Welcome to the land of history and vision,
Where we speak with kindness, caring, and conviction.
Where valiant heroes, real and mythical, were born.
Where loyalty to family and faith is sworn.
In shining sun or raging thunderstorm above,
Resilient stays the Iloilo that we love.
This is the last stanza of “The Story of Seven,” a poem I wrote for a poetry writing contest held during the 2021 Iloilo Art Festival. Its title is inspired by the seven districts of Iloilo City, and its stanzas are crafted to showcase the beauty, delicacies, and historic relevance of each place. The last part of the piece unifies the districts through the values common to every Ilonggo: the virtues they hold and the pride they feel for their home province.
In this last stanza, there are three lines that I hold dear to my heart because they are dedicated to one of the most spectacular events in the Philippines. An event so beloved by locals and visitors alike that they flood the city’s streets whenever the fourth Sunday of January comes around.
The Dinagyang Festival, whose origins stemmed from dedicating festive celebrations to Santo Niño (the Child Jesus), is the most culturally significant religious celebration in the province of Iloilo. During this occasion, several presentations and competitions are held at various areas of the city, drawing spectators by the thousands regardless of the weather conditions. Hundreds of pop-up dining kiosks, food carts, souvenir stalls, and face-painting and henna tattoo artists line the pavements downtown. Sound systems are set to full blast, and news stations are primed to deliver the latest happenings to home viewers and listeners.
In the last decade, the highlights of Dinagyang have included the Kasadyahan, the Miss Iloilo Dinagyang, and the Ati Tribe Competition Proper. That’s in addition to the rites and festivities spearheaded by the Roman Catholic churches of Iloilo, in particular San Jose Parish Church, like the Fluvial Procession and Religious Sadsad (rhythmic dance). And just this year, the Iloilo Festivals Foundation, Inc. (IFFI) added a new attraction: the city’s first ever Ilomination Competition, held in the district of Mandurriao.
These goings-on were conceptualized, planned, and carried out to dazzle spectators and promote a sense of jubilation. Indeed, multiple vloggers, diplomatic ambassadors, political heads, celebrities, and influencers arrived to experience as many of the celebrations as they could. I’m thankful that the glamorous photos and breathtaking videos they upload will help promote the province to all parts of the world.
In the back of my mind, though, I can’t help but wonder if the image they portray of this festival truly includes the experience of a typical Ilonggo who has been going to Dinagyang for years. Because based on previous vlogs and posts, the reality can be vastly different.
It’s no secret that the Dinagyang of today is, for lack of a better term, commercialized.
Private sectors and business establishments have become more visible, as compared to the days of yesteryear, through events that highlight their sponsorship. The merry-making on the streets, usually making the local Ati tribes the star of the show and often inviting spectators to join, has been replaced with highly structured, restrictive arrangements. The applause that once echoed against the building walls and the cheers that used to resound through the air are now fragmented with the clicking and flashing of phone cameras.
Most noticeable of all, the Ilomination and Float Parade competitions were attended by VIP guests and celebrities, while ordinary Ilonggos and visitors from the provinces crowded behind their booths, hoping to catch even the tiniest glimpse of their performing representatives. I managed to view both the Ilomination and Ati Tribe contests in person, but getting there early hardly paid off. As close as I was to the performance areas, I could still only see the tops of the dancers’ heads. Those behind me could barely see anything at all. Only as the (Ilomination) contest was drawing to a close were we allowed near the judging areas.
A view of Judging Area No. 2 (SM City front facade) from the back, to the left of the audience booth. The bare space between served as the car parking area and walkway of pass holders during the early part of Ilomination.
Not to mention, the traffic along Diversion Road was atrocious, perhaps due to the mismatch of people’s expectations with the true itinerary of the event. Most people around me had hoped to mingle with the tribes and snap photos against the glowing costumes and backdrops. The danger of getting run over by the huge floats made that impossible.
I wonder if it would be better to separate the two, with the floats being paraded first, giving performers time to prepare, and the performances projected on large screens or viewing stations along the streets, between the judging areas. As much as I loved the stories behind every tribe’s presentation, I hate that only those close to the judges’ seats are given the chance to appreciate it.
Diversion Road traffic (left side of image) as seen on the SM City overpass. I couldn't get a picture closer to the other end (Injap Tower) due to the number of people shuffling to go down the stairs.
On the other hand, the inner street corners of City Proper (Quezon-Ledesma and Rizal-Mapa) are much too narrow to offer a proper 360-degree view of the dancers and warriors. Half the street was kept free of crowds to allow the tribes to pass through. The other half was partly reserved for the drummers and musicians. The street behind the performers was occupied by props, many of which were as tall as seven feet. The truth of it is, the current Ati Tribe competition only affords a 90-degree view, compared to the 180-degree view of street-dance competitions in the 2000s and 2010s.
A simple diagram of the lack of visibility from multiple standing viewers at the Quezon-Ledesma judging area. The blue boxes represent existent buildings.
