TAGUANAO : PLACE OF MY BIRTH

 

 

No one local place has earned for me both dismissive derision and then to close personal attachment in my life.  A place which as I kid, I couldn’t write out because I couldn’t spell it.  Was it Taghuanaw?  Or Tagwanao?  Or what?  We of course, now know its most accepted spelling as Taguanao.

With my very close but at times rascally cousins, I would be teased to no end with the “humbleness” of my birth.  You see I was born in that place during the last great war.  A place not only very rural and remote, but even quite unknown to even the locals.  The teasing would be constant and knew no bounds.  It evoked guffaws and laughter from listeners, thus was always quite an effective default joke during family gatherings.  Thus, the mere mention of the place came to be dreaded by me, and discussions on places of birth were avoided. But the puerile tauntings continued and lingered on. 

Because you see, once upon a time, my father’s family, members of some illustrious families locally, owned a vast tract of land in that general area, bounded on the west by the defining Cagayan River.  It must have been vast, since when the patriarch died and the seemingly borderless land was subdivided among the heirs, each still held quite a large tract.  Graciano A. Neri, youngest brother of my father, during our youth still had over 100 hectares of landholdings in that area.  It was huge and though not really mattering much in economic terms, it was an enviable place to go horseback riding and camping.

Anyway, however sketchy this is how I am able to piece together the circumstances leading to my humble birth.

When the war broke out and scary news about the atrocities of the enemy started filtering locally, harangued families started their mass “evacuation” to forestall the eventual coming of the feared enemy.  Families gathered together and sought refuge and cover in places which were familiar to them and for the rich ones, places they owned and controlled.  I am surmising that in the early war years, the family of my father force-marched to this vast landholding, intending to sit out the duration of the war in that secure setting.

When my time to be born came, I was told once that my father had to travel back to the city on horseback in the inky darkness of pre-dawn, to seek out the family doctor.  Given that I was fifth in the family, that doctor must have had quite an experience with our family.  And four more would come later.  Who was the doctor?  I wasn’t told, but from my mother’s mouth much later, the name of Dr. Emilio Dayrit was mentioned as the family doctor and assisted the births of those who came later after me.

Whether the doctor’s trek to our evacuation place was timely enough to assist in my birth, I was never told.

Thus, inauspiciously I was delivered into the world, amidst the heavy drums of war, in a place quite unknown even to the locals. 

BTW, the place was selected because there was a very nice secluded place with a constantly running underground spring providing fresh potable water.  And much later during our camping trips there I had noticed a little structure built close to the spring which had been adorned with a catchment area re-enforced with rocks on the sides.  This is now the site of the Lawndale spring which had all been cemented over as part of the Kagayhaan Resort of the city.

This dread of the place would be carried by me into adulthood.

Then we started visiting the place which during those times had no real access road leading to it.  So we went by horseback from Macasandig and followed paths that went thru uneven terrain.  As we neared the place, excitement grew because once we reached its clearing, a horse race was in the offing, allowing us to break the horses into a full gallop to reach the spring.

Those were exhilarating trips with close relatives which at times lasted a few days.  Even our aunt tugged along with us at times, but riding on a carabao instead.  We had been assured by our handlers that the carabao was more sure-footed than the horse and thus could prevent fatal falls into a deep ravine we had to pass through.

The memorable experiences started the change in my outlook of the place.  I began to have good feelings about the place, the place where I was born.

Then as our current modern times shaped up, it was inevitable that an exponentially growing city would start expanding every which way.  Access roads were built slicing through the huge area.  A bridge would be built spanning the river to the east.   In the process, precious archaeological finds would be reported on the bridge site, close to an old cave that dates back to pre-historic times.   And of course, human population started creeping into all corners of the largely untapped area.  Subdivisions, whether just simple cutting up of bigger areas into smaller lots or more involved ones, now dot the area.  Thus, complicated legal battles ensued, and would carry over to this day.  To a point that my cousins, the heirs of Graciano A. Neri, would sadly note that every piece of plot they possess in that area is now under legal question or litigation.

Today, Taguanao is as commonplace as any of the densely-populated districts of the city.  Not anymore some unknown locus from some faraway location.

But do we even know what kind of a political subdivision it is or how big it is?  It is not a barangay as I found out.  But since it is closest to the Barangay of Indahag I am betting it is part of it. If so, then is it a sitio of Indahag?

To this day, I never cared to find out.  Though there had been times when I would leisurely drive through and around it trying to recall familiar places or landmarks.  Even rode my new motorbike through it for a more physical experience, feeling the wind on my’s face and the power between my legs.

I even consider it now as an alternate route getting to our place in Kauswagan from the poblacion, when at times horrendous traffic jams would clog the regular bridge routes.

A case of a place too far, becoming one closer to the heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

500th Blog Entry

I never imagined that when I started this blog I could reach up to 500 blog entries.  But here it is.  At maybe two book pages an entry that’s like having written a full-blown book of a 1000 pages, albeit some stray entries are light-hearted, not serious to the point of being just inane musings.

Still, time was expended on each of them with corresponding efforts to have them self-edited and then published in the blog.

Why would anybody go thru such a wringer?  For what purposes?  Just a couple of stinging questions I have asked myself every time I felt the urge to commit ideas to words.

Self-aggrandizing motives I am sure are integral parts therein and there is no need to spend any more precious time finding out.  But I tell you that personally I have my most defined and avowed reasons for continuing to do so.

Writing these blogs have over the years been my alternative or counter-measure for sleeplessness, which unwanted condition has hounded me since I can remember.  In early HS I recall being almost in perpetual panicky mode trying to get some sleep for classes the following morning.  I would get to bed as early as past 7pm just to try to get my required 8 hours of sleep, tossing and turning inside my mosquito net.  Then when this failed I would resort to regularly changing the location where I got my sleep, from my bed to the floor on any corner of my room.  Most mornings I still woke up feeling deprived of enough sleep.  And this has been a life-long challenge under varying circumstances.  Nevertheless, it continues to this day.

But different solutions for varying circumstances has been the path taken or attitude applied.

Ever since easy and ready access to the Net has been made available to most everyone, it has been my unflagging companion to lull my mind away from sleeplessness, or the inability to get some sleep.  At the onset of any bout of sleeplessness, I would immediately position myself in front of the nearby PC or laptop and plug away.  And before I know it I have forgotten about my sleeplessness feeling ready and primed to try the sack again.  And this has been how many of the blogs were birthed and given lives of their own.

See, this entry itself was started at almost 11pm last night, after an attempt to go to sleep before 10pm had failed.

So now refreshed from last night’s interrupted sleep, another blog entry completed and down the hole.

 

 

How an odd-named Barangay called Moog came to be the site of Laguindingan Airport.

 

 

It was in 1964 that it all started per my best recall.  On that uneventful year I started my job as agency clerk with an Ayala group of companies all dealing with non-life insurance and reinsurance.  The companies were FGU Insurance Corporation, Philippine Guaranty Co. and Universal Insurance.  Being the only employee of the Cagayan de Oro Agency office, I was made to share some leftover space with another then very popular Ayala life insurance company, Insular Life Assurance.  We both occupied a good portion of the 2^nd floor of the Casino Kitchenette building along the corner of Tiano Bros. and So. Divisoria Sts., in front of the Rizal monument in Divisoria Park.

Suddenly one summer day, our office routines were upended with the arrival of a team of important-looking officials all sent by Ayala Corporation.  It turned out to be quite a high-powered team, when it was assembled in full force.  There were marketing people, a geologist, a lawyer, engineers, etc.  Some dressed ready to travel hard, noticeable by their Las Arenas cowboy hats, which were quite popular then.  Las Arenas was another Ayala company which operated from Davao and though I thought it was in agriculture, also produced those nice looking ten-gallon hats.  Many of us had them to parade around town.

 As far as I can recall, the team had personalities like Antonio Bangoy, Mario Camacho, a brother of Fr. Mondonedo, Mario Noble who joined later, and familiar faces whose names escape me now.  Like a burly and muscled gentleman who was an engineer, and who walked with a clear swagger.  But who was friendly, ever ready with his disarming smile.

This was the team sent by the Head Office with one critical purpose in mind. That was to purchase real estate in the then unheard-of place of Laguindingan, in the barrio of Moog.  As long-time city residents all we knew was that it was close to Alubijid and was indeed part of it at an earlier time.

