An uncomfortable sensation betrayed my enthusiastic steps out of Cotabato City airport only minutes after stepping off the plane. I've heard a lot of nasty things about this city. The sort that advises you not to go out walking alone, alongside other hysteria propagated heavily by the mainstream media. When my girlfriend Lauren and I eventually ventured outside, we were startled by dozens of marines holding their positions—armed with long rifles, standing on guard with alert eyes concealed behind their black rip-off Oakley sunglasses—with the type of intense glare you can feel at the back of your mind. I nodded to one of them, and a number of them returned my grin.
The Golden Mosque: Sultan Hassanal Bolkiah Masjid
I thought to myself: here we are, in the city that is so frequently misunderstood. I wondered if I would go home with newfound knowledge of this city, or if I would be one of those who say, "I told you so, the place is dangerous." I recall that moment, when we hailed down a tricycle driver to take us to the Golden Mosque, when we were locked in a state of wait-and-see.
The Grand Horizon of Kalanganan
The Sultan Hassanal Bolkiah Masjid, often known as the Golden Mosque, is located in Barangay Kalanganan, some seven kilometers from the city center. It is situated in the center of a vast swath of land that is divided by the Tamontaka River, which leads directly to the Moro Gulf and Timako Hill. We had seen it from the air earlier while the plane was circling for a landing. It's gigantic from afar, and much more so when you're standing only meters away from it.
When we arrived, the Mosque was nearly deserted, with only a few construction workers serving as caretakers. They greeted us warmly and invited us inside. We entered the mosque barefoot, as is the strict custom when entering a Mosque everywhere in the world. The opulent aura of the Mosque immediately grew more imposing. An atmosphere of profound spirituality pervades the interior. I saw a Muslim brother and sister bowing in quiet prayer, communing with God. It is exactly what every house of worship should be.
An Inter-Faith Awakening
As a person from another religion, it was a novel experience to discover how my fellowmen from a different faith express their devotion. Regrettably, I was unable to witness the actual day of service and mass prayer. Yet, I got a distinct sense of how the men and women fully enrich their spirituality just by being inside the Mosque—similar to my previous experiences visiting ancient temples and old Catholic churches.
The Golden Mosque is said to have cost $48 million and was heavily funded by Sultan Bolkiah of Brunei. I haven't been to many mosques before, but this one deeply reminds me of another stunning mosque in Kota Kinabalu, the one situated near Likas Bay.
The sun was shining brightly that day, which proved to be a good omen as the skies turned a deep, clear blue. The scattered white clouds provided an ideal, dramatic backdrop for this magnificent structure. Looking at it from a distance, you can't help but be totally amazed. The massive structure, as defined by its sweeping curves and intricate designs influenced by classic Arabic architecture, creates a powerful image, particularly in the eyes of an outsider onlooker.
Challenging the Generalization of Fear
I felt incredibly at ease and at home. My hidden, initial fears of Cotabato City soon faded completely, to be replaced by a new stream of interests and open-mindedness. We walked into the main courtyard under the scorching sun, barefoot, and barely felt the heat of the tiled floor. A magical flow of Zen-ness is created by the wind coming in from all four directions—just as I imagine it does for the faithful who flock to this mosque on each day of assembly.
Still standing outside and preparing to leave, I returned my gaze to the towering minarets as a flock of birds flew by—a few gently gliding over the dome-shaped towers, and a lone bird landing delicately on one of the crescent moons. The air was filled with a blissful, absolute calm. The only sound I could hear was the wind blowing and my girlfriend Lauren's angelic voice telling me how beautiful the place is.
A Chinese family soon arrived and went inside to tour the mosque. Lauren and the patriarch had a brief conversation. Despite the fact that they actively live in Cotabato City, he told her it was their very first visit to the Mosque. They were afraid of being kidnapped when traveling along the coastal highway. I told Lauren that we'd never truly know if such deep-seated fears were rational or not because we don't live in Cotabato City; the important thing is that we never let that fear consume us.
As we rode the tricycle back to the city proper, Lauren, with her ever-studying eyes, pointed out to me the various churches from different religious denominations built around Cotabato City. It was overwhelmingly obvious to us that day that religious prejudice is virtually non-existent in Cotabato City. Some of the intense fears I had—like being targeted for being a Christian in Cotabato City—were completely unfounded.
As Jaffar, our new friend whom we met two days later, pointed out, Muslims and Christians coexist perfectly peacefully in this city. Crime does occur, just as it does in other places, and it doesn't hurt to be extra cautious and alert, but such a sweeping generalization of fear is entirely unwarranted.
A quick visit to this mosque has taught me that the only thing to truly fear is fear itself. Especially in a place where the towering crescent moon watches over everyone, gently reminding them that it is the ultimate symbol of peace.
This is part of a series about my week-long Mindanao backpacking trip in 2012:
