Davao City, I decided, had not changed much since the last time I was there. It still gave the impression of a largely rural outpost learning to become a city. I was traveling across town in a taxi. It was Sunday, the 13th of September. It had rained hard earlier in the day, but the storm had passed and the sun had emerged from behind the passing clouds. At almost 3:15 in the afternoon, it suddenly felt hot.
From the back seat of the taxi, I saw a familiar landscape of primitive, dilapidated structures used for dwellings and businesses alike and, then, around a bend in the road ... a massive, modern shopping center. It was, I knew, our destination, SM Lanang. It didn't look out of place, though. As the taxi driver and I approached SM Lanang, I could see a building complex like other SM malls across the Philippines. A massive, modern building sprouted from slums was the norm in this country.
The taxi came to a stop in front of the main entrance to the mall. I opened the vehicle’s back door, stepped out of the taxi, and was greeted by … Christmas carols. The music, “Silent Night”, emerged from speakers above the glass doors leading to the stores on the ground floor of the complex. The Christmas season, one learns, starts in September in the Philippines, not delayed, apparently, by other, perhaps inconvenient holidays as it is in the U.S., in which Halloween then Thanksgiving must be given their due. But, the Christmas carols were not unpleasant; after all, some shoppers must be helped into the holiday spirit.
I had come to SM Lanang for three reasons. First, I was having technical difficulties which prevented me from gaining access to the Internet with my computer. Second, I still had not gone to the supermarket to buy supplies for my rented house in Robinson's Highlands. Third, I had a meeting with my guide, who wanted to discuss our plan of action for the following day. I looked forward to going to a restaurant where I could use the Internet, eat a meal, and complete some important work at the same time.
On the escalator to the second level of the sprawling SM Lanang complex, a security guard, one of the ubiquitous guards who are stationed at the door of seemingly every business in the Philippines, approached. The young man dressed in his uniform of a white, button-down shirt with black tie, black trousers, and black shoes was accompanied by two older, casually but expensively dressed men. The conversation of the three men became distinct as they passed, with one of the two men saying to the security guard, “Mar Roxas wants to take care of you," and the security guard replying, “I’ve already received 500 pesos from him, but I’m not sure it’s enough."
The vote buying, apparently, had started in earnest in the countdown to elections for President of the Philippines in May of 2016.
My guide had suggested that we meet at Mesa, a contemporary Filipino food restaurant, at 3:30. The restaurant was on the ground floor of SM Lanang. I arrived a few minutes early, ordered a beer, turned on my computer, and succeeded in gaining access to the restaurant's WiFi network. I was relieved. Finally I could get some work done.
At 3:40, my guide arrived. We ate rice, vegetables, and chicken and prepared our itinerary for the following day. In the late morning, we would go to a barangay called Bangkal on the outskirts of Davao City. Here we would visit a man who lived with his family in a small house in a neighborhood called Royal Valley. In the late afternoon, we would return to the central business district of the city. Here we would meet a young, professional couple at a restaurant called Tong Yang Shabu-Shabu Restaurant & Grill on Sales Street.
At 8:00 in the morning, I awoke with a start, looked at my watch, and realized that I still had two hours to get ready. I had slept well for the first time in many days. It was Monday, the 13th of September. At 10:00, I heard a knock on the front door of my rented house in Robinson's Highlands. "The taxi is here." It was the voice of the guide coming through the door. I gathered my gear and left the house.
Inside the taxi, the guide and I sat on the back seat and looked at each other for a few moments. I think that she wanted to read any signs of trepidation on my face. Maybe she had doubts about my ability to accept the grim realities of life in Davao to which I was a witness.
It was true that I had not seen up close such large swings in quality of life, from one extreme to the other, since my trips to Africa and Latin America. The life of deprivation and loss lived by the vast majority of the inhabitants of the region was in stark to the life of abundance and comfort lived by a privileged few.
