Sitangkai: the Philippines’ southern frontier
Over the weekend, I found myself at the southernmost edge of the Philippines—Sitangkai, a remote municipality in Tawi-Tawi that lies closer to Malaysia than to Zamboanga or even Sulu's Jolo. Often dubbed the "Venice of the South", Sitangkai earns this moniker from its intricate network of waterways, where boats—not wheels—serve as the primary mode of transportation. But beyond this passing resemblance to the famed Italian city, Sitangkai holds a quiet charm that is entirely its own.
Sitangkai’s waterways converge at the so-called 'Boulevard'—a broad canal that stretches from the village’s main entry point, marked by a distinct welcome arch, all the way to the Municipal Hall at its farthest reach.
Set among islands and shoals that once sat at the heart of ancient maritime trade routes, Sitangkai has long been home to the Sama-Bajaus—our seafaring brothers and sisters who have thrived for generations through fishing and cross-island trade. Life here moves to the rhythm of the tides, and the culture is rich with traditions shaped by the surrounding Sulu and Celebes seas.
At certain times of the day, traders line the edges of the Boulevard, their wooden boats brimming with goods—from fresh vegetables and fruits to the day’s catch of fish. Buyers gather as well, negotiating prices and making their own offers in a lively exchange. I was there at around 5 p.m., and the place was still buzzing with activity.
Today, Sitangkai’s strategic location continues to make it a vital trading port, serving as a gateway for goods moving between the Philippines and neighboring Malaysia. In its floating markets, currencies are flexible—and stories, traded just as easily as goods, flow freely from locals, traders, and visitors alike. Here, borders blur and cultures converge.
Just behind the Municipal Hall sits the local high school. A graduation ceremony was underway when I visited. I saw graduates and their parents dressed in some of the most beautiful attire I’ve ever seen at such an event—vibrant, elegant, and deeply expressive of pride. Their joy was unmistakable, and rightfully earned.
Indeed, Sitangkai stands as a quiet yet enduring reminder of the Philippines’ maritime roots—and of our deep, living ties with our Southeast Asian neighbors, carried not by wheels, but by the open waters that have long connected our histories, economies, and lives.
The heat in Sitangkai was intense—the kind that clings to your skin. Thankfully, a boat selling ice cream came by, offering a much-needed break from the swelter. But more than the heat, it’s Sitangkai—its beauty, its people, and their warm hospitality—that will cling to me far longer.
