In the heart, a keep for Koronadal

A massive acacia tree stands by the cottage at the Hotel del Rio Resort in Barrio Dos where I stayed for two nights the other weekend.

The cottage, a low-ceilinged concrete structure, is wrapped up in local materials. The ceiling is of sawali, the walls are plastered with bamboo slats, and the furniture, including the bed, are of bamboo and rattan which are still in abundance in Koronadal.

The cottage itself rises by the banks of a small, man-made lake that derives its source from and empties itself into a river that runs parallel to a road leading to a short cut to Tupi town, as Charmaine “Chum” Sansona, the gracious labor communications officer of DOLE Region 12, told me.

Scattered by the banks of the lake are cottages and huts. There is a jetty, too, where small boats were moored, waiting for visitors who may find paddling across the lake calming and therapeutic.

There is no Loch Ness monster here, only birds singing in wild abandon and butterflies and dragonflies doing their chore of hopping from leaf to leaf, flower to flower. The area is a haven of quiet. In the two mornings I was here, the sun bathed the lake with its fierce, bright rays, mesmerizing the water so that it sparkled like glass.

Koronadal, South Cotabato’s political capital is a city of unbelievable serenity. It is a melting pot but is so unlike its neighbor, Maguindanao, which eternally simmers in fierce political tension. Here in this valley city, the people accord primordial value to the word ‘respect’ in word and deed, so socially and economically the city is moving assuredly forward.

Maguindanao, meanwhile, is distinguishing itself as lair of tribal terror. This crept up in the mind because I was in Koronadal two days before the first year anniversary of the blot in the country’s image known as the Maguindanao Massacre. In this murder most foul, 38 of my media co-workers died useless and unnecessary deaths.

I was in Koronadal for a very particular reason: to facilitate the workshop of some 25 employees of the DOLE in writing for public communication. The workshop, which has been postponed twice already due to scheduling problems, is part of my commitment to sharpen the DOLE’s public communications capability when I rejoined the department early this year. Communicating the DOLE is part of the chores Secretary Rosalinda Baldoz gave me when she assumed office in July.

The commitment has already brought me to Cebu, Zamboanga del Sur, Pangasinan, and Cavite. I have already trained over 200 DOLE employees in media relations, news and feature writing, and, would you believe, correct punctuation. The workshop in Koronadal is the latest and one of the best thus far, I believe, in terms of the trainees’ participation: they paid serious attention to the workshop.

In the past as always, I was in a lookout for fresh writing talent at the Koronadal episode of this workshop. My aim was to identify men and women of the DOLE who have the sense for news—and can write as well—to beef up the public communications capability of the regions.

I admit the motive for this, shall we say, is, in a sense, selfish. I maintain that if the DOLE regional offices are so well-versed in communicating their programs and services to the people they serve, then the role of the Labor Communications Office, the DOLE’s public information arm, would be lighter or rendered irrelevant. I don’t mind this, really, for I am a believer in devolution, regionalization, and decentralization. As it is, the proximity of the LCO to the DOLE’s bureaucratic power center makes it a major in the department’s information stakes game.

Koronadal is some 70 km away from General Santos City. The Pan-Philippine highway, which bisects the towns of Polomolok and Tupi, is well-paved and smooth (vehicular traffic is non-existent) and one of the most scenic spots in Mindanao.

Polomolok and Tupi host the plantations and canneries of multi-national Dole, best known for its pineapples, bananas, and asparagus, as well as some Mindanao factories of giant San Miguel Corporation and the Lorenzos’ Lapanday Corporation. In the interior, going north, are the mining town of Tampakan and in the east, the corn town of Banga. Towering over these towns are mountain ranges that drain off its forest refuse to the valley below.

Thousands of hectares of agricultural land in these towns, enriched by a year-round fair, natural clime and abundant waters from the mountains, particularly Mt. Matutom, make South Cotabato one of the most fertile and productive lands in the country.

Change Koronadal has greatly embraced, I mentally noted when I arrived. I was in Koronadal last in the late 80s when, as an employee of the Philippine Crop Insurance Corporation, I used to make whirlwind stops in the town during inspection and audit activities, so much so that I did not recognize the city anymore than I remember the memories associated with it.

I was fortunate regional director Gloria Tango was on hand to meet and greet me at Koronadal’s doorsteps. She quickly filled me in on the DOLE’s operation in the region.

Not only did RD Glo made my Koronadal stay pleasant. She honored me with her full presence at the duration of the workshop, which also saw the active participation of her assistant regional director, Jong Gonzales.

What also made my Koronadal visit memorable were the stories. On the first night, I visited with good friend Ruby Carrasco and her husband Bobby at the Allah Valley Hospital where their son was confined because of high fever. Ruby was formerly the DOLE’s regional information officer, but she had to give up the post when she was promoted. Her husband, with whom I did a brief interview for an article I submitted to the ILO, animated me with his experiences as a labor inspector. His insights went into the article and I am very thankful.

On the last night of my stay, I had dinner at my verandah overlooking the lake with Jong, Chum, Mechele Olog, and Romy Pascasio over grilled panga ng tuna, kinilaw na tuna, and fish sinigang. We had two bottles of wine—an Australian red and a Portuguese white—as counterpoint to the several bottles of San Miguel Super Dry that Jong, the other participants, and I consumed and the volume of throaty songs we belted out the previous night at the resort’s karaoke joint. As a former information officer before he rose to become assistant regional director, Jong knew when a good drink can inspire the karaoke machine.

I left Koronadal the following morning with a mental note to come back as soon as it is possible.

There is, I found out, a keep in the heart enough to accommodate more stories and memories on a Mindanao city so peaceful and charming that one wonders why Koronadal has not exported this peace and charm, like its bananas and pineapples, to the outside world, say, like its neighbor, Maguindanao.