The United States and Australia have come out with a Travel Advisory, discouraging tourists from coming to the Philippines, particularly Mindanao, due to its declining political peace and order situation. Yet, there at the 16th Mindanao Business Conference, held in General Santos City last September 21-22, 2007, we were introduced to Americans and Australians who put up grants for the development of Central and Western Mindanao, the areas where all this strife is coming from.
Whenever a bomb blows up in Zamboanga City or a Chinese businessman is kidnapped by the Abu Sayyaf, the media splashes the news all over the world. Unfortunately, they neglect to segregate which part of Mindanao is being quarantined. Instead, they generalize the area and just mention "Mindanao".
For those of us who are trying to make a living in Northern, Eastern and Southern Mindanao, that is bad luck. I experienced this firsthand in 1999, when the war between the MNLF and the MILF broke out. Our Queen pineapple for pasalubong was booming at the time but when the tourists stopped coming to Cagayan de Oro, our business lost its strength and thus began our downhill slide. We never regained our previous success. All because reporters failed to say "Western" Mindanao.
And these troubled times do not happen all the time. Look at what happened to us on our trip to General Santos. We got lost and ended up travelling through the most 'dangerous' (delikado) areas in Central Mindanao. Did anything happen that brought us closer to our deaths? No! That means, if you are not a public figure or having to do with the military or rich or a foreigner, or in layman's terms, a member of 5% of the Philippine population, then you will live a long and fruitful life in Mindanao.
So why can't reporters say, "The bombing occured in Marawi City, Central Mindanao" or "The ambush took place in Basilan, Western Mindanao"? Maybe Malacañang does not want to admit that their best-kept secret is actually a prosperous, thriving and very modern source of products and industry? And that, if only given the chance to come out and spread its wings, Mindanao will show the world the country it could be.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Where Does This Road Lead? (Part 2)
"When you get lost, the adventure begins." That was what Marie said when we left the concrete road for the dirty, unused and ungraveled one-lane track in the middle of nowhere. It was actually a secondary road, not even asphalted, but we were pacified by the intermitent sightings of the municipal distance markers along the way. Other than those, nothing could be seen except nipa houses and a few people walking. Nothing except the mountains in the distance and grass. Nothing except more road up ahead.
We were aware that we had somehow slipped into Muslim country and were being extra cautious with our actions. I don't know about the others but getting kidnapped or ambushed never crossed my mind. What DID make my heart stop a few times was imagining we were driving along this lane and then running out of gas. Or the van would stall and we would have to spend the night there. Or having to walk the rest of the way in the dark. But kidnapping? Nah! Who would kidnap us? We were just a bunch of ordinary people, not to mention the senior citizens, off to a city unknown to see the sights and to learn how to make some money. But this was one of the few times I really thanked God I made Edgar come along.
Because we had been driving for some time and not coming to anything, we decided to ask directions from a group of women dressed in going-out clothes. It looked like they were from a religious group making the rounds. But though we asked in Tagalog and Visayan, they did not seem to understand anything we said. It was even apparent that they were afraid of us. So on we went. Finally, we came upon a man standing at the edge of the road and were able to get somewhat better instructions--- just keep going until we reach the rotonda, then turn left. What he failed to mention, as most of the people we'd asked earlier, was HOW FAR the turn would be from where we were. In the end, the actual "highway" was so much further on, but what came in between was certainly an eye-opener for everyone.
The dirt track ended but in its place came an on-and-off concrete road with marshlands on both sides. We thought it was a lake with a road built in the middle, but we learned later that that place, called Lituasan Marshlands, was the depressed area of Maguindanao. We saw houses made of nipa and straw, about 5-10 feet square, standing on thin wooden stilts, with plywood as flooring, lining the concrete. Most of them were rotting on the bottom, and all were open (no doors or locks). Single windows graced the rear walls. From the road, we could see sparce belongings inside--- mats, blankets, plates, pails, buckets, a comb. Children, half-naked and naked, played in front of the houses while adults (if you could call those young women and men carrying babies) talked with each other. Some would watch as we passed by, but mostly we were ignored. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the poor houses disappeared and the road widened to accomodate six lanes. Suddenly, before our astonished eyes, was a partially developed city center complete with gas station and market place. And, before I could catch my breath, we were passing two high-walled compounds, both with buildings under construction. How high? Oh, about 30 feet high. What made them astounding? The mansions inside had roofs higher than the wall. Toto, our driver, enlightened us that those were the houses owned by the Datu, or royal families.
