by Milbie and Maya

BLUE, yellow, pink, and green motorboats rush across the deep, blue sea adding to the vibrant atmosphere on this early morning cruise in the Celebes Sea as I and my companions head toward the island we have heard so much about.

The sun beams over the unruffled sea that mirrors a cloudless sky. We lightly glide over the water going southward, the pleasant breeze cooling our skin. I am with Myra and Beverly, my pals since high school, and friendly Manuel who owns the blue motorboat we are on board of. Behind the wheel is Manong Miko, the navigator and captain of our motorboat.

He tells us that Tuka Marine Park lies 2.5 kilometers southwest of the poblacion of Kiamba, reachable only by a 20-minute boat ride. The early settlers of Kiamba called the park Tuka, for its figure resembles a bird’s beak called “tuka”(accent on the last syllable)  in the local dialect.
Bordered by rocks, Tuka is divided into four curved sections: First Tuka, Second Tuka, Third Tuka, and Fourth Tuka.

As we move farther across the open sea, I turn to face our point of origin and hurriedly take several pictures capturing the scenery where talisay trees shade a picnic-perfect gazebo inside a children’s playground. Behind it stands the charming white town hall where the two men who a while ago were standing and smoking on the stairway are probably still in deep conversation. 

I watch the playground fade slowly in the distance as the lush mountains that shelter the borough we are headed for come into clearer view. It is exhilarating seeing the one hundred year-old trees in the distance depicting a vivid image of untouched nature and stretched before it the entire Celebes Sea. Already I feel like I’m on the set of Survivor. 

Manuel warns us of big waves far ahead as we sail westward to track Tuka. I put my camera back in its plastic case and hand it to him lest I accidentally drop it. Myra, Beverly and I scream and tremble as waves angrily slam against our motorboat. Amused, Manuel tells us to hold on tight. We need no prodding.

Anxiously we clasp each other and the boat, our hair playing with the wind, the seaspray wetting our bodies. Within minutes we spot the rock-strewn coast and in no time we are right in the middle of the First Tuka, approaching the shore.

The Deserted Coast
A welcoming ambiance of serenity and cold air greets us. Only the noise of the boat’s engine disturbs the solemnity of this deserted coast enhanced even more by the whisper of the wind and the sound of waves breaking on the rocky shore.

I spit into my snorkeling mask and spread the saliva to its corners. Now that it’s clean, I jump into the water with Myra and Beverly in tow. We put on our masks and float around in the sparkling blue-green water awed by our first breath-taking sight of corals, crustaceans, and fishes we had until then only admired on the National Geographic Channel.

There are jagged-looking corals that look like miniature tree limbs, some fan-shape, and pink and orange flowers. Several huge brain-like corals hug the seabed, their skin appearing to ripple and sway in the water like wary animals without eyes.

Striped fish, yellow fish, red fish, silver fish appear and disappear, smartly wriggling their bodies and zigzagging in all directions every time I try to touch them but in vain. That is because fish have a special sense organ called the lateral line to coordinate sudden turns and permitting the fish to feel the nearness of a predator and identify food or other fish.

The pebble-covered, sandy beach stretches away in the distance for about 600 meters. Over to one side I see a lush mountain without a single evidence that humans had once trod upon this part of the planet. Willowy palm trees cover the mountain and down to the very edge of the shore.

Fascinated, I tread inland, but seeing nothing of interest, I walk back to my waiting companions, happily aware that in this lifetime I have stepped foot on an island that hasn’t yet been violated by an expanding population. There are no cottages that mar the landscape, no cafes, spa salons, shower rooms. Not even toilets. There are no stores in sight or houses for that matter; no electric poles, no other people – just us. Our loud voices and laughter reach all the way to the mountainside and come echoing back to us.