So for the next several months, this hardy and busy team toiled aided by support team members who drove vehicles, or who knew the locale and the locals, or who were local legal eagles versed in the intricacies of real estate ownership under unique local conditions.

Countless sorties to the area were made, originating from our office which promptly became their local office and their contact station for communications to or from the central office.  Team members also promptly co-opted tables and chairs and office equipment from the regular office workers for their work.  And obscure me in my little corner was not spared.

As the months passed, the developing mysteries lurking in our minds begun to unravel.  So in due time we learned that Ayala group had gotten into a partnership with a Texas-based cement company to open up a local cement factory to rival the then existing cement factories in Iligan.  The new company was named Diamond Cement Corporation supposedly the same name as the US partner. Ayala was tasked with securing the appropriate real estate for its site.  The targeted areas in Laguindingan were found to be geologically ideal and perfect for such a factory, the soil being very rich in limestone.

There were both frenetic actions and discussions all centering around the selling and acquisition of real estate, with a cadre of lawyers making sure that documentation was proper and legal.  And in those idyllic days the price of real estate, especially outside the city limits was not that enviable, most of the land devoted principally to growing coconuts.   But the many landowners in the area found their golden opportunity to convert their inert and idle lands to ready cash.  So the rush to sell went unabated until there was not much more to sell.

After a year or two, just as quickly the kinetic activities tapered down as things imperceptibly went back to normal.  And I had in the meantime moved on to another pursuit, another job.

But just the same I landed in the lap of another Ayala company, this time their flagship company, Bank of the Philippine Islands.  Again the talk about the proposed cement factory surfaced.  And as I recall we did open an account under the name of Diamond Cement Corporation.  But just the same nothing much developed with regard to the proposed partnership with the US-based company.  Until some global disturbances brought out the news that the protracted waiting would end since the US company had backed out.

Notwithstanding, our banking relationship with the proposed company continued because after all there was some money to be made with the huge estate bought by the Ayalas.  Of course, just how big it was I never knew personally but I shall revisit this topic later.  Since the estate was planted to coconuts, the owners became coconut harvesters, selling copra as their product.

Some years later in the early 70’s, the head honcho of BankPI, Enrique Zobel had an airstrip made in Barrio Moog close to the ocean so he would be able to land his private plane when he visited the BankPI branches of Mindanao or when he went on his private leisure trips.  Like scuba-diving? And usually, officers of the bank would get the honors of picking him up from his private airstrip.

So fast-forward almost 50 years later and that site has become the newest airport, reputedly of international airport caliber, of Cagayan de Oro.  And auspiciously, we see the current head honcho of Ayala in the person of Jaime Augusto Zobel Ayala (JAZA) as one of the more important guests during the airport’s inauguration this week, and who appeared to be all smiles.

And why not! He has all reasons to be happy, not only for having opened recently the newest Ayala mall in the city’s downtown, but because its Laguindingan estate surrounds or abuts this newest airport.

So how big of a real estate goldmine is Ayala sitting on in Barangay Moog, Laguindingan?  The airport complex is listed as being contained in an area of 4.17 square kms. Or translated differently, about 400 hectares.   Now remember part of this was donated – presumably by Ayala.  So can we assume that the original estate of Ayala was about 1000 has. or about 10 square kms. at least? 

Is Laguindingan big enough to accommodate such a size?  Yes, its total area composed of 11 barangays is about 44 square kms.

So funny-sounding Barangay Moog has gained nationwide renown from this point on.  All because of a botched partnership, derailed by a global disturbance? 

Some Thoughts On The Last Local Election

 

 

Though not a complete and sweeping victory for the entire team, we have to be ecstatically thankful for we have removed the dreaded head. In our earnest and honest dream, we never expected to completely dismantle in one stroke the choking system of crony politics set in place over so many years.

But in a very real and revealing way, the locals showed better discernment and choices compared to the electorate in the last US presidential elections where the top candidate judged as underperforming in most critical issues was allowed to get re-elected largely on continued promises of better governance. And for this, we ought to be extra thankful.  And I am happy to be rendered wrong in my dire prediction.

With this very significant and auspicious though incomplete victory, those who suffered temporary setbacks in this election ought to bring the good fight into the next election so that the remaining roots of misgovernance still in place and thriving can be duly removed and replaced.  

