THE ELECTRIC RIVER FERRY IS HERE

 THE ELECTRIC RIVER FERRY IS HERE

At long last, the electric ferry is finally gliding along the Pasig River. Called the M/B Dalaray — from the Tagalog word daloy, meaning “flow of current” — this vessel is more than just another addition to our public transport system. It is a proud product of Filipino ingenuity, developed by engineers from the University of the Philippines Diliman with support from the Department of Science and Technology (DOST) and the Maritime Industry Authority (MARINA).

The Dalaray can carry 40 passengers and three crew members, powered entirely by a battery-electric propulsion system supported by solar panels. With a range of 45 kilometers per charge and a runtime of up to three hours, it represents a major step toward cleaner, quieter, and more sustainable urban mobility.

However, as proud as I am of this development, I can’t help but note that it took us a decade to get here. Norway launched its first fully electric ferry, the Ampere, back in 2015. Denmark followed in 2019 with Ellen. In short, we are about ten years behind. But instead of complaining, I’d rather focus on what we can do to close that gap faster next time.

A DIFFERENCE IN CONCEPT

The team calls it an electric ferry, but if you ask me, it’s more accurate to call it a Battery-Powered Vehicle (BPV). After all, it runs on stored energy that comes from solar panels. That’s an important distinction. An electric vehicle (EV) is only as clean as the electricity that powers it — and if that electricity comes from coal or oil-fired plants, then we’re just shifting emissions from the tailpipe to the power plant.

That’s why BPV design — with solar-charged batteries — makes more sense for the Philippines. Our tropical climate gives us abundant sunlight all year long. Why not use it directly to power our mobility systems? The Dalaray’s solar integration is what makes it truly sustainable. Without that, it would simply be an electric boat powered by fossil-fuel-generated electricity.

LEARNING FROM HISTORY

This isn’t the first time solar transport has been tried in the Philippines. Remember the Solar8 buses introduced by an Israeli company some years ago? They were ahead of their time — solar-powered public buses that proved the concept could work in our cities. Unfortunately, that venture didn’t last long, but it planted the seed for local innovation like the Dalaray.

The next logical step, therefore, is not just to stop at ferries. If UP engineers can design and build a battery-electric boat, they can certainly develop battery-solar cars, tricycles, and buses. Imagine our public transport system — from road to river — running on locally produced, renewable energy. That’s how we can finally cut our dependence on imported fuel.

A FLOATING SYMBOL OF HOPE

The Pasig River, once a symbol of pollution and neglect, could now become a corridor of innovation and sustainability. With more e-ferries like the Dalaray, river transport could ease Metro Manila’s traffic congestion, reduce emissions, and even attract tourists. It’s a clean, quiet, and scenic route connecting Manila, Makati, Mandaluyong, Pasig, and Taguig — cities long choked by road traffic.

Dr. Lew Andrew Tria, who leads the UP team, deserves commendation. So does DOST Secretary Renato Solidum Jr., who emphasized that this project “proves Filipino engineers can design and deliver technologies that serve both people and the planet.” That statement captures what we need to do as a country — make science serve people, not just sit in research reports.

NEXT STEPS

Now comes the hard part — commercialization. Too often, government-funded innovations end up as one-off prototypes, proudly launched but never mass-produced. If we want to truly make a dent, the DOST, UP, and the Department of Transportation should create a local production program for electric ferries and other BPVs.

Better yet, let’s bring the technology to the barangay level. Imagine small-scale solar-powered ferries connecting island communities, ferrying students to school, or transporting goods across rivers. Cooperatives could operate them, reducing fuel expenses and keeping income within the community.

With over 7,600 islands, the Philippines could be a global showcase for modular, community-scale e-ferries — if we have the vision (and the funding) to make it happen.

QUESTIONS WORTH ASKING

Can we build more charging stations along rivers and coastal towns?
Can we make affordable financing programs so that local operators can buy e-ferries?
Can we standardize battery technology across vehicles — from ferries to jeepneys — to simplify maintenance and supply chains?

These are not impossible goals. What we need is coordination, investment, and political will.

A FINAL THOUGHT

The Dalaray may not be the first electric ferry in the world, but it is a symbol of Filipino persistence. It shows that we can innovate with purpose and create technologies suited to our own realities. If we nurture this mindset — one project, one invention at a time — we may yet close that ten-year gap.