Life-vests and snorkeling gadgets in hand, we stroll along the length of the pebbly shore to explore the whole coastline. I learn from Manuel that the local government of Kiamba intends to keep Tuka as a marine sanctuary, restricting anything that jeopardizes the bionetwork in this area. This is the reason why no facilities are constructed here and why visitors who come to Tuka to swim or enjoy a round of beach volleyball must bring containers in which to keep their trash for disposal elsewhere.

Tuka has in fact been declared a protected area by the local government. It has a total of 12 hectares core zone that is exclusively for research and study by environmental scientists and marine biologists who come here to collect stones and observe the biodiversity. Even fishers are prohibited from fishing in its waters in order to let fish spawn in peace.

I linger for a moment taking in the exotic surroundings. It is obvious to me now why Tuka, unlike so many other places, has to be kept in its natural charm. Simplicity and serenity are its very essence that detach it from our hustle-bustle world. For indeed Tuka could never have become an underwater haven if it were polished into a sophisticated resort people flock to every weekend. Let cities grow and countrysides develop but leave Tuka be, a precious pearl lying safely in its shell, unaffected by humanity.

by Maya Flaminda Vandenbroeck

WHILE everybody else is probably still in bed, or just waking up, my friends and I are already on the road headed toward Maasim municipality in Sarangani where we intend to meet Pastor Isla who has promised to guide us to Tampat Shrine.
It is a huge pile of rocks left as tribute by people of long ago. But tribute to whom? This is what my friends and I intend to find out.
We arrive at Pastor Isla’s house near the beach in Tinoto at around 6:30 a.m. and after a quick round of introductions, he gets in the car with us. A couple of minutes later he tells Triple, our guide from the governor’s office, to stop the car at a rusty padlocked gate along the General Santos-Sarangani highway.
Pastor Isla points to the other side of the highway where mountains border a ranch as far as the eye can see. Looking closely at the cliffs, we spot the biggest clam in the world, which from our point of view, has become just a speck in the distance but is still clearly visible. Pastor Isla tells us that the clam has been featured several times on national television. He then gets out of the car and calls out loudly to the caretakers of the property on our side of the highway to let us in, because he says in Blaan, “We have come to take a look at Tampat Shrine!”
A boy comes and opens the gate to a vast ranch of thin trees and lots of thorny bushes, but no cattle. The pathway is so uneven that we decide to leave the car some 200 meters away from the gate. In single file, we go down the rocky lane strewn with limestone, and by the time we reach the shore of the Celebes Sea, we are all sweating and thirsty.
We walk along the sandy road with the open sea on our right and on the left, huge slabs of shale lining the shore. Finally, we reach the edge of the shoreline where, behind a cluster of houses, is the strangest pile of rocks I have ever seen. It stands more than three meters high, and we are told, each rock got to this spot through the years as homage to Sultan Falalisan. He was a legendary Blaan who had the ability to navigate the seas on a large kawa or cooking pot. (It is a figurative way of saying that he was such a good navigator that he could sail in any contraption—even a cooking pot.)
From where we are standing beside Tampat Shrine, we see a cove with deep blue waters. Three fishers, each in his own banca or boat, sit motionless waiting for fish to take bait. Triple informs us the area is Sigil Cove, where South Point, a popular diving spot, is located. Tampat Shrine happens to be at the very corner of shoreline where the Celebes Sea meets Saranggani Bay.The Shrine’s location is so ideal that it has become the starting point of the annual swimming competition held during the Sarangani Bay Festival every May. Pointing across the sea, Triple says we are facing the Municipality of Glan, the final destination of the swimming competition, and the southernmost municipality of Sarangani.
Pastor Isla tells us that the piled rocks marking the grave of Sultan Falalisan is called Toke’Alfo, a Blaan phrase meaning, One Coconut Tree. This is strange because I have not seen a single coconut growing along the shore. Pastor Isla explains that according to legend, Al Ma’bat, a Blaan forebear of Sultan Falalisan, planted a coconut tree on the spot where the Shrine now stands.
Just like an improvised light tower, I muse. A coconut or shrine located at the point where the Celebes Sea meets Sarangani Bay could serve as a practical navigational marker! Was the Shrine a navigational marker for seafarers looking for protected deep anchorage for their sea vessels? The South Point area of Sigil Cove looks like an ideal spot.
A salty smell from the rocks permeates Tampat Shrine and I decide to walk around to investigate. Some rocks have pieces of nylon rope or string tied through holes. They are probably anchor weights brought by fishers. Carefully circling the Shrine clockwise, I notice slabs of shale in upright position forming 11 rectangles which are clear of rocks and shrubs. A ramp with a north-to-south orientation leads to the top of the Shrine.
It seems to me that Tampat Shrine is consistent with records of burial practices by seafarers of the Indo-Pacific region. When I studied at University, I remember reading that it was not unusual to build the burial ground of a seafarer with a ramp oriented in a north–south direction leading to the top of the burial ground. In fact, ship captains were buried facing the pole star. Were Sultan Falalisan’s shipmates buried around the Shrine as indicated by these shale-lined rectangles? The women in the hut of the family designated as the Shrine’s caretakers confirm my guess that people have been buried here but they do not know who.
Also interesting are the white banners placed at the top of Tampat Shrine which are clearly mourning flags of Muslim influence. In fact, the family in charge of the Shrine are of Blaan descent but practice Islam. This is quite extraordinary because over the centuries, Lumad tribes have steadfastly stuck to their belief systems despite foreigners settling down and introducing Islam and Christianity. This sense of self-preservation of Mindanao’s Lumads is precisely why the Spanish colonizers failed to convert them.

