Camanchile Drive

Except for the corner street sign that says “Camanchile Drive”, I would not have recognized the street where I grew up. In fact, missing the street sign, I walked past it a couple of times, my direction a little bit disoriented. It was only the sign that assured me that I was on the right street. The familiar landmarks that I knew then were gone.

Upon entering the street was the ( or used to be ) Villarosa house. It was a semi bungalow with a nice den at the basement. I used to walk past this house daily on my way home from school. It would be about 4 to 5 pm and I could hear the Ray Conniff Singers from the den. Or once in a while, Santana’s Oye Como Va. The Villarosas had nice “sounds” down there.

A big Acacia tree greets you a few meters away. It was so huge that it blocks the sun and offers a welcome shade for those traversing this road. That was the landmark that I grew up with. But to my disappointment, the tree was no longer there. Instead, a big tall cold concrete wall stands in its place. The wall extends almost at the end of the street where you could see a busy highway… Veterans Avenue, I think.

Just past the Acacia tree was the Smoyer’s Compound. It consists of rows of apartments where we lived for a while and a moderate sized pineapple plantation. Or was it papaya? I’m not quite sure now. Those were several years ago, like 20 to 30 years . Memories had a way of playing tricks with your mind sometimes and I could not even remember the particular street where we lived. The apartment’s gone now, so is the mini plantation. And yes, the big ( and scary during my time) balete tree fronting the apartment. A half finished open basketball court now stands between where the balete tree and the apartment once stood.

At the far end of Camanchile Drive , at the right corner also once stood the Manuel residence. A bank now stand it its place.

Just at the back of the Manuel residence along Veterans Avenue was the Cuyugan’s Hotel. Actually a cluster of cottages. As I approached the gate
I noticed that it was locked with a chained padlock. The gate itself tells the whole story. It was rusted and I could see unattended grass.inside the place. Some cottages still stood there although I could not tell if people still live there. From my perspective, the place looked abandoned. Although I could hear a dog somewhere.

I walked all the way back to the Astoria Hotel. It was a 15-minute walk. I wanted desperately to feel the old Zamboanga I once new …

But things change. Nothing really last forever. Only memories.