I am a proud Duljoanun. I was born and raised in Barangay Duljo-Fatima, once widely known as the tartanilla capital of Cebu. Back then, the tartanilla did not need a press release. It did not need branding. It had routes, passengers and a purpose. After a long day on the road, the horses and paradista would park right in our barangay, proof that culture was not being performed. It was simply working.
Fast forward to today and the tartanilla has achieved an impressive promotion. It has retired from daily transport and been reassigned as a cultural celebrity.
On regular days, it is nowhere to be seen. On special days, it suddenly reappears polished, posed and punctual. The electric bike now does the heavy lifting. The tartanilla waits patiently for festivals, visiting dignitaries and events with banners large enough to justify its presence.
Then comes the Asean moment.
During tourism driven gatherings of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (Asean), the tartanilla becomes an overnight icon. Cameras love it. Delegates admire it. Brochures frame it as living heritage. Cebu, we are told, is proud of this tradition. Very proud. At least for the duration of the program.
Heritage, apparently, now operates on an events calendar.
The irony is elegant. A mode of transport that barely transports anyone is celebrated as cultural sustainability. Paradista who once worked daily now work occasionally. Routes are shortened. Appearances are timed. Culture has been downgraded from necessity to novelty.
This is not an attack on tourism or modernization. Asean tourism frameworks speak eloquently about authenticity, inclusivity and community-based livelihoods. But authenticity does not survive on choreography alone. A tartanilla that only moves when the cameras are rolling is not living heritage. It is set design.
If Cebu wants to align honestly with the Asean tourism agenda, then heritage must be supported beyond symbolism. That means real routes, real regulations, real welfare standards for horses and real income security for paradista. Otherwise, we are not preserving culture. We are curating nostalgia with good lighting.
I am proud to have lived in a time when the tartanilla did not wait for applause. It moved because people needed to get somewhere. No lanyards required.
Culture that only appears when the world is watching is not preservation.
It is performance.
And once the delegates leave and the banners come down, the tartanilla returns to its true status.
On standby. Awaiting the next photo opportunity.