For a moment I become still, moved by the history of the place. Standing under the tree that is growing beside the Shrine, I face the sea and sense the dead seafarers’ spirits around me. I take some pictures and try to capture the serenity of it all. As we trace our steps back to the car, Pastor Isla begins to tell us the story of Tampat Shrine told to him by his late grandfather:
“A long time ago, a Maguidanaoan merchant, Sultan Falasab, reached the shores of Tinoto. Because his ship needed some repairs, he sent his men to the forest to get rattan vines. On the way to the forest, the men saw a tree house, which was the customary house of Blaans at that time. In the tree house was a small boy and a beautiful girl with very long hair that reached the ground. The men took the girl and brought her to the Sultan.”
“The girl’s name was Foi’Ble and she had four older brothers, Fo’n Bong, Fo’n Tukay, Foi’ Talaot, and Al Ma’bat. The brothers were out hunting in the forest and when they returned to their tree house, they found their sister was gone. Following the footprints leading away from their house, the brothers arrived at the beach where they saw their sister on the Sultan’s ship. Very angry, the brothers shot a volley of arrows towards the ship. When Sultan Falasab saw the brothers, he asked for peace and then asked to marry Foi’Ble because he loved her deeply. The brothers agreed but only after Sultan Falasab paid a dowry equivalent to the number of strands in Foi’Ble’s hair. The Sultan then brought Foi’Ble to Maguindanao where they lived from then on.”
“Sultan Falalisan, who is buried in Tampat Shrine, is the descendant of Foi’Ble and Sultan Falasab. Born out of their union, Sultan Falalisan became a Blaan–Maguindanaon who practiced Islam. He was also a navigator like Sultan Falasab and since Foi’Ble came from Tinoto, Sultan Falalisan had a reason to visit the place time and again. As a navigator, he probably anchored his ship at Sigil Cove, and used the lone coconut tree as his navigational marker. When he died, he was probably buried beneath the coconut tree.”
I can very well imagine that because Sultan Falalisan was highly respected due to his royal lineage and his being an excellent navigator, seafarers visited his grave and lay rocks as tokens of respect. And possibly to also ask for still waters in the coasts they were headed.
Incredibly, the story of Tampat Shrine reveals the intermingling of Blaan and Maguindanaon culture; of the Lumad and Muslim beliefs. The hero, Sultan Falalisan, is the intrepid navigator who charted peace and harmony amid the currents of cultural diversity. Although Tampat Shrine’s significance may have been lost in our history, its presence reminds us that before we even existed, other people existed. Who knows, this area around the Shrine might have been a bustling harbor once upon a time. I imagine the mountains in the distance full of deer and the shore full of high trees where people used to live. I gaze at the rocky hill formations looming over Tampat Shrine and wonder where the weary seafarers went to rest and sleep.
Time changes many things; people come and go, changing the environment with them. Yet some things resist the change of time, like great men who died but whose stories continue to be told.
(Visit www.mayaflaminda.blogspot.com for more snippets of the author’s daily encounters with the corrupt, crazy, profound, interesting, famous at work, at home, in the jeepney, at the beach, on the plane. You get the picture.)

