Last Wednesday, I woke early to a drizzly, chilly morning in Puerto Princesa. Craving a McDonald’s coffee, I rode my scooter to the San Pedro outlet. Inside, I settled at a table near the glass window, watching cars pass by as I sipped my coffee and ate a cheesy egg sandwich.
At a nearby table sat a man and two women. From their conversation, it seemed the women had just arrived from Manila on an early flight, picked up by the man, whom one addressed as “Pastor.”
“Pastor, gusto mo ba ng coffee?” one woman asked, heading to the counter. He nodded.
Their casual exchange piqued my curiosity. I assumed they were missionaries, possibly planning religious activities in Puerto Princesa or other Palawan municipalities. But their discussion soon took an unexpected turn.
The pastor began describing timberlands in Puerto Princesa, speaking with confidence about areas like Sitio Tagbarungis in Barangay Inagawan, the ancestral domain in Montible and Napsan on the west coast, and a timberland in Barangay Sta. Lourdes overlooking Honda Bay. One of the women mentioned Barangay Culandanum in Aborlan, Palawan.
His crude Tagalog and boastful tone suggested he wasn’t a native of Palawan. He claimed that, while conducting missionary work, he acquired unoccupied timberland parcels, buying them for as little as ₱30,000 and selling them for ₱300,000. A 600-square-meter plot in Sitio Tagbarungis, he said, could fetch ₱500,000—even without a land title.
For ancestral domains in Napsan, he explained, a “waiver of rights” from the Tagbanua tribe sufficed, bypassing formal deeds of sale. One woman asked, “What if the government reclaims the timberland?”
“No problem,” the pastor replied. “Once we clear the area, plant trees, and build a talipapa, houses, a school, or a church, it becomes a community. The government won’t evict them; they’ll distribute the land to occupants.”
He fielded questions via his phone from someone connected to the women, answering inquiries about the land’s distance from the airport, travel time from the city, and availability of utilities like water, electricity, and internet. One woman mentioned the buyer’s interest in building a covered tennis court.
“No issue,” the pastor assured her. “The area is large, and it overlooks Honda Bay.” When asked about the price, he deflected, saying, “Talk to the occupant. It’s a good property.”
As I listened, I grew uneasy. This pastor didn’t seem like a typical missionary. His actions suggested a pattern of exploiting timberlands and ancestral domains, acquiring land from unsuspecting locals and selling it to outsiders.
Puerto Princesa has long struggled with informal settlers in coastal areas and on titled properties. I recalled a conversation with the late David Mendoza, who owned an 11-hectare property in Barangay Sta. Lourdes overlooking Honda Bay. He described his frustration with squatters encroaching on his land. Accompanied by his daughter, Chin-chin Mendoza, I visited the property and saw houses built illegally, facilitated by an individual collaborating with a barangay official.
Sadly, both David and Chin-chin have passed—David before the pandemic, and Chin-chin during it. Their family continues to grapple with these encroachments. The pastor’s mention of Sta. Lourdes timberlands suggested ongoing efforts to target such areas.
To curb the spread of informal settlements, Mayor Lucilo Bayron should intensify anti-squatting efforts across Puerto Princesa’s barangays. The city council must craft a robust ordinance to address this persistent issue.
The Community Environment and Natural Resources Office (CENRO) of the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR), with jurisdiction over Puerto Princesa and Aborlan, should investigate groups exploiting timberlands and ancestral domains under the guise of missionary work. Awareness and enforcement are critical to protecting Palawan’s natural resources.
A weekend reflection
Last weekend, while waiting for a lawyer friend at a coffee shop in Robinson’s Mall, I ran into an old friend. Our brief chat turned to a mutual acquaintance facing a hefty estate tax bill with the Bureau of Internal Revenue (BIR). His family’s property holdings, reportedly worth nearly P1 billion, carried a substantial tax burden.
“That’s a Batman-level problem,” my friend joked, referring to the daunting payment. I smiled, marveling quietly at our friend’s success.
In memoriam
I extend my heartfelt condolences to the family of Michael “KaMigs” Mendoza, husband of Arlene Villalon-Mendoza, who passed recently. His wake is scheduled from April 30 to May 3 at their residence in Badjao Seafront, Puerto Princesa.
KaMigs and I were contemporaries at Palawan State University. Despite his prominent family background, he remained humble and reserved as a business administration student while I studied in the College of Arts and Humanities. Farewell, KaMigs. Until we meet again.