Sadly, we note that this same malignant cancer has taken firmer hold in the rest of the province, where the son and his cohorts have co-opted victories in the many provincial positions.  Let us strike a blow against those who want to set in place political dynasties, with personal aggrandizement as primary objectives.   

But in the meantime, we are hopeful that the newly-elected mayor, who also rode on the coattails of these able and deserving but losing candidates, will allow them to show their mettle and competence with various positions in his new government.  If he had firm trust and confidence in their qualifications as his candidates, they should able to mesh perfectly in his upcoming administration.  Awarding such responsibilities would allow them to be known to more people and more importantly, afford them the opportunities to show what they are capable of accomplishing beyond the campaign rhetoric.  What real governance means, as compared to empty rhetoric or rich promises of some largesse in exchange for patronage.

We also see that locally we have not attained the hoped-for majority in the council. This would have ensured that the resonating voices of change could not be stymied or short-changed by those whose naked aims would simply be to insure failure for the upcoming administration. With the very powerful head summarily removed, these allies should be rendered powerless and exposed to the people for what they truly were, as simply footstools for a despotic ruler.

In the area of tasks, it is easy for us at this stage to dream of big dreams for our city and we truly deserve them for all the efforts expended to bring about this change.

But we have to be grounded in the realities to be faced.

It was with obvious seriousness of heart and gravity of voice, that I heard OCA mention during the campaigns that if he would win, he would be faced with a very grave problem that may not have any easy solutions.  It was the problem of illegal settlers or squatters that have spilled into and infected all parts of the city.  How they can all be equitably relocated and resettled.  Their numbers would include most if not all of those sidewalk/street vendors that we see in our markets, in our parks and public places, and in most other place where they shouldn’t be because their presence have caused us many of the problems we now detest.  Like chaotic traffic in our streets.  Deteriorated and neglected parks and other public places.  Unwanted increased criminality.  Etc.

This ought to have first priority and may consume the best efforts and resources this new administration may be able to muster for its initial tasks of rebuilding this city.

 

The Evolution Of An Unscripted Search For The Ideal Home

  

After a long dry spell, I finally found both the time and urge to create a new blog entry, if only to keep alive the memory and animo of a blog that was started several years ago.

What to write about?

Something that has always been in the recesses of my mind, but never expressed nor allowed to ease into the forefront of things.

What many might suggest as the reflexive answer to the oft-repeated question of what their ideal home ought to be.

As kids and wards of our parents, the whole bit about an ideal abode surely did not occupy our consciousness.  We lived with our parents, and lived we did in the house or houses they provided for us.  It was not our anointed lot to be involved in the process of choosing places to stay.  We simply lived – with them.  And liked it or not, that sufficed for our continued existence.

As we grew and acquired our own families, again that question may have been farthest from our minds.  Why, we were too busy trying to eke out a living to worry about ideals.  There were budgets to worry about.  Work opportunities that probably took us to places we detested.  But we went anyway because work was more paramount.  A no-brainer choice compared to unemployment which could bring one’s family closer to starvation or deprivation.

And years may have rolled faster than we could have imagined before the same question may even have crossed our minds, though it obviously will at one time or other since this frenetic world of consumerism and temporal ideals will not leave anybody in peace.  Alluring advertisements in magazines and on audio-visual media, and even like-minded friends and acquaintances will not let us alone.  And there is no escaping that, unless one lived solitarily and in the mountains.

So now leaden and gray, we are left to ponder about the question again.  This time a new alignment is in our stars, giving us time and space, and maybe some extra resources, to seriously explore the question.

What would be an ideal place to live – for you and the rest of your reduced household, as empty-nesters really?  Not when you were young and ambitious.  Not when such an ideal abode could have provided optimal solace and comfort during your difficult years of raising a growing family or dealing with the multitudinous pressures of work.  But at this present time.

Such is the issue at hand.

Chronologically retracing the places where we had resided and spent precious time with family could help develop a keen perspective not immediately fathomed if we resorted to other methods.

