On the Road Across Mindanao

Normally I’m not a city person. I come in by necessity, and then I’m out as soon as possible to seek the peace, quite and beauty of the natural realm and to escape the noise pollution and overcrowding of the manmade one. But they have a saying in Davao, that if you try the local durian fruit, you will always come back. I decide to stick around for a few days, but not because of the fruit, which was oddly delicious and nauseating at the same time, but because I have a few friends in the area who I’d like to meet up with. I end up not meeting them at all, but while I’m waiting I get to check out the Philippine Eagle Center and the smallish island of Samal, which is a short ferry ride from Davao City, and a nice place to snorkel with impressive soft corals and the most leaf fish I’ve seen anywhere I’ve been. I’m also impressed with the overall cleanliness and friendliness of Davao, especially compared with Manila, which is the closest thing to hell on earth that I’ve experienced.

But as nice as the people in Davao are, I get tired of the hardware district where I’m staying, which smells of dried fish oddly enough, and I’m ready to check out the famous surfing island of Siargao, which lies to the north of Mindanao. So I catch an early morning jeepney to the bus terminal, and hop on a bus headed for Surigao, the so-called gateway to Mindanao. I mistakenly take a non-direct bus, which ends up stopping at every terminal in every small town on the way, as well as along the road for anyone who wants a ride. Physically it’s a very uncomfortable ride; no a.c., passengers crammed three by three into the seats big enough for one person of my size, and bad ‘80s music playing loudly and repeatedly. But it’s a good way to see and experience this huge island, as we motor more or less straight across the interior, bound for the northern tip.

As I’m suffering I take in all sights of Mindanao, which are the usual sights from most of the big islands in this country. It’s coconut trees, rice fields, distant mountains, nipa huts, tin-roof shacks, chickens and dogs, men playing basketball, wide and shallow rivers with big rocks and little pools with women doing laundry and people bathing, cars passing busses, busses passing trucks, motorbikes passing everything, tricycles overloaded with people, produce or wood, children everywhere. This being Mindanao though, there are frequent checkpoints, but we are never stopped, and they end up being sort of a slalom course for the driver. There are many military police about, on the side of the road, usually eating, sometimes sleeping, talking, laughing, always holding big guns. Usually when they see me they smile and wave, as do most of the people, especially the children, who are everywhere.

It’s beautiful country, green and lush. Everywhere there’s fields of rice, bananas, corn, pineapples, fruit trees. It’s all easy to grow, although the work can be hard for sure, especially in the rice fields. To be sure there are poor people everywhere I go in this country, but in the countryside, it seems like it’s easier, happier even. There the people are laid-back, relaxing, smiling. Whenever we pass through a small town, everyone’s hustling to sell something; a ride, bottled water, peanuts, pork rinds, roasted corn, cell phone minutes, fruit juice, dried bananas…anything. And so, without wanting to, I end up pitying the people in the city and identifying with the people in the country. Perhaps I do the same thing at home?

It’s a long, long dusty ride, but I enjoy watching the countryside go by and the different people who get on and off of the bus, endlessly. We pass through some striking scenery, some still forested mountains, a huge lake. There’s not enough passengers going to Surigao so I have to get off in a smaller town about two hours away, and a man from the bus pays my fare in a small van to my destination. We reach the terminal there and I jump on the back of a jeepney to ride through the dusty and noisy streets of Surigao, which seems to be full, overflowing, with tricycles. I’m too tired and dirty to wander around looking for a good, cheap hotel, so I settle for a good one, overextend my budget a little ($22 per night), take a heavenly hot shower and wander back outside. I skip straight past the hotel restaurant and find a road-side food stand, where I eat rice and longaniza (spicy sausage) for a dollar, then wander over to the boulevard, which runs along the northern coast. I wander around, turn down a few offers for karaoke, drink a few san miguels as I gaze longingly off into the distance, where I know my island destination lies. I stumble back to my room, and easily doze off, dreaming of perfect waves….cloud nine.

