By Herman M. Lagon
Growing up in Iloilo, similes were “as common as dirt” in our daily conversations. It was almost “like watching paint dry”–an inevitable part of life that you got used to. I learned to appreciate the beauty of similes from my parents, almost “as soon as I could walk and talk.” My teachers, “as wise as owls,” encouraged us to sprinkle our conversations and theme writing notes with similes, making them “as colorful as a fiesta costume.”
In a land “as beautiful as a postcard,” where the people’s spirits are “as high as the skies,” the contrast between the natural beauty of Iloilo and the grimy underbelly of our political scene could not be starker. Traditional politicians, “as slippery as eels,” promise the moon but deliver “as little as a drop in the ocean.” Their promises, “as light as air,” disappear “as quickly as a shadow at noon.”
The local political arena is “as predictable as the weather” during typhoon season–you know a storm is coming, but you are never quite prepared for its fury. Some politicians, “as proud as peacocks,” parade around, displaying their power “as though it were a badge of honor,” while their actions are “as rare as reliable as NGCP.” The citizens, “as hopeful as a child on Christmas morning,” wait for change, but at times our hope fades “as quickly as a sunset.”
Yet, the heart of Iloilo beats strong, “as resilient as bamboo.” We, the people, “as resourceful as ants,” find ways to thrive despite the political turmoil. We are “as tight-knit as a family,” supporting one another “as fiercely as a mother lion protects her cubs.” The community spirit is “as vibrant as the Dinagyang festival,” refusing to be dimmed by the “as murky as a foggy morning” political landscape.
In coffee shops and along the Iloilo River Esplanade, conversations flow “as freely as the arm of the sea itself,” brimming with ideas “as fresh as the morning dew.” Here, the youth speak of change “as eagerly as a farmer awaits the rain,” their ambition “as boundless as the sea.” They are determined to reshape their community “as skillfully as a potter molds clay,” aiming to clear the political air “as effectively as a strong wind sweeps away smoke.”
Local advocates for change, “as stubborn as mules,” refuse to be silenced. Their determination is “as solid as a rock,” unyielding in the face of adversity. They work “as tirelessly as ants,” slowly building a movement that grows “as steadily as a tree.” Their efforts, “as transparent as glass,” aim to bring accountability “as surely as the dawn follows the night.”
The battle for a better Iloilo is “as challenging as climbing Mt. Madia-as,” but the spirit of the Ilonggos is “as unbreakable as diamond.” The dream of good governance, “as precious as gold,” remains at the forefront of their minds, “as clear as crystal.” We all aspire for a political climate “as clean as a whistle,” where leaders are “as reliable as the sunrise.”
Amidst this struggle, the culture of Iloilo remains “as rich as a king’s banquet.” The streets are “as lively as a carnival,” filled with music “as sweet as a serenade.” The resilience of the Ilonggos, “as deep as the ocean,” continues to be our greatest strength, our unity “as firm as the foundations of the old Spanish churches” that dot our landscape.
As the sun sets on another day in Iloilo, the city glows “as bright as a jewel,” a testament to the enduring spirit of our people. Our journey towards change is “as long as the Jalaur River,” but we march on, “as determined as a marathon runner,” knowing that the path to a brighter future is “as necessary as breathing.”
In the end, Iloilo’s story is “as unique as a fingerprint,” a tapestry of hope, struggle, and resilience. Our people’s quest for good governance, “as old as time,” continues “as surely as the waves lap against the shore.” And in this quest, the power of similes—to illuminate, to connect, to inspire – proves “as invaluable as water in a desert,” a tool “as potent as a sword in a battle” for hearts and minds.