But any feelings I may have betrayed did not include shock or indignation. The forces at work were clear. The outcomes were not surprising. "As you know, Davao is still primarily rural," said the guide to me. "People who have a little money would rather own a small home for themselves in the countryside than live inside the city." Turning to the taxi driver, she said: "Royal Valley." The man set the car in motion, and we departed.
In the map below, you can see our point of departure, Robinson's Highlands, and our destination, Royal Valley, which is highlighted by the red shading.
The drive from Robinson's Highlands to Royal Valley was not a complicated one, but it was a long one. After passing through the main gate of Robinson's Highlands and turning right on to C.P. Garcia Highway, we proceeded on the highway in a westerly direction. We crossed the river and continued to drive west then southwest on C.P. Garcia Highway. The area was rural. Davao City was behind us. On either side of the highway lush vegetation spread toward the horizon. Here and there banana plantations occupied large plots of land. Fields of other, unidentified crops, carefully cultivated, stretched away from us in long rows.
Still following C.P. Garcia Highway, we now traveled due south, past the Shrine Hills, and, then, following the curve in the road, we moved west again, approaching General Douglas MacArthur Highway, or simply MacArthur Highway.
At the junction of C.P. Garcia Highway and MacArthur Highway, we turned right on the latter highway and, then, almost immediately, right again at the next, smaller roadway, called King's Road. As we turned right on King's Road, we entered Royal Valley. You can trace the route using the map below.
Passing through Royal Valley, I observed a community of two, distinct sections. One part revealed houses which appeared to be fully built, even expertly designed and constructed in some cases. In this part, we passed a large compound owned by Mayor Duterte's son, according to the guide, although it was not clear if he lived there. The other part displayed homes which gave the impression of unfulfilled dreams. The unfinished, rudimentary houses were either in a perpetual state of construction or in an inevitable process of disintegration. The some times dirt, other times pavement, often times jagged, uneven roads forced the taxi driver to move his car forward at a snail's pace. Finally we arrived at our destination, a house which was little more than a make-shift shack.
But it was the home of Fortunato and his family. As the taxi driver brought his vehicle to a halt in front of the small dwelling, a man emerged from the open, front door and came to meet us. It was Fortunato, a man of 55 years of age who worked 60 to 70 hours each week as a forklift operator at San Miguel Brewing Company, the supplier of the Philippines' national beer. His wife was not at home, he said, but a couple of his grandchildren were.
At that moment two small girls burst through the doorway and in our direction, screaming as they ran, but when they saw me they screamed even louder, turned around, and ran back inside the house. Fortunato laughed and said they were the daughters of his third oldest daughter, who also had a third daughter, a baby of 6 months. He spoke English well.
All of them lived under Fortunato's roof. In fact, a total of 10 family members lived in the house. In addition to Fortunato and his wife, their third oldest daughter and her three daughters, the four-room dwelling of 65 square meters sheltered his wife's younger sister, the sister's husband, and the couple's 17-year-old daughter and her own 6-month-old daughter.
Fortunato had come to Royal Valley, he said, at the subdivision's inauguration in 1998 and purchased his lot for 20,000 pesos, the equivalent of $425 today. He has been building his house ever since, whenever he has had extra money to purchase construction materials. For a man who has operated a forklift for 37 years, at last reaching a point at which he earned 7,000 pesos, or $150, per month, he has not had extra money on many occasions.
I entered the front room of the house and sat in a chair at a small table. Fortunato sat in another chair on the opposite side of the table and opened a 1-litro bottle of Red Horse beer. He placed one glass in front of me and filled it with the extra strong lager and another glass in front of him and filled it with the amber liquid. I could see vague shapes through the doorway into another room at the front of the house. It was kept dark, I deduced, in an effort to keep it cool. The guide was somewhere behind me playing with the children outside.
Fortunato had two bedrooms, he said, in addition to the room in which we were sitting and the kitchen at the back of the house. A bathroom was in a separate structure outside, behind the kitchen. The house had indoor plumbing, providing running water to the sink in the kitchen, and electricity for all of the rooms. But the whole neighborhood was subject to brown-outs, or regular periods of no service. The electricity would go out every day, Fortunato said, for 2 to 3 hours. He filled both of our glasses with contents from the large bottle.
