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Long Reads

'Paano Kami Makakabangon Ulit?' Inside the Long, Painful Struggle of Displaced Marawi Residents to Return to Normal Life

By Paul John Caña
Oct 23, 2023
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Janisah Acmad was at work when the attack happened. The security guard at the Mindanao State University was on duty when word reached her and her colleagues around 3 p.m. of May 23, 2017 that there was gunfire at Barangay Basak Malulut in downtown Marawi City. But she didn’t think too much of it in the beginning. 

“Uso kasi sa amin dito yung rido-rido,” she tells me in her home at the Pagalamatan Shelter in the town of Saguiaran, about 20 minutes away from the Marawi city center. Rido-rido is what locals call clashes between warring families or groups, often about land disputes or domestic issues. Those involved in rido-rido are often armed and rarely hesitate to use them when provoked.

“Sabi nila, wala, rido-rido lang yan,” Acmad says. “Normal lang yung may report na ganung putukan kaya hindi ako nag-panic.”

Janisah Acmad is one of the displaced persons of Marawi


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But later in the afternoon, officials informed Acmad and the rest of the security staff at MSU that the gunfire came from rebels affiliated with ISIS. That’s when terror gripped Acmad: her four children were alone in their home near Basak Malutlut, right near the center of the fighting.

“Tumawag yung asawa ko, sabi nya ‘Paano yung mga bata? Nasa bahay sila, walang kasama,’” Acmad says. “Sabi ko sa asawa ko, ‘Uwian mo sila, pababa na ko.’ Hindi rin ako makadaan kasi andun yung putukan. Wala nang makakababa doon. Siya naman, galing pa siya sa Iligan.”

Eventually, during a lull in the conflict, Acmad was able to reach her children. They escaped to her aunt’s place in Balindong, a municipality about an hour away from Marawi.

“Sabi ng mga tao, matatapos din yan bukas,” she says. “So hindi na kami nag-worry kasi akala namin mabilis din matatapos.”

Little did Acmad know that that was the last she would ever see of her home. What she initially thought was rido-rido was the start of the so-called Marawi siege that would last five months and lead to hundreds dead, thousands wounded, and widespread destruction of a huge portion of Marawi City. As many as 200,000 residents were displaced and forced to evacuate to homes of relatives and friends and to temporary government shelters. 

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That includes Acmad, who initially lived with her aunt but has since moved to the Pagalamatan Shelter, which is a project of Mujiv Hataman, the former governor of the now-defunct Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao. Acmad is one of the lucky ones who did not experience living in the evacuation centers the government set up for internally displaced persons (IDPs).

The Pagalamatan Shelter community in the town of Saguiaran


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“Hindi na kami tumira sa evacuation center kasi masyadong crowded,” she says. “May maliit pa akong bata. Tsaka may matitirhan naman kami.” 

After she heard about Hataman’s housing project, which was constructed in 2018, she applied for a slot and was fortunate enough to have been awarded a home one year later. But having a roof and four walls didn’t exactly mean that her troubles were over.

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The IDP situation

The fighting in Marawi began with the surprise attack of militants with ties to the terror group ISIS (Islamic State) as well as the Maute group and Abu Sayyaf. Government forces led by soldiers of the Armed Forces of the Philippines and the Philippine National Police fought back. Philippine allies like the United States, Australia, and China offered military support. With hundreds of armed fighters on both sides, the Marawi siege has since come to be known as the largest and longest urban battle in the country since World War 2. 

Five months later, on October 17, 2023, President Rodrigo Duterte declared that the military had retaken the city and that the fighting was finally over. It was cause for celebration, for sure, but that was only the beginning of the long and still ongoing process for those displaced by the conflict.

Due to the heavy bombardment of the city and intense fighting between the rebels and government troops, the city became no man’s land for its residents. According to the United States Agency for International Development, nearly 360,000 people were displaced at the height of the conflict in Marawi, although Philippine government estimates peg the number at nearly 200,000, which is about the entire population of the city.

A typical house in the Pagalamatan Shelter in Saguiaran town in Lanao Del Sur

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Many IDPs were housed in what was supposed to be temporary displacement camps, but six years on and thousands of these evacuees are still living miserable lives in these shelters, many of which are cramped and overcrowded. While some families and individuals were able to return to their homes near ground zero, as many as 84,000 IDPs (about 16,000 families) are still staying in temporary shelters today, according to IDP groups.  

During a forum and workshop in Iligan City, government leaders and civil society groups identified the most pressing challenges IDPs are facing: livelihood, land, homes and property constantly facing threats from armed groups, as well as unresolved land issues that have been the cause of skirmishes within communities. Many feel that the government has all but forgotten them as assistance that had been promised has yet to fully materialize.

Life in a settlement

It's not much better for the “lucky” ones living in housing settlements provided by the government. At the Pagalamatan shelter, where Acmad and her family live, there are 100 houses side by side built for 100 families, although the actual number of residents is much more. The shelter is built on a one-hectare piece of land donated by barangay chairman Wahab Pangcoga. Each house has a 36-meter floor area on a 120-square-meter lot. The main “street” is unpaved and dusty on sunny days and muddy when it rains. Water is limited to one hour of supply every day, electricity is weak and sometimes intermittent, and there is a distinct lack of livelihood opportunities for residents.

