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ENGLISH by Macario D. Tiu Mac Tiu is professor of history at the Ateneo de Davao University and editor of the University journal Tambara. |
RESEARCH
REPORT Research conducted under the CSEAS project “Everyday Life and Border Policing in the Wallachea Region,” funded by the Japan Society for the Promotion of the Sciences (JSPS). Introduction Indonesia’s Sangihe Island chain lies directly south of the southern Philippines’ Sarangani Islands. From the point of view of the Sangils, the Philippines is not merely a neighboring country. Many Sangils have relatives in southern Mindanao, whom they are accustomed to visit by entering and leaving (mosulod ug mogawas) the Philippines without documents. In the past, the Sangihe Islands had very close political links with southern Mindanao, particularly with the Buayan sultanate, a matter still remembered by ancient Sangil families in Davao del Sur. These old Sangil families can relate genealogies that go back several centuries, some pointing to connections with Maguindanao or Buayan royalty. Among the names that crop up in the genealogies are Kadjamu, Sansialam, and Makabarat, historical figures who appear in Dutch records and are mentioned in Majul’s Muslims in the Philippines (1973). A quick comparison with other sources shows errors in these genealogies, but they are worth studying nonetheless because they appear to fill gaps in Davao, if not Maguindanao, history.
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Another old Indonesian link is represented by long ago migration or trading activities of ordinary Indonesians. Spanish Jesuit priests working in the Davao region in the second half of the 1800s mentioned the visits of Talaw (Talaud) traders to the Davao Gulf. Some were apparently not able to return to their homes. A Kalagan informant of Indonesian descent relates that his ancestor was captured and enslaved by Davao pirates. The ancestor was lucky, as his companions were all killed. Some Lumad (indigenous) families also claim Indonesian links. The descendants of a Bagobo named Agton of Toril claim that Agton came from the Sarangani area and that he had Dutch blood. Similarly, the Dibabawon Buntas family claims an ancestor named Magno who came from Indonesia and had Dutch blood. These original ancestors were mestizo-looking, the Dutch origin suggesting Indonesian links. Accounts of more recent migrants indicate that migration was a family affair. Some informants cite grandparents, parents, or uncles who were the orginial migrants to the Philippines. Some remember ancestors who came around 1919. One was Kolonao Lahaber, whose daughter married the Spaniard Venancio de Arce. De Arce’s descendants can be found in the Sarangani Islands and Davao del Sur today.
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The Sangils of Davao del Sur are now considered natives of Davao; they are Filipino citizens and classified as a distinct tribe. More recent Indonesian migration into southern Mindanao turned into a flood in the 1950s, as migrants were attracted by reports of easy work and cheap goods. This alarmed the Philippine government, leading to a border agreement with Indonesia in 1965 to repatriate hundreds of illegal immigrants and document the Indonesians coming into the country. (A lot of migrant Indonesians appreciate the registration requirement as a sort of protection, but many still slip into the country without bothering with the legal process.) Under this agreement, Marori Island, the northernmost of the Sangihe chain, was designated as the exit point for Indonesians from the Sangihe Islands, with the point of entry as Balut, Sarangani. As a result, Dabawenos refer to the recent Indonesian migrants collectively as Maroris. Most
of the recent migrants to Davao come from the Sangihe region, while a
few are Talaws from the Talaud Islands. Many of them had only an elementary
education, while a few were high school graduates and fewer still were
professionals. The accounts of the informants we interviewed show many
to have been farmers; one was a clerk and two were teachers. The women
migrants were mostly of peasant origin. |
Migrant workers in the Philippines have worked as laborers in plantations, rice mills, and other rural establishments around Davao and Cotabato. A lot of them returned to Indonesia after earning money and making purchases because “everything was affordable here.” But many others remained to marry and raise children in the Philippines with no intention of going back to their homeland except to visit. All these migrants – from the Sangil Filipinos with genealogies pointing to ancient royal roots to the ordinary Indonesians in search of a better life – have reenacted the ancient migrations that tied southern Mindanao to the Sangihe-Talaud Islands.
For the purpose of this research, thirty-five informants were interviewed, nine of whose accounts follow. All but one were Indonesian or of Indonesian descent. The lone informant who was neither was Rosa de Arce vda de Parsaso. She was included because, as the daughter of Venancio de Arce, a Spanish journalist, she had a step-mother who was Indonesian. These informants came from Davao Oriental, Davao del Norte, Davao del Sur, Davao City, Sarangani Province, and South Cotabato.
