Misnomers

Passing Molo plaza, you see a billboard bearing the city officials’ names and faces and flaunting a title given by a national entity that Iloilo is one of the “highly urbanized cities” across the country. Upon reading this claim, which rather only looks like a political poster of the officials simply because their names are spelled bigger than the citation itself, you begin to wonder.

You wonder whether the phrase isn’t too lofty a statement, especially because only a week ago, you were trapped inside the mall because the city’s main thoroughfares were flooded after only a few minutes of heavy rain. You wonder whether this speaks truth about a city whose streets reek of garbage and God-knows-what because of its clogged sewers.

Highly urbanized. Who said so? Shouldn’t the people from Iloilo themselves claim this? You wonder whether the phrase rather refers to the increased number of fast food outlets, BPO centers or BDO banks mushrooming every week everywhere. Seriously the phrase is given wrongly if it were to mean a progressive city. Your city cannot claim progress just because many establishments mushroom in and crowd the city and clog its sewers every single day. The clogged city sewers underground which could hardly be seen by an ordinary city dweller on an ordinary day only prove this claim very wrong.

You think twice, then. Maybe highly urbanized really means: Ati families lining the sidewalks or taong grasa living in the footbridges downtown because the city’s DSWD cannot offer them alternatives. Or perhaps highly urbanized means a new outlet of Andok’s or Mang Inasal whose daily garbage in front of their food tables smells like fart and rotting chickens.

Going further down the city on a Mohon Terminal-Villa jeepney, you try to seek some logic. Ah, yes, perhaps. Iloilo City is highly urbanized because recently it launched the new flyovers.

Passing the John B. Lacson maritime school, you wonder why your jeepney does not pass over the flyover. You wonder why you do not fly over. You are running late for an appointment because the jeepney is inching its way to get to the General Luna-Diversion Road intersection.

You assume the driver does not have to pass the flyover if he were to save for his family’s Passover. Why should he pass there when it obviously does not have any passengers for him to pick up? So now you are left only to look at the flyover, the towering structure above you where not so many cars and jeepneys pass.

So you go with the flow, joining a procession of cars slowing down into one direction, squeezing into whatever spaces are left by the blockade rendered by the flyover.

You think it is laughable that this small city has to build flyovers. Funny, everyone in their seats is rushing to get to their destination, while the flyover, which ought to facilitate traffic, is unmoving. It’s just too s[t]olid to care.

No, flyover; maybe it is an apt term for the structure.  Because below it, your mind now wanders; that it wants to “fly over” the reality that you’re running late to meet visitors from the national office in a city hostel.

But progress? No, flyovers do not mean progress. The structures rather block the progress for the people of the city. It delays students from their classes; it delays workers from their offices. The big structures that block wider passageways physically rob people of their spaces. Traffic congestion can never be removed by blocking the street itself with a prominent structure that rises and descends in less than 500 meters or so.

Aren’t flyovers supposed to redirect traffic in order to avoid bottlenecks and traffic glitches? But here you are, an ordinary city dweller, eternally trapped below the flyover. You realize that the structure is a farce for the city’s progress, because it does not bring you anywhere when you need it. It only delays you from going where you need to go.

Your mind has really just flown over. Your car has been unmoving for a long time. You think of explaining why you were late to meet your visitors. No wonder you now scram to alight from the jeepney at General Luna because your visitors from the national office must have been through eating their hotel breakfast and perhaps could not wait on you anymore. So you run, still bent on meeting them on time. At the hotel’s entrance, the big sign of the room rates again scream at you: “Economy P750.”

Economy, P750. Can this be another name applied in error? Perhaps the term applies to what ordinary Ilonggos can afford. Or does it mean to say it’s the reflection of the city’s economy? You ask again whether an ordinary Ilonggo can afford this economy. You wonder whether he or she can ever afford the city’s economy. Or are the city hotels only made for tourists like your visitors from the national office who could afford them because the travel papers you have arranged say they are on official business?

You now meet your visitors in earnest, complete with pleasantries and stuff. And after your cups of coffee which were paid for by your government agency’s office, you engage your visitors in a conversation about your good performance with your clients in the past quarter. You try to sound like you helped ordinary people a lot in their business which provides livelihood to many more.

You claim to them that these people have been helped by your intervention, but you can hardly cite the facts and figures that can attest to it. Have they been helped by what you did? How come they still depend on you on matters that concern their businesses? How come they would still ask for your lobbying to pay for their booth rental in the recent mall exhibit that they wanted to join?

When you report matters to the visitors from your national office, you speak as if you were able to help many marginalized and underprivileged people in your detail. You sound as if you have always improved people’s lives or helped them progress, so that these national people who think they know better could help you as if  they were messiahs sent to save the people in Iloilo from a sorry situation.

You don't wonder if you are a blabbering misnomer yourself.