July 20, 2010 was a significant date because it marked my 20th year of living in Davao City. Almost half of my life has been spent in a land that adopted me as its own; Davao has been good to me even though I, like many other Manileños, had pretty bad preconceptions about it. In the summer of 1990 my team of campus missionaries were invited to teach at a youth camp in Davao, and when I first learned of it I was dismayed. Of all places, I thought, why some god-forsaken place all the way in Mindanao? Isn’t there a war there? Aren’t people getting killed left and right? Is there even electricity there? I was so apprehensive that I actually tried to get out of going by exposing myself to chicken pox through a friend who had it.
On the day of our trip I was still as healthy as a horse, so I had no choice but board the ship for the three-day trip (plane fare was prohibitively expensive back then, especially for missionaries like us). The long trip only served to heighten my apprehensions, even though our leader tried his best to convince me that everything was going to be all right. When we neared the city I stood at port and viewed the city from afar. Not so bad, I thought. But then the ship made a U-turn and I was soon faced with an island so beautiful I literally gasped. It was full of coconut trees, surrounded by the whitest sand I had ever seen. That was the moment I fell in love with Davao City – although I soon learned that it was Samal Island, Davao del Norte that I had seen.
When we got down at the pier I marveled at how clean everything was, in stark contrast to the pier in Manila. I also remember breathing in the air and realizing that sea air actually smelled good: all my life I had thought the sea smelled of rotten eggs since that was my experience whenever I went to Manila Bay. We drove out of the pier and again I was surprised at how orderly, clean, and open everything was. And the people! Everyone was friendly and accommodating, quite unlike Manileños who were rude and unfriendly. Our summer camp was also a special time for me, and I could see how hungry the youth were for God’s Word. I actually imagined myself staying for a longer period in Davao.
And that’s exactly what I did. We stayed only a week here, but at the end of the camp I had already begun praying that God would bring me back. When God confirmed this to me in Manila I readily asked our leader to assign me here, and after a lot of explanations he agreed. I arrived on July 20, 1990, and save for a few months in 1991, I have never left.
Davao has been good to me. I found my wife here, I found my calling as a journalist and as a worship leader here. My two children were born here. And, to quote a professor-friend who also fell in love with the city, Davao will be “the land of my dying breath.”
Random Posts:
Nice article! I have lived in Davao for a little more than 8 years now, and I also love the place. I hope that in 12 more years I can write an article about my 20th anniversary of living in Davao City!
hi bob! thanks for the nice words. i follow your blogs also, and in fact my wife and i read your article before visiting fr franco uras in buda last saturday. mandy dinglasan brought us there, and you were part of the conversation as well
hoping to meet you someday. bobby timonera tells me your coffee is to die for
Thank you jnjqn – Fr. Franco is a special friend, a very nice guy! I haven’t been up to Buda for a while to see him, but hope to visit soon!
Really, Bobby T. is the one who has the best coffee! I am only one of his followers!
Let’s meet, any time! Maybe we can go have coffee or something.