“Mahirap talaga ang buhay dito,” says Honaisa Baragona, who lives in one of the houses together with her two daughters, and several children. The house is too small even for a regular family of three or four, but Baragona says there are eight members of her family all living in the tiny house. There are two bedrooms, each just big enough for a thin mattress and several boxes of their belongings, and a living area, where there is a wooden crib for the infants, a plastic stroller, a portable gas burner for cooking, and a few other knickknacks. The grandmother, who says she is in her early 70s, says she used to sell cooked food when she was living in Marawi. Now the family gets by often through the kindness of relatives and friends.

Honaisa Baragona with her grandchildren


“Minsan ang ulam namin asin at kaunting toyo,” she says. “Minsan pag walang bigas, wala kaming makain.”

Next door lives Abubakar Mao, who shares the house with another family. Mao has a wife and six children, while his cousin has a wife, one child and four grandchildren. But during the time of my visit, Mao says his cousin is away visiting relatives.

“Humhingi sya ng ano…alam mo na,” he says, implying that his cousin is seeking monetary help to put food on the table.

Mao says he used to sell ice cream back in Marawi and occasionally picks up passengers in his tricycle. Now he does odd jobs around the settlement—whatever he can do to earn a few pesos. But oftentimes he says he’s jobless. 

“Kung ako tatanungin mo, syempre mas gusto ko yung may hanapbuhay,” he says. “Gipit talaga sa hanapbuhay ang karamihan dito sa amin.”

Mao says his family has been able to receive monetary compensation from the government. There was an initial P73,000, then P10,000, and then P15,000.

35-year-old Abubakar Mao with three of his six children


“Pero kapos talaga kasi binabayad lang namin sa utang,” he says. “Kung saan-saan ka hihiram: sa kaibigan, kamag-anak. Kailangan mo talagang umutang lalo na kung wala kang bigas.” 

Asked if he wants to go back to Marawi, he says it doesn’t look like that’s ever going to happen.

“Yung tinitirhan namin doon, sa mga kapatid ng asawa ko, wala na,” he says.

As for Acmad, she says her family gets by through her husband’s meager income as a tricycle driver. The 39-year-old says she used to work as a security guard at a supermarket in Batangas and says she is planning to find work in Manila when she gets the chance.

“Plano ko talaga bumalik sa Maynila kasi dun lang naman talaga malaki yung sahod,” she says. Hindi na talaga kasya ngayon kasi nag-aaral na yung mga bata. Apat yung anak ko. Isa nasa high school, 15. Ito grade four,” she says pointing to one son playing inside one of the bedrooms.

Acmad also works as a volunteer broadcaster for a community radio station in the settlement, helping air out the residents’ grievances to anyone willing to listen. She has a sunny disposition, with an easy smile even for us strangers quizzing her about her life as an IDP, but she breaks down when asked what exactly they need right now. 

Acmad in her home at the Pagalamatan Shelter


“Sana matulungan kami na makabangon ulit, at makalimutan kung ano yung nangyari sa amin,” she says through hot tears streaming down her cheeks. “Masakit yung nangyari. Paano kami makakabangon ulit? Kasi yung iba, hindi makahanap ng trabaho. Yung mga bata, karamihan sa kanila, hindi nakakapag-aral.

“Sana may tumulong sa amin,” she adds. “Ang daming nawala. Lahat ng napag-hirapan namin nawala.” 

As for more pressing needs, she says the community desperately needs water, and drums where they can store it during the long stretches of time when the taps run dry. These are things that many of us take for granted but mean a lot for IDPs like Acmad.

A representative of the government, Department of Interior and Local Government Undersecretary for Plans, Public Affairs and Communication Margarita Gutierrez, says she has already reached out to local government officials to address the most immediate needs of the IDPs.

“Kailangan yun ma-actionan agad,” she says. “If you deprive people of the most basic necessities, that will radicalize people. If they don’t get the support of the government, they will ask it from someone else.”

Gutierrez adds that she is already drawing up an action plan to help resolve other issues that the DILG can help with, including lease extensions for the land where some of the temporary shelters are located to ensure that the evacuees are not kicked out of the place they have called home for the last six years while waiting to return to their actual homes.

A ruined building in Marawi


“Syempre, sino ba namang ayaw bumalik,” Acmad says when asked about possibly returning to Marawi. “Andun lahat ng memories. Nakatira kami sa tita ko doon. Nakita ko yung bahay namin dun, wala na. Abo na lang lahat. Kahoy lang kasi yun. Nasunog.

“Kapag nakuha namin yung compensation, malaking tulong yun kasi pwede nang gamitin yun sa pangkabuhayan. Kailangan ng asawa ko ng tricycle, kasi nagba-boundary lang siya. Pwede ko sya matulungan.”