Now THAT is what you call the rich and the poor. I guess the "in-betweens" are the Muslims who migrated to Cagayan de Oro. And coincidentally, the town was called Datu Ampatuan, run by Governor Ampatuan and his son, Vice Governor Ampatuan. Coincidence?
At last, we found the Rotonda, a large blue marker with Islamic writing, but no road signs. As usual. We turned left and drove on through Sharif Aguak, Datu Abdulah Sangki, (Maguindanao) and into Esperanza and Isulan (Sultan Kudarat). After reaching yet another Rotonda, we finally confirmed that we had indeed gotten lost. Vinny insisted we take the road to Tacurong and after verifying it with a store owner, that is what we did. We arrived in General Santos City at 7:00pm, having breathed a collective sigh of relief when the roads carried cars, vans, trucks and whatnot from the opposite direction. And with cities and towns and PEOPLE--- Tacurong City (Sultan Kudarat), Koronadal City (formerly Marbel), Tupi and Polomolok (South Cotabato)--- we knew that we were now safe. Delayed by two hours, but safe.
(end Part Two)
We were aware that we had somehow slipped into Muslim country and were being extra cautious with our actions. I don't know about the others but getting kidnapped or ambushed never crossed my mind. What DID make my heart stop a few times was imagining we were driving along this lane and then running out of gas. Or the van would stall and we would have to spend the night there. Or having to walk the rest of the way in the dark. But kidnapping? Nah! Who would kidnap us? We were just a bunch of ordinary people, not to mention the senior citizens, off to a city unknown to see the sights and to learn how to make some money. But this was one of the few times I really thanked God I made Edgar come along.
Because we had been driving for some time and not coming to anything, we decided to ask directions from a group of women dressed in going-out clothes. It looked like they were from a religious group making the rounds. But though we asked in Tagalog and Visayan, they did not seem to understand anything we said. It was even apparent that they were afraid of us. So on we went. Finally, we came upon a man standing at the edge of the road and were able to get somewhat better instructions--- just keep going until we reach the rotonda, then turn left. What he failed to mention, as most of the people we'd asked earlier, was HOW FAR the turn would be from where we were. In the end, the actual "highway" was so much further on, but what came in between was certainly an eye-opener for everyone.
The dirt track ended but in its place came an on-and-off concrete road with marshlands on both sides. We thought it was a lake with a road built in the middle, but we learned later that that place, called Lituasan Marshlands, was the depressed area of Maguindanao. We saw houses made of nipa and straw, about 5-10 feet square, standing on thin wooden stilts, with plywood as flooring, lining the concrete. Most of them were rotting on the bottom, and all were open (no doors or locks). Single windows graced the rear walls. From the road, we could see sparce belongings inside--- mats, blankets, plates, pails, buckets, a comb. Children, half-naked and naked, played in front of the houses while adults (if you could call those young women and men carrying babies) talked with each other. Some would watch as we passed by, but mostly we were ignored. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the poor houses disappeared and the road widened to accomodate six lanes. Suddenly, before our astonished eyes, was a partially developed city center complete with gas station and market place. And, before I could catch my breath, we were passing two high-walled compounds, both with buildings under construction. How high? Oh, about 30 feet high. What made them astounding? The mansions inside had roofs higher than the wall. Toto, our driver, enlightened us that those were the houses owned by the Datu, or royal families.
Now THAT is what you call the rich and the poor. I guess the "in-betweens" are the Muslims who migrated to Cagayan de Oro. And coincidentally, the town was called Datu Ampatuan, run by Governor Ampatuan and his son, Vice Governor Ampatuan. Coincidence?
At last, we found the Rotonda, a large blue marker with Islamic writing, but no road signs. As usual. We turned left and drove on through Sharif Aguak, Datu Abdulah Sangki, (Maguindanao) and into Esperanza and Isulan (Sultan Kudarat). After reaching yet another Rotonda, we finally confirmed that we had indeed gotten lost. Vinny insisted we take the road to Tacurong and after verifying it with a store owner, that is what we did. We arrived in General Santos City at 7:00pm, having breathed a collective sigh of relief when the roads carried cars, vans, trucks and whatnot from the opposite direction. And with cities and towns and PEOPLE--- Tacurong City (Sultan Kudarat), Koronadal City (formerly Marbel), Tupi and Polomolok (South Cotabato)--- we knew that we were now safe. Delayed by two hours, but safe.
