CAN WE REALLY MAKE CHARCOAL FROM WASTE PAPER?

CAN WE REALLY MAKE CHARCOAL FROM WASTE PAPER?

For the longest time, paper has been treated as the “good guy” of waste—biodegradable, compostable, and generally harmless compared to plastic. And because of that, there has never been much motivation to recycle it. Unlike plastic bottles or metal cans, paper is rarely bought by junk shops anymore. When newspapers were still popular, “old news” was bought by the dangkal. Today, nobody wants your old newspapers—not even junk shops.

And yet, despite being biodegradable, paper still takes up space. A lot of space. Anyone who has tried storing used receipts, paper bags, envelopes, tickets, and packaging will understand what I mean. I once experimented by saving every scrap of paper I encountered—and within weeks, I found myself drowning in boxes of waste paper. I succeeded in collecting it. What I did not succeed in was finding a productive way to use it.

Paper-mâché? Yes, but the demand isn’t enough. Composting? Possible, but not always practical.

Then comes paper charcoal.

A simple idea, but a revolutionary one. One that, frankly, should have been invented a long time ago.

Paper charcoal—or paper briquettes—is made by shredding paper, soaking it to form pulp, pressing it into balls or blocks, and drying it until it becomes a solid, burnable fuel. And yes, it works. In fact, it’s already being done in some parts of the Philippines.

One encouraging example is at the University of St. La Salle in Bacolod, where Mr. Raymund Malapitan, together with NSTP facilitators and students, converts shredded campus paper waste into compact paper coal balls. Instead of ending up in trash bins and later in landfills, the paper becomes an alternative fuel—a clean, useful product. This is a circular design in action.

And it doesn’t stop there. Similar initiatives exist globally. In Zambia, for example, communities mix paper pulp with corn cob ash to make fuel briquettes, reducing the pressure on forests. In Mandaue City, DepEd schools have cooked rice using paper charcoal as a demonstration. Studies even show that paper charcoal can burn cleaner than wood charcoal, producing fewer harmful emissions.

But of course, it’s not perfect. Paper charcoal burns faster and with less heat than traditional charcoal. It needs to be thoroughly dried or it won’t ignite well. And scaling it up requires organized collection and cooperative production.

Still, the potential is enormous.

Just imagine: If barangays, cooperatives, and schools created small paper charcoal hubs, what would happen?
• We would reduce landfill volume.
• We would lessen the demand for wood-based charcoal, helping our forests.
• We would create new livelihood opportunities for poor communities.
• We would convert an undervalued waste stream into something useful and profitable.

This is not just recycling. This is community-based resource transformation.

The question now is: What will we do with this idea?

My hope is that cooperatives and livelihood groups will adopt it. That LGUs will support it. That schools and offices will send their shredded paper to production hubs. That entrepreneurs will innovate on design and create more efficient briquette molds.

For me, the next step is to monitor how this idea grows—where it takes root, and who benefits from it. If you know of any project, group, or barangay already producing paper charcoal, please let me know. I want to help amplify and connect these efforts.

After all, the best ideas are the ones that do not just solve a problem—they create opportunities.

And paper charcoal is one such idea whose time has finally come.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/08-08-2026

WHAT IS A REAL VIRTUAL ASSISTANT?

 WHAT IS A REAL VIRTUAL ASSISTANT?

That might sound like an oxymoron, but it isn’t. A “real” virtual assistant—despite the strange-sounding phrase—is, in fact, a real person. A breathing, thinking human being. The only thing “virtual” about him or her is the work arrangement: you don’t see them in your office, they’re not seated in the next cubicle, and you probably wouldn’t even know whether they’re in Makati, Malaysia, or Minnesota.

I am writing about this because of a recent—and very frustrating—experience with SkyCable. All I wanted was to disconnect my account. A simple request. But what should have taken five minutes took several days because I couldn’t reach a single human being. Everything was automated. Everything was menu-driven. And everything was rigid. No option matched my concern. No supervisor was available. No escalation path existed.

And this is where the problem begins: when companies rely entirely on bots.

Automation is useful—until it becomes a wall instead of a doorway.

I am not against artificial intelligence or automated chat systems. In fact, they make our lives easier in many ways. But the key word here is assist. Machines should assist humans, not replace them entirely, especially in customer service where empathy, judgment, and flexibility still matter.

This is where real virtual assistants come in.

A real VA is a remote professional—skilled, trained, and capable—who handles administrative, technical, creative, or customer-support work from anywhere in the world. The Philippines is already known globally for this workforce. According to industry reports, Filipino VAs remain among the most in-demand because of our hospitality, English proficiency, and problem-solving skills.

So why are some companies abandoning this advantage?

Why not offer the world a hybrid model: intelligent robots PLUS bright, friendly, adaptable Filipino VAs?

It’s the best of both worlds.

• Bots handle repetitive tasks.
  
  

• Humans handle exceptions, emotions, and judgment calls.
  
  

This creates better customer experience and sustains employment in our country.

Look at global trends: by 2028, the virtual assistant industry—human plus AI—is projected to reach over US$50 billion, according to Grand View Research. AI is growing fast, but so is demand for remote human talent because businesses still need real conversations, nuanced decisions, and tasks robots cannot yet master.

The BPO sector, one of our economic pillars, will only stay competitive if it evolves. Pure automation makes us replaceable. But a hybrid human-AI model makes us indispensable.

Customer frustration like mine should be a warning sign. When a customer cannot disconnect a cable account because no human can be found, something is wrong—not with technology but with the decision to remove people from the loop.

Virtual assistants—real ones—keep the loop human.

This raises more questions:

• Are companies trying to cut costs at the expense of service quality?
  
  

• Are they miscalculating the value of human intervention?
  
  

• Are our BPO policies encouraging a race to automation rather than a race to excellence?
  
  

My suggestion is simple:
Let AI do what it does best, and let Filipinos do what we do best.
We are good at understanding people. We are good at solving problems that aren’t in the script. We are good at making customers feel heard.

In this age of automation, the most powerful competitive advantage may still be the one thing machines cannot imitate: being human.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/08-07-2026

WHY ARE WE IMPORTING CACAO BEANS?

WHY ARE WE IMPORTING CACAO BEANS?

It is one of those questions we should have answered a long time ago: Why is the Philippines importing cacao beans? After all, cacao is not like apples or grapes—we can grow it. And we actually do grow it, especially in Davao, Agusan, and parts of Northern Mindanao. So why, in 2024, did we still import US$441 million worth of cacao and cocoa preparations?

The simple answer is this: Local demand is high, but local supply is low.
But the more important question is: Why are we not doing something big and serious to fix that?

THE REALITY: WE NEED MORE CACAO FARMS

Our chocolate manufacturers and food processors need huge volumes of cacao. Meanwhile, many of our farmers are producing only a few kilos per tree per year, and some still struggle with irrigation, pests, climate variability, and post-harvest quality.

Even worse, only a fraction of potential cacao-growing land is actually planted.

So yes, we import cacao because we don’t produce enough. But that should not be the end of the story. Why not increase production not only to meet local demand, but to build an export industry? If Ghana and Ivory Coast can dominate the world market, why can’t the Philippines, which produces some of the world’s finest single-origin cacao?

In fact, countries like Switzerland do not grow cacao at all, yet they are global chocolate giants. We produce cacao—why can’t we dominate the value chain too?

THE ROADMAPS ARE THERE—BUT ARE WE FOLLOWING THEM?

We already have the Philippine Cacao Industry Roadmap 2021–2025, extended into 2026–2030. These plans aim to:

• expand cacao production areas
  
  

• train farmers
  
  

• improve fermentation and drying
  
  

• promote fine-flavor Filipino cacao
  
  

• reduce imports and build an export niche
  
  

These are good plans. But plans are not enough. My biggest question is this: Who is monitoring whether these plans are being followed? How do we know if we are on track?

Are the roadmaps only about production, or do they include export targets and value-chain development? If we want to join the world market, we must think beyond raw beans. We must think of tablea, cocoa liquor, butter, powder, and finished chocolate.

LOCAL HEROES: NEGROS AND BICOL—BUT WHERE IS THE SUPPORT?

It is encouraging that Negros Island Region and Bicol Region are scaling up their cacao ambitions. Davao, of course, remains the cacao capital. But are these regions receiving the support they need from the Department of Agriculture (DA), the DA’s High Value Crops Development Program (HVCDP), the Bureau of Plant Industry (BPI), and DOST?

Years ago, Cavite had a thriving cacao industry. What happened to it? Did farmers shift crops? Were they unsupported? Did markets collapse? The government should commission a real study—not a seminar, not a workshop—to understand what cacao-producing regions actually need to grow sustainably.

WHAT SHOULD WE DO NOW?

Here is my straightforward proposal:

1. Expand cacao agroforestry
   Cacao thrives under shade. Plant it under fruit trees, native trees, and watershed reforestation projects. More trees, more cacao, more water retention.
   
   

2. Empower barangays and cooperatives
   Small farmers cannot do this alone. But barangay clusters, co-ops, and indigenous communities can manage cacao zones if supported by DA and DOST.
   
   

3. Invest in post-harvest
   Our biggest weakness is fermentation and drying. Without proper flavor development, beans sell for lower prices. This is where the government must step in.
   
   

4. Aim to reduce imports—and then export
   Why settle for import substitution? The Philippines can lead in fine-flavor cacao. The world already recognizes Davao cacao as among the best.
   
   

THE BOTTOM LINE

We import cacao because we do not produce enough. But this is a solvable problem. We have the climate, the land, and the people. What we need is commitment, coordination, and serious investment.

If we can turn cacao farming into a national priority—just like rice and sugar—we may soon reach the day when the question is no longer “Why are we importing cacao?” but rather:

“Why aren’t other countries importing cacao from us?”

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/08-06-2026

LET’S PLANT MORE FRUIT TREES IN OUR MOUNTAINS

 LET’S PLANT MORE FRUIT TREES IN OUR MOUNTAINS

If there is one idea I will never get tired of repeating, it is this: Let’s turn our barren mountains into giant orchards. Yes, we should still plant the traditional hardwoods—yakal, mahogany, narra—for our wood and paper industries. But why stop there? Why not plant lanzones, avocados, mangos, jackfruit, cacao, and coffee alongside them? Why not design our mountains as massive, diversified, multi-layered orchards that protect watersheds, generate food, provide livelihoods, and restore biodiversity—all at the same time?

This is not a romantic dream. It is a practical, national development strategy.

THE PROBLEM: OUR TREE-PLANTING SYSTEM IS FRAGMENTED

Right now, the Philippines plants trees through a confusing patchwork of agencies:

• DENR-FMB focuses on hardwood and softwood species for timber and paper.
  
  

• DA-BPI handles fruit trees, bananas, cassava, and other crops.
  
  

• DA’s High Value Crops Development Program (HVCDP) separately promotes fruits, vegetables, and industrial crops.
  
  

• Energy crops? Depending on the era, jatropha and palm oil have been tossed between DA, PNOC, and private ventures.
  
  

This fragmentation means that no single entity is thinking holistically about mountain ecosystems, watersheds, food security, and livelihoods together. Planting efforts overlap, compete, or fail entirely.

MY PROPOSAL: LET LGUs TAKE THE LEAD—WITH NGAs SUPPORTING, NOT CONTROLLING

I am not advocating for private orchards. I am advocating for massive public orchards on public lands, ancestral domains, and protected areas. But someone must be in charge—and in our current governance reality, LGUs are the best positioned to coordinate everything.

LGUs can:

• Map barangay watersheds and degraded slopes.
  
  

• Decide what combination of hardwoods, fruit trees, coffee, cacao, bamboo, and energy crops best fits each microclimate.
  
  

• Mobilize communities, cooperatives, and people’s organizations.
  
  

• Partner with FMB for forest species, BPI for fruit seedlings, and HVCDP for financing.
  
  

Most importantly, LGUs can legally grant co-management agreements to indigenous communities and cooperatives, ensuring stewardship, not abandonment.

WHY FRUIT TREES? WHY NOW?

Because fruit trees are not just “trees”—they are economic engines.

Each mango, cacao, or avocado tree is a micro-enterprise. A mountainside planted with fruit becomes a continuous source of income, not a one-time logging event.

And let’s not forget the watershed logic:
Roots prevent erosion.
Trees hold moisture.
Mountain orchards help refill rivers and aquifers.

This is how we protect the lowlands—by restoring the uplands.

WHAT ABOUT FOOD SECURITY?

Imagine if every mountain barangay produced its own fruits, coffee, cacao, and spices. Imagine how many middlemen we could eliminate. Imagine how many children would grow up nourished simply because the land around them bears food.

This is not new. Thailand has been doing this for decades. Vietnam turned its highlands into coffee and fruit-producing giants. Even Morocco transformed barren slopes into argan agroforestry systems.

WHO WILL MANAGE AND BENEFIT?

Indigenous tribes and cooperatives should manage these orchards. They know the land. They have the cultural mandate. And they need stable livelihoods far more than outsiders.

This is not a dole-out. This is economic dignity.

WHAT ABOUT ENERGY TREES?

Yes, we should integrate jatropha, malunggay biodiesel, biomass bamboo, and agro-waste biogas systems where appropriate. Fruit orchards can coexist with energy farms—and upland communities could eventually produce their own cooking gas and biodiesel.

THE BIG QUESTION: CAN WE DO IT?

Yes. But only if we stop scattering responsibility across agencies and start planting with a unified, long-term plan. LGUs must lead. NGAs must support. Communities must be empowered.

And we must start now, because every rainy season we lose more topsoil, more water, and more opportunity.

Let’s plant more fruit trees in our mountains.
Not just for food. Not just for income.
But because our future depends on rebuilding the green backbone of this country.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877292/08-05-2026