The ground shook again this week, and just like that, Kanlaon reminded everyone that it’s still awake. The Kanlaon Volcano eruption on April 7 wasn’t massive, but it was enough to send a plume of ash into the sky—and fresh waves of worry across Negros Island. For many, it stirred up fears that had barely settled since December’s eruption.
That’s the thing about living near a volcano, especially one like Kanlaon. It’s part of the landscape—towering and beautiful—but it also comes with risk. Locals know its moods, but that doesn’t make eruptions any easier to live through.
Waiting Without Answers
Hundreds of families were forced to evacuate in December 2024. Many of them still haven’t gone home. Their villages sit near the 4-kilometer Permanent Danger Zone, which remains strictly off-limits. That means weeks—now months—of sleeping in evacuation centers, depending on food packs and waiting for news that never seems to come.
Life in limbo is its own kind of hardship. It’s not just about physical safety. It’s about the things people leave behind: gardens, animals, memories, school supplies, even the family dog. Not knowing whether you can return—that’s what really wears people down.
April Eruption Adds to the Strain
Monday’s eruption was a sharp wake-up call. According to PHIVOLCS, Kanlaon ejected steam and ash up to 800 meters high. Alert Level 3 stays in place: anyone near the volcano is urged to stay away. (Official updates can be found on the PHIVOLCS site).
For those still in shelters, the message is clear: don’t unpack yet. Local officials are doing what they can—relief efforts continue, and health workers are trying to keep up—but stretched resources and fatigue are becoming visible. Some families are now quietly discussing relocation, especially those with young children.
No Easy Path Forward
Kanlaon isn’t new to this. It’s erupted more than 30 times in recorded history. But this cycle—two eruptions in less than five months—is hitting communities hard.
You can sense the exhaustion. Not just in bodies, but in spirits. And yet, there’s resilience too. You hear it in the way people talk about rebuilding, or in the way kids still find ways to laugh between tarps and folding chairs.
Whether the volcano rests or not, the people under its shadow carry on.
