THIS IS is perhaps true. Boomers who spent their childhood in Ponciano Street all share the same memories of what it once was. Of these, who could ever forget the Acacia trees? Some still endure by the way.
If one paused by the old fire station upon entering Ponciano Street, it would be hard to miss the imposing row of them across the street. Starting from the main office of Davao Light up to the Palma Gil intersection, these ancients stand like silent sentinels, decades-old witnesses to history.
During our grade school days, we must’ve walked under their shadows countless times while on our way to either the Aglipayan church, where we liked to play, or towards San Pedro Church, where our parents attended Sunday mass.
All these memories again came flooding back as I got off the bus along Roxas, intending to board an AC jeep that would bring me to the multi-test building at the opposite end of Ponciano. Instead, I walked the entire length along this old street of my birth, just to experience being under the towering Acacia once again.
At least, the whole length of the sidewalk on both sides is now clean and clear for strollers, I noted. In the past, parts of it were the same as the nearby streets of Recto and Bolton, crammed with food vendors who hugged the pavement, making it unsafe for pedestrians and schoolchildren.
I noticed, too, that the walls of the elementary school ahead had now been painted with colorful murals depicting Mindanao’s indigenous culture, and mostly featured the various lumad dances and costumes of the island.
During our grade school days, these were merely made out of cement posts with chicken wire, which were then later upgraded into the early versions of how it looked at present, but with etched names of people who donated funds for their construction.
Ten years ago, I remember reading a run-down sign which said the street was scheduled to be converted into what they called ‘spaghetti-free’, meaning getting rid of those hanging electric wires atop street posts, and instead going with underground cabling. At the time, I thought, if this indeed pushed through, I just wished no wise guy would come up with the wild idea of cutting down the Acacias for the sake of having a more progressive look.
The trees had stood there, ever imposing since my waking days. How I wish someone would come out and say how long they’ve been there. I’m sure a lot of untold history lies beneath their very shadow.
As I neared the first tree with one of its thick branches within reach of pedestrians, I thought, I recognize this old fella. Too far to reach when I was little, but now looking as if its branches had already surrendered, some bowing low to the modernity around it. As I briefly ran a fleeting hand across it, it felt like reuniting with an elderly guardian.