For now, let’s celebrate the fact that the electric river ferry is here — built by Filipino minds, powered by Filipino sunlight, and sailing on a river that, perhaps, is finally flowing toward a cleaner and brighter future.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com

09088877282/02-14-2026

TURNING SEWAGE SLUDGE AND FOOD WASTE INTO BIOGAS FUEL

TURNING SEWAGE SLUDGE AND FOOD WASTE INTO BIOGAS FUEL

Who would have thought that every toilet flush could one day power a bus? Yet that’s exactly what’s happening in Stockholm, Sweden — a city that has figured out how to turn waste into wealth, or more precisely, sewage into fuel. Through a process called anaerobic digestion, Stockholm now converts human waste and discarded food into biomethane, which fuels more than 3,000 buses, garbage trucks, and taxis. Every citizen’s toilet contributes to the clean energy that moves the city — a perfect example of how circular economy principles can work beautifully when guided by vision, science, and strong governance.

Stockholm’s system is both elegant and efficient. Waste from toilets and kitchens is collected and processed in oxygen-free tanks where microbes naturally break it down. The process releases biogas, which is then purified into biomethane — a renewable fuel nearly identical in quality to compressed natural gas (CNG). This biomethane is stored under pressure, pumped through dispensers at bus depots, and used to run Stockholm’s entire public transport fleet — all managed by Storstockholms Lokaltrafik (SL), the region’s publicly owned transit authority.

What’s even more impressive is that Stockholm’s transformation didn’t happen because of a national government directive. It was a local city initiative — a powerful reminder that sustainability often starts at the local level, not from the top down. The city saw two persistent problems — sewage management and food waste disposal — and solved both while cutting its dependence on fossil fuels. In doing so, it also reduced flooding risks by keeping organic waste out of drainage systems. That’s what I call strategic governance: one solution, multiple benefits.

Now, imagine this in the Philippine context. We have the same ingredients — waste and transport demand — but not yet the will or integration to connect the two. Should this kind of initiative fall under the Department of Energy (DOE) because it’s about fuel? Or the Department of Transportation (DOTr) because it powers mobility? My suggestion: let DOTr lead, since the end users — our buses, tricycles, and jeepneys — fall under its domain. Let DOE support with technical expertise, and let the Department of Science and Technology (DOST) provide the research and innovation backbone. That’s a three-agency synergy that could make things happen faster.

The idea of “flush-to-fuel” might sound futuristic, but it’s already being done in Barcelona, where the Baix Llobregat wastewater plant produces biomethane to fuel city buses, and in San Francisco, where the Public Utilities Commission turns food scraps and sewage into fuel for garbage trucks. All these cities use the same basic setup: high-pressure compressors, CNG-style dispensers, and buses fitted with safe, high-pressure fuel tanks. The technology is mature, safe, and available — all we lack is the local policy and coordination to implement it.

Here’s a thought: why not start small — at the barangay level? Each barangay could build a modular biogas hub, fed by public toilets, market waste, and even animal manure from nearby farms. The output could fuel barangay service vehicles, health center generators, or tricycles. The leftover sludge could be processed into organic fertilizer for local farming or tree planting projects. A single pilot project could demonstrate how waste can literally drive development.

Let’s also look at the potential savings. The Philippines imports over $13 billion worth of oil annually, a big chunk of which goes to transport. Even if 5% of our public transport could shift to biomethane, that’s hundreds of millions of dollars saved each year — and fewer emissions choking our cities. Plus, every liter of fuel we produce from waste keeps our pesos circulating locally instead of sending them overseas.

But beyond economics, this is about resilience. Floods, blackouts, and fuel shortages are all symptoms of a fragile, linear system. Turning waste into energy makes communities more self-sufficient. It gives barangays control over their resources and reduces dependence on volatile fuel markets.

It’s time we see waste not as a problem but as a renewable resource waiting to be tapped. Local governments can take the lead, backed by cooperative enterprises that manage and maintain the systems. Private investors could join through public-private partnerships, while schools and youth groups could handle education and awareness.

The question now is: what’s stopping us? We already have the waste, the transport fleets, the need, and even the technology. What we need is the political will — and perhaps a champion within the government who will say, “Let’s turn every toilet flush into fuel.”

If Sweden, a country with fewer people and colder weather, can make this work, surely the Philippines — blessed with warmth, creativity, and community spirit — can do even better. After all, what have we got to lose if it costs us nothing but our own waste?

