7:30am - No Eclipse	8:40am - 80%	The 1988 Eclipse in The Philippines In the West, I could see it getting darker as the Moon's shadow approached at nearly a kilometre per second. The horizon was turning red as the sky turned a deep blue.
9:00am - 98%	9:04am - Totality

The plane descended over coconut and banana plantations set amongst volcanic hills. Davao is a city on the southern Philippine island of Mindanao. Most tourists to these islands visit the beaches, tribal areas, and discos further North. I was one of a handful of people who had come to see the total eclipse of the Sun in the next few days. A two hour bus ride across the green landscape took me to a town called General Santos City. It was on the centre line of the eclipse.

The area is not famed for its tourist sights so accommodation was limited. An Eclipse Task Force had been set up by the city authorities arranging home stay places with local families. Not many visitors had come for this eclipse. A civil war had been raging over parts of the island. I stayed with the Cortez family in a large house near the centre. There was a large palm-lined garden to while away the evenings. Friends of the family were frequent visitors to play marjong. I was the centre of attraction: why have you come? are you a scientist? do you like Philippinas? are you married? Even around the town I was an object of curiosity.

One day I relaxed in the main plaza. A group of school girls shyly approached. Hello, said one, where are you from? I said I came from England. They smiled and continued. What language do you speak in England? It was my turn to smile. English I told them. Can you teach us? they asked. What would you like me to teach you? I responded. Science. Oh, I said, Which Science? The wanted me to teach them about astronomy; in particular about the forthcoming eclipse. Questions and answers passed between us; others arrived and after a few minutes a large crowd had formed around me. The eclipse was on everybody's mind.

As the crowd drifted away, a young man approached me. He asked if I would like to be interviewed by the local radio station, called DXCI FM. It sounded fun and I had never been on the radio before. The staff told me that several groups of professional astronomers had arrived in town. They had been asked for interviews but had declined due to being busy preparing their equipment for the eclipse. I, on the other hand, was not a professional. I was here a week before the eclipse to absorb the atmosphere and meet people. The station controller appeared to like me. Would I be interested in answering questions during a phone-in? Yes. I would. Before I knew it I was in the studio. I sat with a pretty female DJ called Lady Love. For two hours she played disco records and took phone calls from people asking questions about the eclipse. I answered questions like:

Will the eclipse cause the end of the world?

Was it safe for pregnant women to look?

Was I married?

Which part of the United States was England in?

It was a fun time, everybody was friendly and I received many invitations to dinner. My answers were a mixture of fact and humour. I was invited back twice more. Since the station was next door to where I lived, I didn't have far to go.

One day in the plaza, I noticed people on the roof of city hall. Journalists were planning to use this as their vantage point. I went to the roof and met Ken. He was the American doctor with whom I had seen the 1983 eclipse in Java. We both decided that this roof would make an excellent viewing site for the eclipse. The city and its people would be laid out below us, the eclipsed sun above, and the distant mountains all around. It was not difficult to obtain permits to watch the eclipse from here: the mayor had heard about my exploits on the radio! We were still there as the sun set. A crowd of people, young and old had appeared and I gave a star party and another eclipse talk. That night I arrived home clutching gifts of pineapples, beer, bamboo pencil cases, bananas, coconuts, and a model of a fish made of shells. People were certainly friendly.

Eclipse morning at 5:30 was clear. There were clouds over the distant volcanic peaks. It took me five minutes to walk to City Hall and stake my place overlooking the plaza. Next to me there appeared Ken's triple headed tripod, as used in Java. Behind us were press photographers from around the world, groups of astronomers from Manila, Japan and the USA, some college students, and a handful of travellers. Patchy clouds appeared in the sky.

The plaza below began to fill up with the curious citizens of General Santos City. Shops, businesses and schools had closed for the day. One of the more pleasant aspects about eclipses is that they occur roughly once every 350 years in a particular location. This means that when I travel to see one, it is an unknown experience for the locals. I spent the next hour advising people how to observe the eclipse safely and take interesting photographs.

At 7:51 the partial phase of the eclipse began. Soon, the bite was clearly visible through our filters. Below, hundreds of filters were pointing skyward and an excited murmur was audible. After an hour, the light had mellowed and the crowd became subdued. In the West, I could see it getting darker as the Moon's shadow approached at nearly a kilometre per second. The horizon was turning red as the sky turned a deep blue.

Totality with corona and prominences.

The end of totality came after 3 minutes and 22 seconds, but by then I had lost all track of time. A huge diamond ring appeared banishing the darkness. Whoops of delight emanated from the people on the roof and those in the plaza. It was the only topic of conversation the rest of the day. Several students told me they now understood why I had come so far to see the eclipse. An old man told me that this was the first time anything in the Philippines had been on time. Others said they would never forget this day. It was different to Java where all the locals had hidden in their houses and watched the event on television.

Eclipse fiesta in General Santos City.

Near the market there was a festival of dancing - the day had been turned into a public holiday. The city authorities had given out Eclipse Certificates to everybody. The few foreigners were being asked to sign these. Everybody wanted their photograph taken with us. I amassed dozens of pieces of paper with (mainly female) names and addresses. Several people interviewed me using tape recorders. I assumed this was yet another student project. Instead I found myself quoted in some of the next day's newspapers.

The next day I sadly left General Santos City to begin a fifteen month trip through Asia. News got around that I was leaving and a group turned up at the bus station to see me off. With my hosts, the Cortez family, were several of the young students I'd met and some of the staff from the radio station. I was the subject of many photographs. Mangoes and guavas were given to me for the journey ...

Photo of totally eclipsed Sun by Noritsugu Takahashi (© 1993)
All other photographs and text by Kryss Katsiavriades (© 1997)

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