Padada, my hometown, is named after an extinct mangrove species that once was abundant in the region. According to a study by Lucille G. Tanguihan*, “age old tradition” says that the Padada tree brings good luck – whether true or not, no one can truly say.
My family is of migrant stock – like most of the inhabitants of Mindanao, we can trace our lineage to those who joined the “Great Exodus” of the 1900s. Mindanao is the land of opportunity, and economic benefit was the primary reason that people flocked to Mindanao, specifically to the province of Davao.
(This may be a little hard to believe if all you’ve ever known is the hustle and bustle of Metro Manila life, but I believe this to be true even until now – that is, perhaps, a topic for another entry.)
A lot of the migrants into the Digos-Padada Valley came from central Visayas – my grandfather on my mother side, Pastor Cejuela, was one of those looking for greener pastures in these fertile lands.
Back then, the Americans wanted to attract settlers to Mindanao, so they sold homesteads of up to 24 hectares at bargain prices. To sweeten the deal, they even offered free transportation and financial assistance. Despite this, life was tough in the frontier land, as settlers found the lack of a sustainable income a harrowing daily reality.
My grandfather faced this reality head on, and took advantage of this opportunity. He took out a 24-hectare homestead in what was then Lower Limonso in Padada. He planted coconuts and built a life in Padada – he fathered 14 children in total – including my mother, Milagros.
Like my grandfather, my father, Nicanor Sr., was also a migrant. He arrived in Padada from Moalboal, Cebu to join my uncles, the twins Canuto and Librado in the early 1950s. He ran away from home after his parents told him to quit school as they can no longer afford to pay for it. And it was, again, Mindanao, the land of opportunity that called to him.
Looking back, maybe it was a bit of that Padada luck that brought Nic Sr. and Milagros together. Nine years after my father moved to Padada, I was born.
It is here, in this land of opportunity named after a fabled lucky mangrove tree, where my story begins – not one of luck, but just old-fashioned grit and hardwork.
Part 1 of 4
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*I liberally referenced this study of Lucille throughout this entry; not all towns have a history that was documented like this, and I took advantage of it. I am grateful for her and for researchers like her who thought it worthy to research and write about the heritage of these places that are near and dear to people, especially to those who grew up there.