They rise before the sun, work their hands raw, and ask for little in return. The farmers and fisherfolk in Eastern Visayas, who toil diligently in the face of economic hardships, climate change, and unpredictability, are the backbone of the region’s food security and economy. Yet, for too long, the very people who fill our tables remained to be under-recognized – and often, under-supported. 

In kicking off its 102nd Founding Anniversary, the Visayas State University (VSU), as a premier agricultural university in Eastern Visayas, celebrated the Farmers’ and Fisherfolks Day 2026 on April 27, 2026 at the VSU Gymnasium. In recognition of the unwavering perseverance and commitment of our primary producers, VSU presents the 2026 Search for Outstanding UGMAD Awardees. 

Before the names were announced, a region-wide search took place. Across the region, Local Government Units (LGUs) and various government agencies were asked to nominate the farmers and fisherfolk who truly stand out. It was a search for those who don’t just harvest, but innovate. Those who don’t just survive, but sustain. 

From this search, eight extraordinary individuals emerged. Through innovative and sustainable practices, they nurture the land and seas not only to feed the nation today, but to ensure that the generations of tomorrow will never go hungry.

Here are their stories:

For many children who watch their parents struggle under the sun, farming is not a dream – it is a warning. They see the calloused hands, the empty wallets, the harvests lost to typhoons. Jessie Abenoja was that child. He walked away from the land and built a life working for a private lending company, with no plans of ever returning. But passion is not always inherent. Sometimes, it is kindled by a single opportunity. When a training on vegetable farming was presented to him, the bashful Jessie grabbed it – hesitant but curious. And the rest was history.

Today, the once timid farmer from a far-flung barangay in Baybay City, Leyte, is the pioneering GAP-certified vegetable farmer in their area. He has also established a farm school, because he believes that the learning and earning opportunities that he has should never be kept – only shared. “Wala gyud nako gihuna-huna ang akong personal interes,” he says. “Kay kung walay mobarog ani, kinsa man…” He has poured his knowledge into his fellow farmers, fostering a community where agriculture is profitable, sustainable, and a privilege. One of his deepest dreams was simply a road for his community, “Mao gyud ni ang dugay namong pangandoy diri, nga magka-kalsada,” and he never stopped showing up until help arrived.

“Kini’ng farming, mao gyud ni ang pinaka-importante sa ato. Mangaon man gyud ta ug mga pagkaon.” To Jessie, farming is not a job. It is the thread that holds everything together. “Mo-abot ang time, maglisod ang kalibutan… nga dili gyud gihapon ta mawad-ag pagkaon.” He adds, “No farmer, no food, no future – mao may giingon.” He has seen the hard times, and he knows more are coming. But he also knows that as long as farmers till the soil, no crisis can empty the nation’s tables.

 

Martin Omillon will tell you himself; he used to be lazy. The kind of man who let hours slip through his fingers. Then he started jackfruit farming in 2014, because it was necessary. He had a family to feed, children to send to school. And somewhere along the way, the fruit tree changed him. 

Today, Martin looks back at the man he used to be. Jackfruit farming did not just give his familly an income, it gave him a spine. “Wa na ko kaayo’y time sa ligoy-ligoy,” he says. No more wasted hours, because his time now belongs to the farm and his duties at the jackfruit processing plant in Baybay City. “Ari nalang gyud aho,” he adds, almost surprised at his own words. “Love na nako diri ba ang akong kuan (farm).”

The transformation was not magic, it was many training sessions after. Martin was fortunate to attend many helpful seminars on jackfruit farming, and he absorbed every lesson. What he learned back then, still remains in his current practice – faithfully, stubbornly, without curing corners. His family reaped the rewards. They were able to save money, and sent their children to school. What started as a new venture became their reliable source of income.

But Martin does not keep his success to himself. He is open – even eager – to welcome other farmers into jackfruit farming. “Kung magplano sila nga mag jackfruit, moari lang sila mo-bisita lang sila dinhi, para matudloan pud sila, unsa’y angay nga buhaton… Pirmente andam (motudlo),” he declares.

There is no competition in his mind. Only the quiet understanding that a farmer who helps other farmers, lifts the entire community. And that, perhaps, is the truest harvest of all.