(end Part Two)
Where Does This Road Lead? (Part 1)
Whew! We just got back from a partly impromptu trip into Mindanao. ‘Partly’ because only the first part was planned--- we took an extra day to drop by Davao City on the way back. So all in all, we had traveled over a total of 7 provinces and 3 regions, in 5 days. Hectic? Did I mention that 3 of those days were spent in one place, General Santos City, attending the 16th Mindanao Business Conference?
So where did we go? We started from Damilag (Bukidnon) at 8:00am sharp. 'We' were Malou, Marie, her 83-yo father Rick, her cousin Vinny, my 75-yo mom Vacion, my husband Edgar, our driver Toto and myself. Making good time, we had passed through Maramag at about 11:00am. Having bought snacks at Jollibee Malaybalay, we decided to proceed without stopping so that we could get done with the 'dangerous' part while the sun was still high. By 'dangerous', I don't mean 'life-threatening', just "Be careful, and be on your toes to avoid mishaps." That particular stratch of road is located in Carmen District, the first town of North Cotabato from Bukidnon.
Our border-passing was uneventful, so much so, that we eventually observed a significant abscence of vehicles coming from the opposite direction. After about an hour of driving, we may have counted only 3 motorcycles. We were slightly mollified when Vinny, formerly with the Department of Tourism, explained that provincial buses usually take a break during lunchtime. However, when we finally reached the next town, Cabacan, we were stopped at a military checkpoint and informed that there had been an ambush up ahead. An ambush! So that's why there were no cars on the road! The ambushers must have closed off the area so that no other innocent people would get killed. How kind of them naman.
True enough, as we drove over the bridge where it happened, some policemen and mga osyosero were still milling about, not paying any attention to us touristang Japon, as we viewed the sight with awed, yet somehow unattached eyes. There were even unwashed pools of smeared blood drying in the sun. Gruesome? Well, I have the ability to place myself outside a scene like a spectator.
A moment of silence passed over the group. Which is probably the reason why we missed our turn. It was supposed to take us to a shortcut that would lead us directly to General Santos City. Instead we followed the road through Pikit and into Midsayap and took a left turn there. Then spying a large sign that said Bulaluhan, we stopped gratefully and had our late, yet hot lunch by the road. (Very delicious bulalo, btw. Note the name, Dana's Bulaluhan Atbp.) After the meal, we proceeded happily along the road and came to another fork. We asked directions and were pointed toward the left branch leading to Datu Piang. Wherever that was...
(end of part 1)
So where did we go? We started from Damilag (Bukidnon) at 8:00am sharp. 'We' were Malou, Marie, her 83-yo father Rick, her cousin Vinny, my 75-yo mom Vacion, my husband Edgar, our driver Toto and myself. Making good time, we had passed through Maramag at about 11:00am. Having bought snacks at Jollibee Malaybalay, we decided to proceed without stopping so that we could get done with the 'dangerous' part while the sun was still high. By 'dangerous', I don't mean 'life-threatening', just "Be careful, and be on your toes to avoid mishaps." That particular stratch of road is located in Carmen District, the first town of North Cotabato from Bukidnon.
Our border-passing was uneventful, so much so, that we eventually observed a significant abscence of vehicles coming from the opposite direction. After about an hour of driving, we may have counted only 3 motorcycles. We were slightly mollified when Vinny, formerly with the Department of Tourism, explained that provincial buses usually take a break during lunchtime. However, when we finally reached the next town, Cabacan, we were stopped at a military checkpoint and informed that there had been an ambush up ahead. An ambush! So that's why there were no cars on the road! The ambushers must have closed off the area so that no other innocent people would get killed. How kind of them naman.
True enough, as we drove over the bridge where it happened, some policemen and mga osyosero were still milling about, not paying any attention to us touristang Japon, as we viewed the sight with awed, yet somehow unattached eyes. There were even unwashed pools of smeared blood drying in the sun. Gruesome? Well, I have the ability to place myself outside a scene like a spectator.
A moment of silence passed over the group. Which is probably the reason why we missed our turn. It was supposed to take us to a shortcut that would lead us directly to General Santos City. Instead we followed the road through Pikit and into Midsayap and took a left turn there. Then spying a large sign that said Bulaluhan, we stopped gratefully and had our late, yet hot lunch by the road. (Very delicious bulalo, btw. Note the name, Dana's Bulaluhan Atbp.) After the meal, we proceeded happily along the road and came to another fork. We asked directions and were pointed toward the left branch leading to Datu Piang. Wherever that was...
(end of part 1)
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