Two Davaoeñas

Davao is an ideal city template for the practice of unity amidst diversity. Besides the Visayan settlers who now compose the majority of the people in Davao, also present in the city are migrants from Luzon and other countries, as well as 11 ethnolinguistic groups: Bagobo-Tagabawa, Iranun, Bagobo-Klata, Kagan, Maguinadanaon, Maranao, Matigsalug, Ata, Obu-Manuvu, Sama, Tausug. Regardless of ethnicity, all co-exist and call themselves Davaoeños.

Our family has long considered a Bagobo-Klata family in Biao, Tugbok a katiwala for a farmland. My parents have supported two of their children until they finished college and work; another one is now in high school as she resides with my mother, who now needs constant company due to her frail health.

I also recall never having failed to visit yearly our Maguindanaon suki in Aldevinco when it was still standing along Claveria Street. I hope to drop by her branch in Poblacion Market Central soon.

My parents, on the other hand, arrived in Davao almost 7 decades ago; they are one of the early migrants in the city.

My mother migrated to Davao in the 1960s. Her maternal aunt (her mom’s youngest sister) was married to the city engineer of the city and offered to shoulder her college education. Over time, their relationship deepened like no other: my grandmother considered my mother her panganay among eight other children.

My mother, intelligent and always responsible as she is, finished college on time, passed her board exam in one take, was immediately hired by an employer, and eventually lived independently from her aunt upon marrying my father. My parents resided in Marfori Heights in the early 70s, making them one of the first homeowners of one of Davao’s earliest private subdivisions.

Since I was a child, I do not recall a year when we failed to visit her aunt and “make mano po” during her birthday, Christmas, and other special occasions. I am now based in Manila and have a family of my own. My mother barely walks around with a cane and is in her 80s, while her aunt is in her late 90s. But during each quarterly trip to Davao, I continue the tradition of visiting Lola. I do this on behalf of my mother: partly because of my Lola’s worsening heart condition, but mainly because she was such a joyful companion.

I visited her again on the morning of my mother’s birthday last June. I just took a cab so my aunt, my Lola’s all-time companion, offered to drive me home. It came as a surprise that she decided to bring my Lola along; she made her sit in the front seat. When we were near my parent’s home, Lola declared that she was hungry. Heeding the cue, I suggested out loud that she takes her snack in our house, and fortunately, my aunt obliged, much to my Lola’s delight. It was a sight to behold two bright-eyed grey-haired ladies carefully struggle to hug each other tight upon seeing each other again for longer than the length of the time of the pandemic. And no, my Lola didn’t just stay for a snack; she lingered. While holding my mother’s hand, she chatted with her panganay, knowing that this may be the last visit.

Their relationship sets a high bar for Davaoenos, known to value friendship and unity regardless of ethnicity. I have also just shared with you, my readers, a snippet of the immensity of the human condition, our capacity to love, smile, and be steadfast in tribulation, and to care and be attentive towards others in a time of sickness or health.