His wife used charcoal for cooking, said Fortunato. She did not have a stove or a refrigerator. Every day she would travel by jeepney to Bankerohan market to buy the food which the family would eat for the day. Fortunato filled both of our glasses with contents from the large bottle one more time. It was hot. The beer was cold.
What created the most serious problems for the family, said Fortunato, were floods. Every year, during the height of the rainy season, floods inundated the entire neighborhood. In 2009, the floods were especially serious. That year the water rose to a level of 4 feet in height. The family lost important documents. The floors and walls sustained significant damage. Fortunato poured the remaining contents of the bottle of Red Horse into our glasses.
After the floods of 2009, the government responded with a series of public works projects to implement corrective action, said Fortunato. The infrastructure improvements have paid dividends, he said. Since 2009, floods have occurred only when the rains were so strong that they would cause overflows of water from the river at the back of the house, he added. Still, since 2009, the highest the water has risen has been just above the level of the ankle.
The guide entered the room accompanied by the two small children. She frowned when she noticed the empty, 1-liter bottle of beer in the middle of the table and two, empty glasses on each of its sides. "It's time to go," she said. "We have an appointment in the city." She walked to Fortunato, who stood up from his chair, thanked the man, and extended one of her 1,000-peso notes to him. He smiled broadly, accepted the money, and told us to come back any time.
Outside the house, the taxi was waiting. I realized that it was the arrival of the taxi which had prompted the guide to conclude our meeting with Fortunato. Inside the taxi, the guide asked how I was feeling. I felt pretty good. I admitted it.
The drive back to Davao City was peaceful. I thought about Fortunato and his family. They had a difficult life. But they also, it seemed to me, enjoyed life. I looked at the guide. She was writing in a notebook. I thought about our next stop. I knew that we were going to a restaurant which specialized in an assortment of grilled meats. I looked forward to eating the food. I was hungry.
We stayed on MacArthur Highway, traveling eastward. We crossed the river, approaching the central business district, proceeding in a northeasterly direction as MacArthur Highway merged with Quirino Avenue. We began to travel eastward again as Quirino Avenue flowed into Santa Ana Avenue. I could see the water of the Gulf of Davao in the distance. We turned right on Sales Street and arrived at the restaurant.
In the map below, you can trace our route from Royal Valley, on the outskirts of Davao City, to Tong Yang Shabu-Shabu Restaurant & Grill on Sales Street, in the heart of the city.
At the restaurant, I met Martha, 26, and Roquin, 27, in addition to Martha's twin sister, Marie. They were educated, professional, and sophisticated. Martha worked as a civil engineer for the government. Roquin worked as a manager at a bank. The couple had a baby girl. Every Thursday night, Friday night, and Saturday night, Martha and her twin sister, Marie, oversaw the activities of their staff at a bar they owned jointly in town. On the other nights of the week, the twin sisters relied on a bar manager.
These young people clearly were affluent in comparison to other inhabitants of Davao City. They clearly had opportunities in their lives that other members of their generation, or previous and subsequent generations for that matter, did not have. But they also worked very hard. I wondered how many like them there were in Davao City.
I hoped that the ranks of young, educated, professional, and sophisticated members of society were growing in Davao City, and in the Philippines as a whole. It would be a sign of an improvement in the socioeconomic well-being of a country traditionally known as the sick man of Asia.
It was true that other signs, most notably recent political and economic reforms in the Philippines, were providing new hope for many people. But, it was true, also, that still too many other signs pointed to business as usual among Filipino business and political elites. It was not clear that the traditional elites had started to feel sufficient pressure to allow real and meaningful change to a status quo which meant a high standard of living for a privileged few and deprivation and loss for the great majority.
After eating various grilled meats and vegetables at Tong Yang Shabu-Shabu Restaurant & Grill, we proceeded to a nearby fruit stand to eat the local delicacy, Durian. The fruit may be the most famous export of the region. Probably Davao will always be known for its famous fruit. Probably the city will always be a rural outpost.
