MARAWI: THIRD CHAPTER
Leaving the shores of Lake Lanao behind, the suffocating quiet of Ground Zero began to fracture as we approached the architectural epicenter of Marawi. For any traveler trying to comprehend the scars of the city, it is impossible to ignore the deep ideological hypocrisy that defined the conflict. The Maute and Abu Sayyaf groups entered Marawi under the black banner of ISIS, proclaiming a holy mission rooted in Islam. The grim reality of their occupation, however, shattered their own theological illusions: the very forces claiming to champion the faith were the ones who systematically targeted, desecrated, and destroyed the city’s mosques.
Nowhere was this contradiction more painful than at the Islamic Center of Marawi. Used by the militants as a primary command post and a prison for hostages, the sacred structure was treated with absolute irreverence. To look upon it during the aftermath of 2017 was to see a sanctuary broken by the very hands that claimed to revere it.
The Grand Mosque of Marawi after the siege, 2017. Image sourced from Wikipedia.
The original structure of the Jameo Mindanao Al‑Islamie, more popularly known as the Marawi Grand Mosque, was built between 1950 and 1970. Designed with three floors and a capacity to accommodate 5,000 worshippers, it served as the centerpiece of life for the Maranao Muslims. During the Siege of Marawi, however, the mosque was spared neither destruction nor desecration. When it fell into the hands of the ISIS, it served as one of the militant group’s command posts in the city where they kept weapons and hostages.
When government forces finally reclaimed the Islamic Center and liberated the city, the reconstruction of the Grand Mosque was rightfully designated as a top priority. It is, after all, the beating heart of the only Islamic city in the Philippines. Prior to the siege, the towering minarets of the mosque were far more than architectural landmarks guiding the daily movements of the Maranao; they were woven directly into the fabric of their existence. To lose the sanctuary permanently would mean erasing the definitive anchor of Marawi’s soul.
The task of reviving the devastated mosque began in August 2020, culminating in its inauguration in October of the following year. Reimagined on an unprecedented scale, the newly reconstructed sanctuary can now accommodate up to 20,000 people, making it by far the largest mosque in the Philippines by floor area. Beyond its vast prayer spaces, it stands as a holistic beacon of community, hosting a library and a madrasa, or religious school.
The Grand Mosque and Islamic Center of Marawi.
In a striking parallel to our morning’s rhythm, the Grand Mosque was closed to the public when we arrived, preventing us from stepping inside to explore its vast new interior, mirroring the locked gates of the Peace Park just a while ago. Remaining outside, nonetheless, did little to diminish the awe of the moment. We stood before the monumental facade, seizing the opportunity to capture photos of an architectural marvel now resplendent in brilliant gold. This shimmering new palette is a departure from the mosque’s historic green, but the shift feels entirely symbolic. In more ways than one, the gleaming gold surfaces catch the morning light to amplify a radiant new truth for the city: absolute revival is no longer a distant dream, and hope is close at hand.
The Renegade Duo posing in front of the vibrant, golden mosque.
Our journey into the soul of the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region had brought us face-to-face with the absolute extremes of human experience. In a single morning, we had traversed a profound psychological map: from the raw, frozen trauma of Ground Zero’s ruined wasteland, to the budding rebirth akin to the ancient, deep roots of a lake born of cosmic myth, and finally to the earned grandeur of a complete spiritual rebirth.
Marawi remains a city suspended between its scars and its sky, an unhealed wound that is nevertheless learning how to breathe anew. The five-month siege of 2017 may have left an indelible mark on the geography of Lanao del Sur, but as we finally turned our backs to the golden domes and made our way toward our next destination, I carried a definitive truth with me: you can flatten the concrete on the surface, but you can never dismantle a spirit that runs as deep as the Ranao. The horizon head is beaming gold.
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