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Eight of the informants were women. Of thirty-three informants whose ages are known, seven were age 60-69, seven age 70-79, six age 50-59, and five age 40-49. The oldest was Rosa de Arce vda de Parsaso, ninety-one at the time of the interview. The second oldest was Ernesto Mocodompis, age eighty-nine. The youngest informant was Edgar Subu, who was thirty years old. Some of the informants are descendants of Indonesians who came to the Philippines long ago. Others are first-generation migrants and a few are second-generation.
I came to the Philippines in 1972. I had heard many people speak of the Philippines. They would always say that life in the Philippines is better. With little effort you can have a number of clothes in quite a short time. I was not really encouraged by such talks because Sangihe was the only place for me. In 1966, when Mt. Unong Awu erupted, I noticed a number of people who were riding a boat heading for Pulau Balut. It came to my mind that I might want to try |
to see new places. I was curious if people in other places lived and behaved differently from people in Sangihe. I was curious if the faces were very different. I was also motivated by the thought of having many clothes in a short time, like what the villagers said. But my father kept scolding me for having such absurd ideas. “You don’t know anyone there,” my father would always tell me. In 1972, while I was on the bayside with friends, I saw people getting off a boat. I asked a man named Masu where they came from. I learned that they were from Balut. I learned that the boat was there to buy copra. A few people were coming to visit their relatives. I started asking questions about the Philippines. “Life is better in the Philippines. Unlike here, we have better opportunities there and we could buy things we want because almost everything is affordable.” That was what they answered and I was motivated to come here. Masu told me that he would go back to the Philippines a week after. “If you want, you can come with me,” he said. I informed my father of my plans of leaving Sangihe. My father was enraged. “Life is better here than in a foreign land. You don’t know anyone there. How will you survive in a place where everybody is a stranger?”
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But I insisted. My father said that if I would insist, I would not be given any money. This didn’t stop me from pursuing my plans. I borrowed money. I used my father’s name in borrowing money from our “suki” in Sangihe. The Chinese merchant had been our suki since my father started harvesting copra. The merchant asked how I would pay him. I said my father’s harvest (copra) next week would be the payment. The Chinese man gave me 5,000 rupiah (equivalent to P500 now). Masu and I planned to meet at five early in the morning. I waited for five long hours for Masu. When I thought I had waited long enough, I headed for Masu’s house. I walked and ran the ten kilometers, for fear that Masu might have left me. When I reached Masu’s house, his mother said that he already left at five, and that his trip was at twelve noon. I ran back home and grabbed a small bag with two pairs of clothes. I said to myself that I would only stay there for a few days, so two pairs of clothes would be enough. When I was about to go out, my mother shouted at me, “ Come back in December.” When I reached the pier, I was mad to see Masu and his friends having a cup of coffee. I confronted him, asking why he didn’t pass by my house as planned. |
Masu said that my father told him not to fetch me. My problem didn’t end there, because I needed money (in peso) that I could use when I reach Balut. Fortunately, I saw my aunt, who was into the copra business. She told me that she would give me 200 kilos of copra in exchange for my 5,000 rupiah that the Chinese had lent me. She said that when I reach Balut, I could sell the copra in Philippine peso. With my two pairs of clothes and 200 kilos of copra, I thought everything was not really bad. I rode the kumpit (machine-operated with sail) with twenty other people. The boat had a maximum capacity of thirty passengers. Even if the boat was machine-operated it took us two weeks to reach Balut, because whenever the weather was bad the boat would stop and wait for the weather to get better. When we reached Balut, I carried my copra and sold it. I was paid in Philippine peso. I didn’t have a problem of where to stay because Balut is suku-Sangir (Sangil-tribe) area. I stayed with a relative whom I just met there. I stayed for five days in Maroco (Balut), then I rode a pump boat to Jajangas (Dadiangas, or General Santos City). I cried for one week and regretted leaving home.
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People in Balut told me of places where Indonesians worked and lived. I tried to look for them. In Jajangas, I worked as a laborer in a rice mill. I met many Indonesians there. “Kung mahinay ang trabaho, balhin.” (If work was slow, move out.) I would always move out with four or five Indonesians. I worked for one year in Jajangas and then moved on to Marbel, North Cotabato, Norala, Isulan, Esperanza, Malaybalay, Kabakan, Bukidnon, then Davao. It was in 1983 when I first came to Davao. I stayed in Rumah Masyarakat. Rumah Masyarakat was a place where Indonesians gathered. It was situated near Ma-a, it had houses and churches for Indonesians coming to Davao for business or plain visit. I remember that ex-Consul General Hartono would rent houses every August 17. He would rent one house for every delegation (e.g., one house for people from Gen San, another for Sultan Kudarat, etc) There are two “lungsod” in Sangihe: Peta and Taruna. Tabukan Utara is the capital of Peta. I lived for twenty-two years in Taruna.
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