Compensation for the victims

Acmad is talking about the reparations to those displaced by the conflict in Marawi. Republic Act 116964 or the Marawi Siege Victims Compensation Act was signed into law by former President Duterte in April 2022, which led to the creation of the Marawi Compensation Board, or the body tasked to administer the payments to eligible claimants. President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. appointed Atty. Maisara Dandamun-Latiph to lead the MCB as its chairperson.

Atty. Maisara Dandamun-Latiph is the chairperson of the Marawi Compensation Board


Based on the implementing rules and regulations of the MCB, claims can either be for loss of life or missing persons; for structural owners of either residential or commercial or cultural properties, regardless of the status of the land; and personal property or other properties of those who are inside ground zero, which encompasses 32 barangays that saw the most intense fighting of the siege, as well as eight other less affected barangays.

According to Latiph, since the MCB started accepting claims on July 4 until August 31, 2023, there have been a total of 4,762 applications, with the total amount of the claims reaching P17,456,836,830.

Latiph adds that the MCB expects to receive a total of 23,489 claims by July 3, 2024, which is the deadline for filing of claims. She says the board is only allowed to accept claims for one full year.

“We average around 200 claims per day,” Latiph says during an interview in her office inside the MSU campus. “Every week, 200 claims are analyzed by the board secretary.” The claims then undergo several layers of adjudication, and those that make it past stringent investigation then go on for recommendation and awarding. She says the average amount per claimant is around P3.3 million.

According to Latiph, the estimated amount needed to cover the damages caused by the Marawi siege is around P50 billion.

A row of abandoned buildings and homes in Marawi

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“The board has five years to adjudicate,” she says. “We project that, every year, it should be P10 billion. So that’s P50 billion of estimated damages. According to the Office of Civil Defense, which is the government arm that investigated right after the Marawi siege, there are around 11,800 structures that were destroyed, which is estimated to cost P30 billion. If the structures alone cost P30 billion, how much more the personal properties?”

So the MCB projects it needs at least P10 billion every year to cover the cost of the damages and claims by the victims. There’s only one problem: the total amount disbursed by the Department of Budget and Management to cover the Marawi Siege Compensation for Fiscal Year 2023 is only P1 billion. 

“They said that, if this is the case, then we have to prioritize,” Latiph says. “Prioritize death and structures because it’s easier to pay. And personal property. Because there are so many of them, we have until next year to get the data together.”

The chairperson said the MCB has already lodged an appeal with Congress to increase the budget set aside for the claimants to at least P7 billion next year.

Soldiers pose in front of a bullet-ridden tower in Marawi City


“The ultimate goal of the MCB is ‘kambalingan,’ or to return home,” Latiph says. “The compensation might not be enough. We know there are so many non-compensatory items na kailangan, other interventions na hindi pa nagagawa. Yung survivors, hindi rin nabigyan ng sustainable solutions. Imagine they survived five months inside the siege, when they come out, they are not the same person.

“It does not end there,” she adds. “There should be other, non-monetary interventions that are very important that should also be prioritized, things like livelihood, education, psycho-social healing, and the sustainable development of the survivors and their families.”

“I’m struck by the resilience of the people,” Gutierrez says. “Last year I was here, I just kept on crying. I got so emotional and so moved with what I saw, and also overwhelmed with the amount of work that we’re going to be doing. After that experience, my resolve to help them strengthened.

“It’s been (six) years and people are still hopeful that change can happen,” she adds. “They’re still hoping. I don’t want to waste a minute more not helping them or at least not reaching out to the concerned agencies to help us help them, so that the next time we come back we can look them in the eye and say, ‘Here you go. And thank you for not losing faith and hope in our government.’”

In a statement to mark the sixth anniversary of the city’s liberation from rebel forces, Marcos Jr. admitted that there is much that still needs to be done. 

The Grand Mosque in Marawi City

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“Rest assured, my dear fellow Filipinos, that this administration will strive to achieve the goals we have set for you and your city,” Marcos said. “The government will expedite the completion of all the Marawi rehabilitation projects and process all the claims with utmost urgency and responsiveness.

“If the accomplishments, changes, and promises that come with this year’s celebration highlights anything, I hope that it underscores our unceasing dedication to help our Maranao brothers and sisters achieve peace, security, and normalcy,” the President added. 

Marcos’ administration has a long and tough road ahead of it on this front, as the IDPs themselves seem to be losing hope. During the forum in Iligan, representatives of IDP groups could not contain their emotions as they aired their grievances. Some tearfully called out for help, and asked when they could return to their normal lives in Marawi, which they still call home. Some international aid agencies provide aid, such as the Global Community Engagement and Resilience Fund (GCERF), a Switzerland-based development agency that has been supporting initiatives and communities directly affected by the conflict. But the realities on the ground seem to indicate that full recovery for IDPs may be years away. 

“Kung pwede ulit magtayo doon, bakit hindi?” Acmad says about possibly rebuilding their home in Marawi. “Pero hindi ko makita yun na nangyayari, dahil siguro walang tumutulong sa amin.”

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