𝒫𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓈 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒾𝓃𝒹

Introduction

For years, my hometown, Jolo, Sulu, was a place of fear, violence, and survival. Bombs, gunfire, kidnappings—this was our reality.

Then Rodrigo Roa Duterte became president.

For the first time, we felt safe. For the first time, we were seen.

Now, the same man who fought for us is on trial—accused of crimes he did not commit.

They are trying to erase his legacy.

But we will never forget

I grew up on a small island in the Philippines called Jolo, Sulu. It’s tiny—just a dot on the map—but to the world, it was known for something much bigger. Not for its beautiful beaches, not for its rich culture, but as a hotbed of terrorism, a place where the Abu Sayyaf thrived.

I grew up hearing bombs explode, cannons fire, and gunshots pierce the night. That was normal. Walking alone? That was never an option. There was always a threat—you could be kidnapped, robbed, or even killed by a random bomb in the market. So our routine, my siblings and I, was simple: go to school, go straight home. No detours, no adventures, no carefree childhood like other kids had.

If you were the child of a politician, a businessman, or simply someone who stood out—too beautiful, too privileged, too anything—you were a target. A white van could come and take you at any moment.

The only time I ever got to see the town was if my grandmother, Mamang, brought me along. And even then, I never let go of her hand. My eyes wandered, but my feet never dared to. Whenever we were in a crowd, my heart would race—what if there was a bomb? What if this was the last moment before another explosion?

Even the beach—what should have been a place of peace—never felt safe. I could count on one hand the number of times I went. And when I did, I wasn’t there to enjoy. I was there to worry.

For 24 years, that was my life. That was our reality. Jolo was not a place to live. It was a place to survive.

Until a man from Mindanao changed everything on June 2016.

His name was Rodrigo Roa Duterte.

When Tatay Digong became president, I didn’t expect anything. We had been ignored for so long—why would he be any different? But in his first two years in office, something happened. Something unbelievable.

Jolo changed.

Slowly, but surely, we started seeing news reports—not about hostages, but about our white sand beaches. Instead of being featured for kidnappings, we were being recognized for our beauty.

People could walk freely at night. Before, by 6 PM, everything shut down. By 8 PM, the streets were empty. But under Duterte? Stalls stayed open, the food markets thrived, and for the first time, we felt like we were part of the Philippines.

Our barangays flourished.

Our people were finally seen.

We could go places we never dared to before—places we only ever dreamed of stepping foot in.

And for the first time in my life, I didn’t hear bombs.

I didn’t hear gunfire.

I didn’t hear death.

I still remember the first time I saw Jolo on the news, not for terrorism, but for tourism. I was teary-eyed, overwhelmed. Finally, the world would know us for something good.

All because one man decided we were worth fighting for.

Duterte’s war on drugs terrified the criminals. Drug lords, pushers, users—they either surrendered or disappeared. And with them, the fear we had lived with for decades began to vanish too.

He was the only president who made us, Tausugs, feel like we belonged.

The only one who proved that Jolo is part of the Republic of the Philippines—not just an afterthought.

And now?

Now, they are putting him on trial.

For what?

For making our home safer?

For giving us a chance at life?

For cleaning up the mess that past leaders ignored?

I can’t help but cry.

I wish I had the power to save him from all these evil people who refuse to continue his legacy.

I wish I could tell him, “We remember. We are grateful. We will never forget what you did for us.”

But here we are, under a new administration, and our little island is back to being what it once was.

A terrorist spot instead of a tourist spot.

We fought so hard to change.

Now, we are losing everything again.

I wish we could save him.

I wish we could save Tatay Digong.