by Maya Flaminda Vandenbroeck

AS I’m not used to the limelight, our Blue Jaz trip was quite memorable. Never had I seen such a deluge of thrilled fans who showed their adoration for Dyan and Marc by unabashedly taking pictures with their camera phones. I couldn’t help asking Dyan’s husband how he felt. He joked: okay lang as long as the fans don’t start kissing Dyan! Somebody else from the Sports Unlimited crew informed me fame’s not that bad; its perks exceed its inconveniences. Before everything got too crazy, we quickly walked to the waiting ribs and sped to our fourth and last stop for the day: Kembali.
This Asian Balinese leisure residential resort spreads over 50 hectares and is being developed by Filinvest. Kembali’s smallest lot for sale is 750 sq. m., which I must say, is gigantic compared to the usual 140 sq. m.; big enough to not be bothered by noisy next door neighbors who play loud music the moment they wake up. How I’d love to snap up one of these lots and live in blissful s-i-l-e-n-c-e. Pinky, the sales team head, told me Kembali’s a favorite of balikbayans who want to retire in peace and quiet. (Right on.) Sure fits the resort’s name – Kembali – Indonesian for “I welcome you” or “I return my love to you.” Additional perks that homeowners can enjoy are Kembali’s aqua sports facilities and rent out one of the three overnight casitas at P3,000 for six persons. [Those interested in checking out the lots at Kembali may call (028) 227-0946.]
I befriended Sylvia le Bot, one of Kembali’s guests who lives in Europe but has dived all over the Philippines: Apo Reef in Mindoro, Anilao in Batangas, Donsol in Sorsogon, Apo Island in Negros Oriental, and so on. Sylvia gushed with typical French passion about her fascination with the Philippines, a country she visits every year. Several days ago, while working on her inventory of the biodiversity along Kembali’s coast, Sylvia chanced upon a butanding (whale shark)! “Every day,” she said, “there’s something new to see. Kembali’s location at the junction where Davao Gulf meets Talikud Strait is perfect for sighting migrating big fish.” At the same time, Sylvia continues to be amazed by the richness of Kembali’s resident underwater creatures that she has not found in other diving sites she’s been to. For several weeks now, her routine has been walking along the coast of Kembali to scrutinize the shells so that she knows what she’ll meet alive when she goes in the water.
Sylvia mused that it will be a real pity to have them disappear because of development and careless and irresponsible divers who do more than just take pictures. (Davao Coast Guard please take note and regulate diving already so that we won’t anymore be hearing horror stories of divers wreaking havoc on Davao City’s marine life with their blatant disrespect.) This is one of the reasons Sylvia, with the approval of Kembali’s management, has made it her personal mission to finish her photo documentation, and use these to have Kembali’s waters declared a protected natural park with guided tourism and controlled fishing to ensure the place remains a marine life sanctuary.
The next day’s escapade had us going off to Hagimit Falls where we were shooed in at the entrance without paying the obligatory P5-entrance fee (which on second thought we should have done). On our way down the stairs we met a local, Alex Angcos, who was lugging two sacks of debris. Alex’s in charge of picking up trash and patrolling the area every Saturday and Sunday; a job for which he gets paid P200 each week. Filming began as soon as we reached the water where Marc, his mom, Dyan and her son, tried out most of the little and big waterfalls that make up the stretch that’s Hagimit Falls. “It’s like massage,” Marc’s mom kept telling me.