Monkey-Eating Eagles

Philippines, land of islands and wondrous creatures. It’s also home to more than 80 million people and counting, large families begetting large families, all with mouths to feed and heads to shelter. This is a country of tremendous natural resources being used up more quickly than you can say, “Wait a second,” and one of the hottest of the Earth’s hotspots, according to the experts. We’re talking about maybe 5-10% of the planet’s biodiversity, maybe a quarter of its coral reefs, plenty of unique species, and also some of the world’s worst environmental abuses and least environmental education. So, on my third trip here, I make it a point to see a few of its more interesting animals, while I still can, and do my small part to chip in some pesos to Filipinos working hard to protect their natural heritage, as well as to some of those who are just plain nice or hungry. I also make it a point to have fun, and try to remember as often as I can how lucky I am just to be able to come here.

So, I’m in Davao, largest city in Mindanao, which is either the first or second largest island in the country, but both Luzon and Mindanao are home to the last really viable populations of the Philippine Eagle in the world. Known to some as the Monkey-Eating Eagle, this is the second largest bird of prey in the world, and being on top of the food chain and all, needs sizable chunks of intact forest habitat to feed itself. Unfortunately, the Philippines has been seriously deforested, and what little remains continues to diminish at a quick pace. It is estimated that there remain only 400 of these eagles in Mindanao, due mostly to habitat destruction but also hunting.

Mindanao is also home to several separatist Muslim guerilla groups (including Abu Sayef and MILF), who apparently don’t like the way the country is being run, and choose to make their bases in the most remote locations in the country in order to avoid persecution by the national army. They have also tended to terrorize local people and visitors alike, making SE Mindanao and the neighboring Sulu Archipelago a big red zone and no-no for even casually cautious travelers like myself. As curious as I am about these groups, and as much as I’d like to go trekking in some of the last big forest tracts on this island, I don’t feel like pressing my luck, so I decide to visit the Philippine Eagle Center, which is dedicated to the conservation of the bird, other local birds of prey, and the preservation of their habitat.

The trip to the center from Davao by Jeepney (old WWII American jeeps converted into trucks for passenger transport and painted with any kind of colorful design often incorporating themes from American pop-culture like Elvis, Heavy Metal, or say Baywatch) takes about two hours, including a fifteen minute ride on the back of a motorbike. I learn that the center is also involved in protecting the local watershed and there’s a small forest sanctuary around the center of a few hectares. As I walk around learning interesting facts from the signage, I notice that all of the big trees have been adopted by individuals, local businesses, or organizations. I quietly think to myself that if individual trees need to be adopted then this country’s forests are in big trouble.

As nice as some of the big trees are, I notice that a good deal of the plants that are labeled have been introduced from elsewhere, and many are common household decoratives. Almost all of the eagles and other birds are in cages, as are the few other local animals, including a salt-water crocodile, a local deer, and a warty pig. A few of the birds must be well trained or unable to fly away because they’re allowed to sit outside on a branch or a metal perch. I also learn however, that they have successfully bred a few of the eagles here, and released them into large tracks of forest elsewhere on the island. Most of the birds have been rescued from one area or another.

I learn that the Monkey-Eating Eagle’s diet is composed of only 5% monkeys, whereas more than half of its food comes from flying lemurs. I wonder why it’s not called the Flying Lemur-Eating Eagle. But mostly I stand around and gape at these huge birds, which are truly magnificent looking, and despite being confined within these largish cages, still seem to be dignified and almost proud. They are quite huge, about a meter tall with a two meter wing span, enormous claws capable of tearing my face off I’m sure, and with the most interesting hairdo of feathers that jut out from the top of their heads like some kind of funk musician which jiggle when they move.

Of the more than dozen eagles that I count, only one seems to feel like flying, which he (or she) does so like clockwork, almost once every two minutes. He’s in a big, almost cylindrical cage, and I can tell when he’s going to fly by the way he stands before he takes off. I get my binoculars ready to get a good luck at him (the cage is about 5 m off of the concrete path). Even in this confined space it’s impressive to watch him, because his wings are so huge, but as big as the cage is, I can still hear the tip of his wing brush against the cage fencing as he does a big circle from his perch, around the cage, and back to his perch. It makes a light but very audible thwip-twhip-twhip-thwip, which, I think to myself, is the sound of a doomed species.

