and sadly, we’re also one of the biggest contributors to ocean plastic pollution.

If we are morally responsible for polluting our seas, shouldn’t we also take moral responsibility for cleaning them up?

Imagine building thousands of these robotic fish and releasing them into our coastal waters like schools of small, tireless janitors. Each one could patrol our rivers, estuaries, and bays—silently collecting plastic particles that harm marine life. We could even give them local names—Isdang Bayani, perhaps?

Of course, this raises practical questions: Which agency should take the lead? The DOST could spearhead the research and development. The DENR could integrate it into marine cleanup programs. The Philippine Coast Guard could deploy them, and the Philippine Navy could manage offshore operations. We could even link this effort with barangay-level environmental patrols and youth STEM programs to get students involved in designing, maintaining, and deploying the bots.

This idea fits perfectly into what I call “circular design”—where technology, community participation, and sustainability all loop together. Instead of treating waste as waste, we turn it into opportunity. Collected microplastics could be processed into eco-bricks, recycled tiles, or even artisan products.

Interestingly, China has also developed its own version of a robotic fish—just 13 millimeters long—made from a flexible, pearl-like material that’s powered by light, not batteries. It swims autonomously, collects microplastics magnetically, and could one day work in swarms to clean deeper waters. Between the British and Chinese prototypes, the world now has at least two working models proving that this concept is viable.

But I’m not suggesting we just copy these designs. Filipinos are natural tinkerers—we can improve them, tropicalize them, and make them cheaper. With our pool of local engineers, robotics students, and makerspaces, we could even integrate sensors that track pollution data in real time. Imagine a national “Digital Ocean Map” showing which areas have the highest concentrations of microplastics, updated live by fleets of robotic fish built by our own people.

Microplastics are now in our fish, salt, and drinking water. According to the World Health Organization, the long-term health effects are still unknown, but studies already link them to inflammation, hormonal disruption, and potential carcinogens. In short, they’re not just an environmental issue—they’re a public health issue.

That’s why this invention is so important: it’s not just a machine—it’s a symbol of accountability. It reminds us that small, simple innovations can tackle massive, complex problems.

So here’s my challenge to our policymakers and universities: instead of spending millions on imported solutions, let’s build our own robotic fish. Fund local inventors, engage students, and deploy technology that makes both scientific and moral sense.

We often talk about cleaning our beaches. Maybe it’s time we start cleaning our waters—from the inside out. And maybe, just maybe, it will be robotic fish—not politicians—that save our seas.

Isang Bayan, Isang Kabuhayan. Isang Dagat, Isang Kinabukasan.

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com

senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/05-08-2026