The Bagobo-Tagabawa of Upper Catigan, Toril, Davao City, are an indigenous community rooted in rich traditions and ancestral stewardship of the Mt. Apo foothills. Despite their legal recognition under the Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act, they continue to face encroachment from settlers, developers, and commercial interests. Their struggle is not only about land but about dignity, cultural survival, and ecological balance. As Chair and CEO of Coffee for Peace, Inc., and as President of both the Davao City and Davao Regional Coffee Councils, I have witnessed these challenges firsthand. The Bagobo-Tagabawa entrusted me with the title Bai Kasunayan, a sacred responsibility to walk with them in truth and trust. Through agroforestry initiatives and coffee social entrepreneurship, we have worked together to link their ancestral wisdom with sustainable livelihoods. This partnership demonstrates how indigenous aspirations can align with regional coffee development and climate resilience. Yet it also calls policymakers and the wider public to ensure that justice, inclusion, and ancestral land protection remain at the heart of development in Mindanao.

Encountering a Living Tradition
The Bagobo-Tagabawa are not just “coffee farmers” in a supply chain. They are guardians of stories, rituals, and land that carry centuries of wisdom. They live at the foothills of Mt. Apo, where their farms nourish both families and ecosystems. Walking with them through their coffee plots, I hear the rhythm of their weaving in the rustle of leaves, and I see their beadwork mirrored in the patient sorting of coffee beans.
The Struggles Beneath the Surface
But beneath the beauty lies a deep wound: encroachment on their ancestral lands. Resorts rise where Bagobo-Tagabawa rituals should be held. Outsiders attempt to buy or develop what the law already recognizes as inalienable ancestral domain. Despite the Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act (IPRA), enforcement is fragile. The NCIP warns, investigates, and maps—but settlers and businesses keep pushing in. These struggles are not just legal battles; they cut into the dignity and survival of a people who have been stewards of Mt. Apo for generations.
As President of both the Davao City and Davao Regional Coffee Councils, I see this reality mirrored across the region. Indigenous peoples hold the key to both ecological preservation and quality coffee production, yet they are often treated as obstacles to “development.” This contradiction must end.

Coffee as Pathway to Justice and Peace
At Coffee for Peace, Inc., we have committed ourselves to amplify the voices of indigenous farmers. In Upper Catigan and Binaton, we do not enter as “trainers” or “experts” but as companions. Together, we launched agroforestry projects that combine reforestation with coffee farming. We facilitated capacity-building so that Bagobo-Tagabawa coffee could reach specialty markets. We included them in Davao’s coffee tours, ensuring their narratives are part of the story told to visitors, journalists, and buyers.
For me, this is not simply about market linkages. It is about justice: ensuring that the Bagobo-Tagabawa receive fair recognition, fair pay, and rightful ownership of their narrative. It is about peace: restoring relationships between indigenous communities and a wider society that too often ignores or exploits them.


A Call to Policymakers
From where I stand as a leader in both local and regional coffee councils, I must raise a firm call:
- Protect ancestral lands with stronger enforcement mechanisms. CADTs are meaningless if resorts and private developers can trespass with impunity.
- Recognize indigenous agroforestry as central to watershed protection and climate resilience. Without the Bagobo-Tagabawa, Mt. Apo’s ecological balance will collapse.
- Invest in inclusive coffee entrepreneurship that uplifts communities, especially women and youth, rather than leaving them at the margins of the value chain.
Closing Reflections
Being called Bai Kasunayan continually reminds me that my identity as a coffee entrepreneur and council leader is inseparable from my role as a peacebuilder. Journeying with the Bagobo-Tagabawa has taught me that coffee is not just a commodity—it is a medium for ancestral land defense, ecological stewardship, and intercultural solidarity.
Their struggle is not theirs alone; it is the struggle of Davao, of Mindanao, and of a nation that must decide whether “development” will mean dispossession or inclusion. My prayer and my commitment are that, together, we will choose inclusion.












