I have never been to Dumaguete City in Negros Oriental. I heard that it is one of the happiest places to live in. The locals are said to be warm and friendly. There are fine beaches, the weather is pleasant, the community is generally peaceful and best of all, cost of living is affordable. There’s a good balance of modern living and a simple, island vibe has long been. All in all, it seems to be a good place to retire or to withdraw from the hurly burly and hubbub of modern life and keep the world on hold.
Now this idyllic picture that I have in my imagination has now been marred by news of a proposed development of a 174-hectare “smart city” to be constructed on reclaimed land that will give rise to malls, condominiums, hospitals, business hubs and a docking port for a planned yacht club, among others, to the tune of P23 billion!
Expectedly some local groups are pushing back against the said project. I wouldn’t want to go into the details but the basic opposition is grounded on the possible detrimental effects of the development to the rich marine ecosystem of the city and to the communities in the area.
There’s a need for a serious dialogue here. The city leaders must sit down and listen first to the local residents, who are after all the main stakeholders, because literally much is at stake here.
What is happening there should resonate in every individual who has a hometown he or she cherishes, if only in the mind.
When we were young and restless, my batchmates wanted to get out of our hometown because it was not progressive or urbanized enough. We would describe it as malayo sa sibilisasyon. That’s why when famous fast food franchises started opening branches in the town center, we were delighted because it was a sign that our town had finally been touched by progress.
Now that I am older, I’m not too sure anymore. The town is now a full-fledged city and all is not well. There is no proper planning and zoning. It’s all hustle and bustle without design. Streets are congested with tricycles. Although my siblings still live there, in a sense, I wouldn’t call it “home” anymore. I no longer have a sense of affection. Our “hometown” has lost its soul.
Call me a born-again traditionalist, but I hold that we must do all we can to keep as much as we can of a hometown’s ecological and cultural inheritance. Cultural inheritance is the story of every hometown. This includes its history, terrain, vegetation, structures, the cuisine, the scents and smells, the people, rituals, festivals, customs and practices and so on.
If we leave our hometown to unbridled commercialism, we virtually cut the umbilical cord that ties us to a vanished town that cradled us and partly defines who we are now.
So it is only fair and proper that those who have stayed in the same place as well as those who have left their hearts in it, must have a voice in the preservation of a hometown’s cultural inheritance so the past can live in harmony with the present. There must be a compact between the people and their leaders to allow progress to go on but on the community’s terms.
As a model, let me point you to a town in Japan called Manazuru. This small coastal town near Tokyo has a couple of simple attractions, which remain virtually intact not by chance, but by design. This seaside jewel remains so pristine, thanks to the Manazuru City Design Code, which saved it from the overdevelopment that claimed neighboring hamlets during Japan’s bubble economy of the 1980s. Thanks to this design code drawn up and encoded in a book by the town’s vibrant, vocal, civic-minded residents, buildings remain in harmony with the location, a sense of community is fostered, and the magnificent vistas that the area is famous for have been protected, including its huge marine biodiversity.
So one can say that progress in Manazuru is being done by the book. It is working because the elected town officials abide by it and the people of the community are actively involved and doing voluntary work to make it operational. It is so successful that many folks from big cities want to visit and stay for a few days in Manazuru. The once sleepy town has become a summer resort area, promoting itself as the “Japanese Riviera.” Tourism is now the main driver of the local economy, side by side with the cultivation of mikan and commercial fishing.
Manazuru is successful because the town folks drew the line on commercial over-development and stuck to what is inherent as well authentic about their community. I call it the inherent drama of the place, much like the intrinsic qualities of a product, akin to the Unique Selling Proposition, to use marketing terms.
A town’s stakeholders must sit down together and agree on the unique drama that will be the rock foundation to build on, serving as the central vision around which progress can be planned, and promoted through word of mouth.
Then each town must have its own Design Code and implement it. Town folks need to organize some sort of an advisory design council composed of civic-minded local artists, cultural workers, architects, historians, the elderly, environmentalists and even visiting former citizens from diverse disciplines.
Consider the town of Cainta, my second hometown where I reside now. It has many intrinsic qualities that make it distinctive: its well-known native kakanin, the story of the Sepoys who decided to settle in the town after the British left in the 1700s, its unknown history as the origin of karihan (where Indian curry became nativized) and even the fact that the name Cainta comes from kain tayo. Caintenos can build on these to create a branding blueprint for our town.
While it’s true that our country does not have a Taj Mahal, a Borobudur Temple, or an Angkor Wat to draw visitors, what we have are the unique stories of our hometowns and the local people who live there. If they are preserved and packaged properly by the communities, these can draw enlightened seekers of culture and authentic experiences. Let’s invite visitors to our narrow footpaths, through our charming houses and local little shops and eateries. Let’s open our own local museums where we can then showcase all the qualities that make our hometowns vibrant and different.
Let’s do slow organic progress by the book, the Manazuru way. Overflowing with charm, every small town and community has much to say to the world.