A Day in Lupah Sug

The Masjid Tulay is the oldest and biggest mosque in Sulu.  Here it is as seen from the boat approaching the pier.

After our birding trip in Zamboanga, I travelled with two in our group on the overnight ferry to Jolo, Sulu for a day’s visit there as tourists.

No more Abu Sayaf here, both our guide and driver, told us. Tahimik na dito, they said. (It's quiet here, they said) I do not know enough to take their word for it. But the Sulu provincial government seems keen on opening their doors to tourists. Take a look at their official tourism FB page and you’ll see what I mean.

But, no red carpet for birders, yet, I think.

Many years ago, three birders, a Filipino and two foreigners, were kidnapped in Tawi-Tawi and brought to Jolo, long the stronghold of the Abu Sayaf. The Filipino escaped; the two foreigners were held captive for many years. Later, one was killed in an encounter while the other got away.

The Sulu LGU asks that tourists coordinate their visits with them. For visitors, they’ll organize a day tour to be led by one of their staff. DIY tours aren’t advisable, even if they’ve been telling people there’s nothing to fear.

Our itinerary for the day took us to a local eatery for breakfast of traditional Tausug pastries, rice cakes, fried bananas, and breads, with hard boiled eggs and Kahawa Sug, Sulu native coffee; to the white beaches of Tanduh in Parang; the mangroves of Ipil in Maimbung, a small weaving livelihood center, plus recreational spots popular with the locals.

Our guide took us through roads, he said, were impassable before and not because the roads were rough. Either the military or the rebels didn’t let you through.

We drove through towns with names that could have been written in blood, if you will. Names you heard only in the news. Patikul isnt just the name of a Cinemalaya movie.

My friend C told me if I found myself in Bud Datu, I should throw a coin and make a wish. I didn’t get to do that. It wasn’t on our itinerary and I did wonder why later on.

Bud Datu (Royal Mountain) is where Camp Bud Datu—the home of the marine battalion—is located and where the shrine of Rajah Baguinda, the 15th century Arab missionary who helped spread Islam in the Sulu archipelago, also said to be a Sumatran prince, is found.

As we were driving out of Jolo, passing through Indanan, I spotted a Starbucks sign. Later, I learned that there was place inside the camp where kahawa sug was served in mock Starbucks mugs. After the day was done, my fellow travellers asked me what I thought of Sulu. I paused and all I could say was that it felt different.

Later, on the trip back to Zamboanga on the ferry, I thought about their question again.

This is what I have to say.

When I saw Sulu that day, I saw a very old place; a place with too many scars, and forgotten for too long. I saw a place that had been torn to shreds, whose story is an epic, too long in the telling and complex, in its twists and turns.

My friend C, who knows Sulu well, said: Of course, it’s a forgotten place, like time standing still. You won’t feel its intrinsic beauty if you didn’t know it before the wars. That’s been covered by dirty politics and by dirt, literally.

A day was all I had in this place that used to be called Lupah Sug before the sultans came to rule. Not enough to see through the thick veil of misery and tragedy of the wars; Not enough to behold that beauty of which my friend spoke.

Sulu July 13, 2023