President Quirino

President Quirino, a town where the aroma of muscovado sugar hangs heavy in the air, mingling with whispers of history and the hum of modern life. It’s a place where sun-kissed fields stretch out like green tapestries, embroidered with stories of resilience and hope.

Crossroads of Dreams and Muscovado

Stories from the Past: On November 22, 1973, President Quirino was established as a separate municipality. This coincided with the Province of Cotabato’s division into the provinces of North Cotabato, Maguindanao, and Sultan Kudarat, pursuant to Presidential Decree 341 issued by the then-President Ferdinand Marcos.

Like treasured antiques, the people of President Quirino are a compelling fabric made from Maguindanaon, T’boli, and Maranao threads. Elders speak of Datu Pungto, a legendary leader whose wisdom guided generations a silent testament to faith and craftsmanship. But their voices also soften when remembering the challenges faced, a reminder of the struggle for peace and prosperity.

Festivities: President Quirino, however, refuses to be defined by its shadows. Its spirit dances to the rhythm of the Kulintang, bronze chimes calling forth the Muscovado Festival is celebrated every December 12, In which people must recognize the town’s own economic product which is Tagapulot or sweet Sugarcane.

Yet, whispers of challenges mingle with the sweet aroma of muscovado. The echoes of poverty and limited opportunities linger in the air. But the people of President Quirino are weavers of hope. Farmers, with calloused hands and sun-kissed smiles, coax life from the land, cultivating not just sugarcane but also dreams for a brighter future. Young minds, eager for knowledge, fill the classrooms, their voices demanding a path beyond the familiar fields.

The story of President Quirino is an unfinished weave, one where ancient threads intertwine with the vibrant hues of progress. It’s a story of struggle and celebration, of tradition and innovation, of a community rising above challenges with a quiet determination. It’s a story waiting to be told, sung in the chants of Darangen epics, whispered in the rustling leaves of sugarcane fields, and etched in the smiles of a people who choose to hope.



Do you have stories bursting at the seams, eager to find their way into the world?  Then join us around our digital campfire—we want people like you to tell stories!

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