By: Elijah Jose C. Barrios
My complex relationship with seafaring began with a lie: to travel the world for free.
On our first day in maritime school, my classmates and I were made to believe seafaring would take us places unimaginable for a 15-year-old student. As someone from the province who dreamed big, I bought it. But after ten years of sea experience and a journey 360 degrees around the equator, seafaring gave me so much but took so many things away from me as well.
I lost loved ones while I was away from home. The pain lived with the fact that I was not able to say my goodbyes, not even a whisper of thanks before they were gone. Some colleagues are also hard to deal with. Like this captain who lashed out at me for four hours because I forgot to make him coffee. I never knew I would shed a tear in the navigational bridge, radars as my witness. There were also days when the work piled up like Tetris, and I had to be awake for 48 hours. My cabin was only three flights of stairs above me, but I couldn’t bring myself in because of busy port operations and inspections. I started seafaring when I was only 18. And before I even knew it, I was already an adult in orange coveralls.
But where I draw the line of whether it was all worth it is between me and the bigger world I’m a part of. While I had missed out on many occasions, such as Christmas parties, birthdays, graduations, and whatnot, I was having a unique experience at sea.
There were days when I would be overjoyed by the pods of dolphins freely jumping in and out of the water as the sunset. On nights, I would revel in the unobstructed night sky and appreciate the constellations that seemed bigger opposite the ocean. In many ports, I would have the most beautiful collection of photos for my Instagram. Funnily enough, in one port, I also got detained for two hours because it was illegal to take a photo. It was the element of the unexpected that colored my journey as a seafarer. I definitely never knew what I was going to get.
But what made me realize how generous seafaring is was this voyage from Columbia River to Manila Bay.
From a seafarer’s viewpoint, the voyage instructions were simple: load this amount of wheat from the USA and unload it in the Philippines. The process was also routine: prepare the holds, calculate for stability, conduct the loading operation, secure the cargo, and sail out. But while we were in transit to my home country, I came across the cargo documents. I realized the company chartering the ship was manufacturing my favorite snacks in the Philippines. What were the snacks made of? Wheat.
All of a sudden, I was a child. I was amazed because I became a part of bringing this popular food back home right before it was packed, more so, before it even arrived in our country. I never knew I would see this story out of a snack. Inside the red plastic of heaven goodness, along with the crackers and cheese powders, is a story of thousands of seafarers who tirelessly do their job so everyone around the world can get a bit of this and that. So, this is why we sail. This is why the world needs us: for every little child to taste the world and for every family table to have food.
My complex relationship with seafaring may have begun with a lie. But after a decade of understanding the industry, the truth turned out to be simple: we do not travel the world for free; we travel the world for service.