While the current setup allegedly helps boost the economic and tourism sectors of Iloilo on a worldwide scale, it also encourages exclusivity, segregation, and class division. The street dances of long ago were quite simple, lacking any complex choreography whatsoever, but they did allow me to jump around as a child, joined by foreign and local tourists and their children. And I still remember how, another year, we managed to chat with professional photographers and biking clubs because we had enough time and space to move around.
It feels strange to recognize that the only way to enjoy a full performance without paying is through social media, where you can’t feel how the drums shake the ground or cheer along with the rest of the audience. On-site, we were crammed together like sardines in a can. The Drumbeats Competition is a great addition to the festivities and highly entertaining for music enthusiasts, but the performances there hold less impact compared to if they were accompanied by dancers actually moving to the rhythm.
Photo taken at Judging Area No. 3 (Quezon-Ledesma), 8-10 meters behind the drummers. This was the only picture I could take at this angle, because I was afraid that my phone would get knocked out of my hand and stepped on.
Prior to the pandemic, there was a suggestion somewhere online to contain the paid booths to one side, modifying their size and structure to accommodate enough people. Another was to have the drummers follow behind the dancers, similar to how they were traditionally positioned during street dances. Combining these two suggestions would actually leave two streets free for a standing-only audience. That’s 270 unobstructed degrees.
Additionally, a separate, smaller group of dancers or warriors could be added behind the drummers, executing a simpler show of their own to the same drumbeat as the main performance. The proposed setup would actually achieve the desired 360-degree view.
A second diagram compiling the suggestions I'd read online during the 2018 and 2019 Dinagyang. The arrows represent the perspectives of audience groups from different positions.
There were other aspects of the festival that could use some tweaking with the help of the organizers.
The vendors downtown were working hard to draw customers and buyers to their merchandise, but more often than not, vloggers will feature restaurants and products already owned by larger companies. It would be nice to see several interviews with the small-scale business owners from downtown, so they too could benefit from the influx of non-local tourists.
The cellular signal jam (which somehow turned into a full shutdown) affected many areas of the province, reaching as far as the neighboring island of Guimaras. According to several local news stations broadcasting live, many online businesses, food delivery services, and even an ambulance and rescue hotline was affected. It’s hard to swallow the idea that in order to promote some sectors of the city’s economic structure, other sectors have to be temporarily neglected.
The waste and destruction generated by the aftermath of these celebrations are barely talked about afterwards. News stations will often flash pictures of sacks of garbage or trampled flower beds, and no follow-up on how to address these issues during next year’s event is released. We're talking about truckloads of plastic bags and bottles that will take a long time to decompose naturally.
This is why I’m hoping that recycling bins and stations can be set up and visitors encouraged to throw their garbage at these appropriate places. It's easier to clean when trash has already been sorted and stashed properly. And I’m sure Señor Santo Niño would be much happier if His devotees took care of the world He’d created.
Lastly, I noticed that Dinagyang 2023 was lacking someone special. Jollibee was obviously the star mascot at this year’s festival, but to not have some mention of Dagoy was rather confusing. The adorable, original promotional mascot of Dinagyang was supposed to turn 20 this year, but there was barely a trace of him during the weekend. He might not be a religious icon, but he has served to remind Ilonggos that Dinagyang would not be what it is without the influence of the Ati-Atihan and the presence of our indigenous communities. The festival is theirs to be proud of too.
Maybe at some point in the future, part of the profits from souvenirs with his image can be donated to the province’s various indigent communities. Many of them need more resources for health care, education, and housing.
A video of Dagoy dancing to Hala Bira Iloilo, courtesy of gendakitan's YouTube channel. Dagoy first appeared as a caricature in 2002, then fully developed in 2003 and introduced as a full-body mascot in 2004.
Overall, the experience was very much an upgraded, modernized cultural showcase from Ilonggos, but not as much for. The dancers, drummers, choreographers, musicians, musical directors, costume designers, managers, and staff behind every tribe did wonders despite the setbacks left by the pandemic. Their love for their craft shines through, and their dedication to doing their best cannot be compared. They are the cream of the crop of performers, and they deserve every win and every word of praise they’ve garnered for their hard work.
I do wish there was a better way to reach out directly to the groups and give them support. The average Ilonggo might not be able to contribute as much money as private corporations, but small, accrued grassroot donations channeled through cash apps can help other competing groups afford better props and materials for their costumes.
A special shout-out to the Tribu Panaad drummers who were in full costume and who managed to amp up their drumbeats by dancing at the same time. The people from our spot were elated to have something to watch.
Dinagyang this year was truly bigger, bolder, and brighter. I believe many Ilonggos enjoyed going around the city with friends and family after having been cooped up because of numerous lock-downs. I also believe, though, that taking this economic evolution of the festival too far might leave the struggling members of the population behind. I hope that next time, all aspects of Dinagyang can be witnessed by everyone, not just those who wish to prioritize the glitz and glamour of the festivities over their more humble meaning and purpose.
Viva Señor Santo Niño!