I have a similar feeling here as I do in all zoos I visit, which is a mixture of fascination, awe, and sad despair. I know the people here are doing good work though, and educating the populace, so I donate a little on top of the one dollar entrance fee I paid to get in. Still, I find it funny, in this country so full of quirks and wonderful oddities, that at the moment the terrorist groups Abu Sayef and MILF might be the most effective conservationists here, as they keep the general populace away from fear of kidnapping and violence. In my experience, the comparably few tourists in Mindanao and its neighboring islands (most stay away because of strong warnings from their embassies) make it one of the most enjoyable places to visit on my trip. It makes me wonder, if the United States continues to help the Philippine government wipe out their rebels, will it mean the end for the magnificent Philippine Eagle and the genuine welcome for the traveler in Mindanao? It’s an impossible question to answer perhaps, in this complex, interconnected world we live in…...

Philippine Dreaming

Ah, the Philippines. Pinoy Land; the first stop on my much anticipated trip through SE Asia, by virtue of being the closest and cheapest place to fly to from Palau. This being my third time here (being so close it's where I have taken my last two vacations), I'm familiar with the country's geography, people, customs, and language, just enough to feel comfortable strolling from place to place and at ease hopping from island to island. I'm coming from Palau, a country and small archipelago of around 500 islands, to P.I., comprised of more than 7,000. So many islands and such a bewildering array of possibilities can be a bit intimidating at first, but sometimes your choices seem to be made for you; by a chance encounter wth a local or fellow traveler, by the logistics of getting from point A to point B, or by intuition. In a way that is the idea behind my trip, and my hope is to see what happens when I loosen my grip on the steering wheel and let my path open up before me as it may.

So, I took a one way flight from Koror to Davao, which is the biggest city on the huge southern island of Mindanao, and one of the bigger cities in the Philippines. After staying up all night to catch my 5 o"clock flight, I was happy to be allowed into the country, and asked a cab driver to take me to a cheap hotel. As we drove into the city and cruised around seemingly in circles looking for a cash machine, I realized both with mild amusement and depression that most cities in the Philippines are so similar that it's easy to forget where you are. I ended up being dropped pretty much in the middle of the city, about a block from the wharf, and in the heart of the hardware district. After a few days of walking around the streets nearby, I realized that there were at least 50 hardware or automotive parts stores within about 4 blocks. I was told later that this was because the whole area belonged to a few chinese families, who liked to give little businesses to everyone in the family, so that there's always a kind of insurance that if one of the sons fucks up and blows all of his money on women, gambling and drink, the family business will go on. Anyhow I made it to my hotel, checked into my closet of a room, and passed out.

Waking up in a tiny room, wondering where I am, dreaming or dream-waking, waking-dreaming? Walking out of the door and down the hall and flights of stairs, realizing from the view of ocean and distant mountains, that I've switched countries, to a different reality all over again.It's afternoon. I'm dying of hunge and thirst, so I wander around the street looking for good food to eat, water. There's so much noise, brightly painted jeepneys and tricycles, buses and trucks motoring up and down, around the corner. People are everywhere, walking, crossing the street, dodging traffic, sitting against buildings, laughing, talking, staring, smiling, pointing. I realize I'm the only foreigner in sight, probably for blocks. People turn their heads to look at me, tell their friends I'm walking by, say "Hello" and "Hey Joe!" I smile, keep walking, try to avoid tripping on motorbikes and scooters parked seemingly everywhere, bins of cheap clothes, fruit, vegetables, dried fish, cell phone accessories, DVD's. Somehow it's mostly hardware though, every other store is hardware, sometimes there's three or four in a row, and they all have the same merchandise.

Finally I find a mini shopping mall, there's at least 50 choices of food to eat. I go to the cafeteria, eat alone amidst wide-eyed stares and double takes, shy smiles. Yep, back in the Philippines. I'm tall, white and handsome, Amerian looking (foreigners are all called Amerikano or kano, anyway) so everyone wants to be my friend, or at least ask me where I'm going. It's good to be back, and yet, strange. It's easy to forget Palau and home, for the moment, anyway. Normally I hate being the center of attention, and yet somehow I like the feeling of being different, unique, special. It never lasts though...and anyway there's plenty of special places here which I've come to see. But that'll have to wait, maybe until tomorrow or at least until I get used to this dream....