Rustico Lagera has been farming for nearly fifty years. He is 69 years old now, and he has never known another way. His farm in Brgy. Sta. Fe, Carigara is his only livelihood. Whatever rootcrop the market needs, he plants – Balanghoy, Ube, you name it. Through the soil, he sent his children to school and built his life in it.

But fifty years of farming also means fifty years of typhoons. Rustico has watched his crops get ravaged countless times – harvests ripped away before he could even sell them. Yet here is the quiet wisdom he has learned; not everything matures at once. His crops are never harvested simultaneously. So when one falls, another remains rooted and will stand thriving soon. The land has taught him patience, the typhoons have taught him resilience.

Now, at 70, Rustico notices something pleasantly different. Farmers have become more recognized, which seldom happened in his long years of farming. “Yana kinikilala na kami, nabubuligan na kami hin gobyerno… Dakong bintaha yana, mauro upay yana,” he says.

His message to the young is simple and urgent, “Siring ko hinin mga kabataan, ang mensahe ko ha iyo nga nagkikinarag kamo hin oras, ako diri gu ko nagkarag hin oras.” There was never a day that he didn’t work. “Bintaha an nag-uuma. Kay siring ko pa man, kon an imon uma sunod-sunod, diri ka nawawarayan kwarta.” He says it plainly, like a man who has proven it to himself for five decades. 

As a little girl, Sharon Jacaban always followed her father to his fishpond, not knowing she was quietly watching her future take shape. Now 45, and for 10 years now, she manages her own fishpond in Barangay Parina, Carigara, Leyte, where she cultures alimango, pasayan, bangus, and tilapia. But beyond being an aquaculturist, she is also a dedicated BHW, a parent-leader for 4Ps, and someone who never misses a training that could help her do better. 

In 2021, she was acknowledged and given assistance from the Department of Agriculture – National Fisheries Research and Development Institute. Nonetheless, Sharon’s farm was no stranger to challenges. Typhoons have ravaged her fishpond and swept away her harvests. But Sharon adapts and builds back stronger each time. Her aquaculture has carried her family through the years – sending her children to school, putting food on the table, and giving them a product to sell.

At present, she gives back by sharing what she has learned. She leads capacity-building initiatives for other aquaculturists and has trained over forty people, most of them women. This matters deeply to her because aquaculture is largely male-dominated; in fact, she was the sole woman nominated for this category. She hopes that changes. She wants other women to see her managing a large fishpond and think, ‘if she can do it, I can too.’

Mary Grace Reyes used to work in the corporate world, where her time was never her own. But in 2022, in the aftermath of the Covid-19 Pandemic, she decided to take a very different kind of plunge – into livestock farming, with no previous knowledge or experience. 

She started learning by watching veterinary doctors on YouTube, then she enrolled in training at the International Training Center on Pig Husbandry (ITCPH). These and her resolve became her foundation, and they are the reason her business stands strong today, even when African Swine Fever (ASF) swept through the region. 

What saved her farm was discipline. Mary Grace implemented a strict biosecurity policy which made her, her family, and her workers take a few sacrifices in their lifestyles. It was a sacrifice, but it bore fruit. During the ASF outbreak, her farm was the only one in their municipality that remained unaffected. “Kasi ‘yung iba natatakot, nag-stop sila,” she says. “Wag kayong matakot basta implemented lagi, strict talaga ang biosecurity.”

Now a bona fide farmer, Mary Grace has discovered something she never had in the corporate world – her own time. She can now spend quality moments with her family and with herself. Farming has given her that privilege. It has also opened doors to recognition, essential connections, and new opportunities she never expected. 

She remains always on the lookout for more learning opportunities – trainings that she admits are far more complex than she ever imagined before she started this journey. But she is not afraid – she never was. 

After Supertyphoon Yolanda devastated Eastern Visayas in 2013, Edgardo Bugarin went to the mountains of his home municipality of Kananga and saw something that broke him; not a single standing tree remained. That image stuck to him. He and his wife made a quiet decision then – to start planting trees. 