The first real place that our fledgling family could call our own home was an old and tiny half of a duplex located in the periphery of Nazareth Subdivision in Cagayan de Oro, the land of my birth.  Rented for the measly sum of 65 pesos a month, it was very decrepit, sewage was leaky and thus made the place looked very filthy and unsanitary, walls were flimsy thus privacy was compromised, and it was hot and humid, dingy and too small for any comfort.  But we survived it, me, my wife, and two kids.  Overall, it was farthest from what could be considered ideal by any measure.

Thrown far into a distant place in pursuit of a better employment future, we rented another apartment.  No better or worse than the first, but maybe a little bigger space-wise.  Made worse by very unreliable electric power, though made more bearable by kindly and very hospitable landlords.  Had recurring bouts of loneliness and strong pining for a more citified environment.  Which promptly disappeared only after that short stint ended.

We were back again to the old hometown.  And the search for an abode close to work ensued.  It was back to the periphery of Nazareth Subdivision, to another duplex which was small, but painted and brand-new.  The small lot on which the building sat was bounded in the back by the city cemetery.  Ugh! Overall, nothing to crow about or a resting place devoid of any redeeming value worth a moment’s remembrance.  Space again was inadequate made worse by the arrival of twins, which doubled the total number of kids.

Finally in desperation, we decided to opt for acquiring our own house.  Not that the family was now oozing with wealth or ease.  But it was the only feasible solution to our multiplying challenges.

It was then that the idea of an ideal house for a growing family became a possibility.

We had purchased on installment two (2) lots totaling over 600 sq. m. in a brand-new and ultra-modern subdivision situated in a prime location very close to the poblacion core where I worked.  Wow!  And 2 lots to boot!

But when construction finally started after a whirlwind of preparatory moves, things had changed drastically.

One lot had been assigned to a sister so she could also construct her own house beside ours.  Though the lot where ours would stand was over 300sq. m. it would be a one-storey duplex, one half to be occupied by my dear mother with our youngest and unmarried sister.

We did live in that cramped space of a house with 4 kids and the help for the next 5 years.  Not ideal but bearable, it was after all our own house.  The first house we ever owned.

Then it was family immigration to another country in our continuing search for better opportunities.

We ended going thru the same rigmarole as when we started as a family – first bunking with relatives, then moving to a flat and then to an apartment.

To finally our own house.  Any house that we could afford – without any consideration or thought about what would be ideal for us.  So we ended in an old house with 1200 sq. feet of living space.  Its sidewalls flushed to both neighboring houses, making the entire block looking like a row of fused houses. Individual backyards provided some breathing spaces or elbow room for the occupants.  And for the next 20 years we would call this home.  Not ideal, but safe and secure comfort.

Halfway into our stay there, it was realized that relocation to another place would do the kids still in school better – better environment for both schooling and neighborhood.  Again, a duplex was the choice, though now it was called a patio home.  And it had more space and more rooms.  The development of a few acres had its own main street and open gates.  Still looking like a cookie-cutter community made more so by strict rules on the color of the houses – which was one color.

After retirement, the empty nesters had more depth and breadth to their visions of where the ideal place to live would be.

Away from the frenzied pace of urbanized living, in a newly developed community which used to be a farming town. Finally we were in a detached single-family house with some yards, and lots of elbow room within its over 2500 sq. feet of living space.  Though still part of a cookie-cutter type of development, except a lot larger in acreage.

Then we had to move back to the old homeland, whether permanently or not is still a floating issue, wafting out there in the firmament of uncertainty.  All our kids and their families are still out there.

But could we now pursue and bring fruition to our ideas about what and where the ideal abode ought to be – for us?  Well, maybe somewhat.

We now live in a nice house that we had built for ourselves – with detailed specifications essentially originating from our perceived likes and dislikes.  Though it bore many construction deficiencies, it can pass as livable and comfortable.  The lot on which it stands is smallish, as subdivision lots go.  It is not far from where the first house we ever owned now stands, though the latter had been renovated and made a lot bigger.  But overall, our place could be made better – like maybe in a better location, with better climate, with more natural amenities, etc.

So maybe, this could be the answer.

 

 

Out there in the mountains with its very cool climate, with a babbling brook in the back and within earshot.  Away from the chaotic hustle and bustle of city life and annoying people.

So who knows what after all this is done and ready for occupancy.  The future holds many answers.

Because as ever, life is a continuing journey.  A work in progress.