Maybe it’s time to stop flushing opportunities down the drain — and start fueling our future with them.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com

09088877282/02-13-2026

LET’S PRODUCE MORE ANTI-SNAKE VENOM

 LET’S PRODUCE MORE ANTI-SNAKE VENOM

Every now and then, we hear of tragic stories — someone bitten by a cobra in a remote area, rushed to a hospital hours away, only to die along the way because no anti-snake venom was available nearby. Just recently, a seven-year-old boy from Davao de Oro died after being bitten several times by a banakon (king cobra). It is a story that keeps repeating itself in our countryside, and yet the solution seems simple enough — produce more antivenom and make it available where people actually need it.

The Research Institute for Tropical Medicine (RITM) already produces our own Purified Cobra Antivenom (PCAV), a life-saving serum that can neutralize venom from local cobra species. That’s a major achievement. But if PCAV exists, why are so many rural health centers still empty-handed?

At first glance, this could be seen as a distribution problem — the antivenom isn’t getting to the far-flung areas fast enough. But if we look deeper, it’s also a production problem. You can’t distribute what you don’t have enough of.

The Horse in the Room

The good news is that producing PCAV isn’t rocket science. The process begins with horses — yes, horses! These noble creatures are naturally resistant to many snake venoms, including that of the king cobra. When injected with small, safe doses of venom, their immune systems produce antibodies that can neutralize the toxins. These antibodies are then extracted from their blood plasma, purified, and processed into antivenom.

In short, horses save human lives — quietly, selflessly, and literally.

And here’s more good news: we have plenty of horses in the Philippines. The technology is already here, the expertise exists at RITM, and the raw material — horse plasma — is abundant. So what’s missing? Funding, coordination, and political will.

The Bureaucratic Bottleneck

Let’s face it — our health bureaucracy can sometimes be slower than a sedated python. RITM has the capacity and the scientists, but it depends on the Department of Health (DOH) for budget and policy support. DOH, in turn, must convince Congress to allocate sufficient funds for production and nationwide distribution. Somewhere in that chain, urgency seems to get lost.

Senator Raffy Tulfo recently called for legislation requiring all hospitals to maintain a minimum stock of anti-snake venom, following a fatal case in Isabela. But what good is a mandate if there’s no supply to begin with? We can’t legislate antivenom into existence — we must fund it.

If Congress could reallocate even a small portion of the billions spent yearly on flood control projects (many of which, let’s be honest, just vanish like water in the sand), we could easily double RITM’s production capacity.

The Rural Reality

As of now, the antivenom is stocked mainly in large medical centers like the Gov. Celestino Gallares Memorial Hospital in Tagbilaran or Don Emilio del Valle Memorial Hospital in Ubay, Bohol. But in the rural barangays — where farmers, loggers, and children are most likely to encounter snakes — there’s often nothing.

Imagine this: a farmer in Quezon or a boy in Davao de Oro gets bitten. The nearest hospital with PCAV is in Muntinlupa. Even if an ambulance comes, the victim’s fate is often sealed before arrival. We cannot keep letting geography decide who lives and who dies.

What Needs to Be Done

1. Regional Antivenom Labs – Establish at least one processing and storage center per region. Transporting plasma or venom samples to Manila makes no sense when snakebites happen in the provinces.
   
   

2. Barangay Emergency Kits – Equip barangay health centers with first aid kits that include PCAV, along with trained personnel who can administer it quickly.
   
   

3. Community Awareness Programs – Teach residents basic snakebite prevention and response. In most cases, delay — not the bite itself — kills the patient.
   
   

4. Inter-agency Collaboration – Let RITM handle production, DOH handle logistics, and LGUs handle storage and rapid response.
   
   

5. Private Partnerships – Why not engage veterinary pharmaceutical firms, universities, or even horse breeders to help scale up production?
   
   

A Matter of Priorities

If we already have the scientists, the horses, and the technology — what’s holding us back? Sometimes, it feels like lives are being lost not because we lack science, but because we lack urgency.

Snakebites are not rare freak accidents. The World Health Organization classifies them as a neglected tropical disease, with over 80,000 deaths globally every year, mostly in rural Asia and Africa. The Philippines, with its high incidence of cobra bites, is clearly in that danger zone.

Yet despite this, antivenom remains a low-profile budget item — overshadowed by headline projects like roadworks or flyovers. Infrastructure is important, yes, but how many lives does a road save compared to a vial of PCAV administered on time?

The Ultimate Goal

My wish is that no Filipino should ever die just because the nearest health center ran out of antivenom — or never had it in the first place. In fact, we should produce more PCAV than we currently need, so that every region can maintain a safety buffer.

We owe it to our people — and, strangely enough, to our horses — to make that happen.

Let’s not wait for another child to die in his mother’s arms before we act. Let’s produce more anti-snake venom — now, not later.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com

09088877282/02-12-2026