Later in the day after some more kayaking and slide-to-the-abyss runs – first, chest down, and then butt down – we packed up and cruised back to the mainland where we headed to the newly developed commercial area located inside Davao Riverfront Corporate City, along Ma-a Diversion Highway. Our first stop was Crocodile Park where 600 Philippine Freshwater Crocodile (Crocodylus mendorensis) are kept. According to the website http://www.davaocrocodilepark.com, this species of crocodiles are the smallest in the world and were once found in the entire archipelago but are now endangered because of commercial exploitation and its habitat being converted for agricultural purposes to satisfy a rapidly expanding human population.
Crocodile Park, a privately owned rescue unit of wildlife animals, aims to protect and conserve the critically endangered Philippine Freshwater Crocodile through educating the public about them. Shows like Wildlife Encounter, Crocodile Dancing, Crocodile Frenzy, Crocodile Encounter, and Tightrope Walking let audiences see, among other things, how the crocodiles use their strong tails to propel themselves up to get at the meat. It’s clear that the message is for us to take these gentle giants’ imminent extinction as a sign that we need to act now to help save what’s left of Philippine biodiversity – including the raptors, monkeys, bearcats, snakes, birds, and other reptiles kept at Crocodile Park. 
During our visit, Jimbo, the caretaker, was feeding Karlo, the five-year-old orangutan, a bottle of Gatorade. Somebody warned that if I’d touch Jimbo, Karlo would freak out because he’s a very jealous orangutan who thinks Jimbo is his lover. I didn’t dare disturb them. Sheba, the five-month-old tiger, was let out of the cage and just wouldn’t sit still. Like a giant kitten, she was always jumping and rolling around and almost bit off Marc Nelson’s leg in her playfulness! Also awesome to watch were the Philippine Sailfin Dragons which are so called because of the high crest of skin on the base of the male’s tail, which is supported by bony projections of the tail vertebrae. I was holding the umbrella for Dong as he tried to film them up close. But when one of the Dragons came running straight at me, I shrieked and bolted.
Davao Riverfront Corporate City features the Riverwalk Grill (tel. no. (082) 303-2387), the Butterfly House (tel. no. (082) 301-5465), and is the briefing area and start off point of the Davao Wildwater Adventure. Beside the river, hundreds of bamboo are spread around Tribu K’ Mindanawan, a cultural village featuring different houses of lumad tribes. A sign at the entrance announces cultural presentations and a fire show every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday from 5:45 to 6:30 p.m. A package of P3,000  per head is available for a day tour of all the facilities in Davao Riverfront Corporate City. Pick-up / drop-off transfers are also available on separate bookings. A group can get a discount depending on the number of persons. [For more information visit http://www.parkinfo@davaocrocodilepark.com.]
Just before the sun set and we were ready to call it a day, Sonny Dizon took us to Zip City at Hilltop, Barangay Langub overlooking Davao Gulf and Mount Apo. There we got a taste of Zip City’s first zip line which is going to be open to the public on April 18. When the other phases follow suit, it’s going to be a whole new ball game for ziplining aficionados who can fly, so to speak, from one hill to the other in circles.
For sure, the two jampacked days left us dead tired. Yet we hadn’t even made a dent. Jake mused that there are more than 7,000 islands in the Philippines so Sports Unlimited never runs out of fun things to do; especially in Mindanao, the extreme sports paradise. I totally agree.
(The Sports Unlimited visits to Samal City and to Davao City were slated to be shown on ABS-CBN’s TV Patrol from April 15 to April 17 and again on Sports Unlimited, Channel 2 on April 18. Thanks to Vitto and Sylvia for sharing their pictures.)