Edgardo admits he knew very little at first. Until he met different people from various  organizations, including VSU, and learned the importance of planting Philippine Native Trees. This lesson ultimately changed everything and shaped their unwavering advocacy today. In 2015, they started to establish what is now Titang’s Tree Farm, which served as a community hub for ecological preservation. For the Rainforest Hero, the biggest challenge has always been the lack of knowledge. And trainings from the Agricultural Training Institute as well as VSU gave him what he needed to handle challenges that came his way.

What makes his project unique is his goal to build a Riparian Forest – trees planted along riverbanks to prevent flooding in lowlands. It was a suitable initiative in the flood-prone Brgy. Sto. Niño, Kananga, Leyte, and after years of planting, the community itself witnessed the difference. 

Edgardo does not plant trees to earn money. He plants them to serve God, to protect communities, and to leave behind something that money cannot buy. True wealth, he believes, is not in a man’s pocket, but is shared prosperity in the community.

When the Saint Bernard Multi-Purpose Cooperative (SBMPC) opened on June 29, 2022, it was built on the promise of shared growth. But the problem was real but simple: farmer-clients would later arrive with bags of unmilled rice, but the cooperative’s dryers could only handle so much. On days when too many farmers showed up, SBMPC had to refuse some of them. But they found a solution within their own system – big traders who were also members could step in and buy the excess rice. The result – no farmer left behind.

That is the kind of cooperative SBMPC wanted to be; one that solves problems internally, quickly, and without turning its back on anyone.

For the branch manager, Efraim Dugaduga, the cooperative has done more that just move rice. It has moved lives. Livelihoods have been created for workers and managers alike. Various benefits have been granted. “Wa mi pasagdi pud sa Coop,” he shared.

Then came the Agri-Business Center. SBMPC built it specifically to help local farmers, especially because the market’s buying price of ‘humay’ was unreasonably cheap. Efraim did not even envision it as income-generating, just a helping hand. It was a hard fight at first to stand on that principle, but time eventually proved them right. Not because they chase profit, but because they are doing good work. And good work, it turns out, has a way of paying for itself.

Despite the skepticism towards Cooperatives being a stereotypically rigged system, SBMPC operates differently. “Kinahanglan nato transparent ipakita nato sa mga miyembro nga nitabang ta, unya nga maka benepisyo pud ang mga miyembro aron pud sila malipay,” the branch manager proudly shared. They live by transparency and good governance. They have nothing to hide and everything to show.

When Mario Marianito and a small group of fisherfolks in Brgy. Palarao, Leyte, Leyte established an association in 2022, they had little more than hope and a shared hunger for something better. They called themselves the Palarao Small Farmers & Fisherfolks Association (PSFFA). What started with eight to ten members, is now twenty-five strong. 

As the association president, the gratitude in Mario’s voice is unmistakable. Their “pagtatahong” helped educate their children and got them to survive these times when everything is hard and expensive. It has become their lifeline. 

Having limited knowledge at first, they did what any determined group would do – they strived to learn. Training after training, they showed up with empty cups and left them full. And because PSFFA leaves no one behind, every lesson learned was a lesson shared. Through their re-echo initiatives, knowledge trickled down to every member. This, Mario believes, is one of the reasons their association continues to thrive. 

But what truly makes them unique from the rest is their unity. No one is stubborn or unruly. Everyone has their own role and they work by it together. There are no walls between officers and members in PSFFA. If someone can help, they do so. Typhoons and red tide will come, that is life by the sea. But instead of dwelling on what they cannot control, they focus on what they can; rebuilding after every storm, and clearing the mangroves when the water is calm. The sea feeds their families. Protecting is not an obligation. For the Palarao fisherfolks, it is gratitude. 

“Mao la iton ako,” Mario says, “pirme la positive.” Stay positive. That is his only secret. A quiet decision made everyday to keep going. 

These eight UGMAD Awardees did not rise alone. Behind them are the LGUs and agencies that championed them, the trainings that filled their empty cups, and the communities that held them up. Their stories prove a simple but powerful truth: a farmer flourishes not only with the persistence to learn and grow, but also when backed by a system that commits to that growth. So may we continue to honor them, not just with awards and ceremonies, but with genuine support that reaches more communities, more fishponds, and more mountainsides where farmers plant hope. Because the hands that feed the nation deserve nothing less.