COTABATO CITY (February 23) — On a humid Ramadan night in Barangay Gambar, children craned their necks, elders clasped prayer beads, and a crowd whispered in unison: “Alhamdulillah.”
Then the lights came on.
In a burst of neon, the Gambar Endowment Center in Northern Kabuntalan, Maguindanao del Norte lit up the dark skyline — drawing cheers, tears, and chants of “Allahu Akbar” from villagers who once knew this place for firefights, not festivity.
“For us, this is more than decoration,” said Hadji Ahmad, a longtime resident who witnessed both the village’s worst battles and its slow rebuilding. “It reminds our children that Gambar is about faith now, not fear.”
The switch was flipped by Bangsamoro Interim Chief Minister Abdulraof Macacua, a son of the village better known in his guerrilla years as “Sammy Gambar” of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF).
As the building shimmered in green and white lights, mothers took photos on their phones while young boys ran across the courtyard, their laughter cutting through the night air.
“This used to be a place we avoided after sunset,” said a 62-year-old grandmother who asked not to be named. “Now we bring our apo (grandchildren) here to walk after iftar. It feels safe. It feels blessed.”
Built in 2020, the Gambar Endowment Center houses Islamic research materials and learning resources, blending traditional and modern teachings. During Ramadan, it transforms into a luminous gathering point — now on its sixth year of festive lighting.
Residents say the glow carries deep symbolism in a village once accessible only by river and battered by clashes from the 1970s to early 2000s. Concrete roads now connect Gambar to Cotabato City and other towns, part of post-conflict reconstruction under the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM).
Macacua himself has spoken publicly about the village’s painful past, even pointing to the roadside spot where his elder brother was killed in fighting decades ago.
“Barangay Gambar is very sentimental to me,” he once said.
On Thursday night, sentiment turned into spectacle — but also into something quieter.
As the call to prayer echoed and families lingered beneath the neon glow, a young father summed it up simply:
“Before, our nights were loud with gunfire. Now they are bright with faith.”
