In the quiet corridors of the old Iloilo Airport, before it was demolished and became Iloilo Business Park in Mandurriao, one used to pass a massive wall with no advertising slogan, no commercial promo—just a list. But not just any list. It was a proud litany of “firsts” that seemed too many for one place, too bold for a single province. “Iloilo’s Firsts,” it read in quiet serif, like history whispering its greatness. For many of us—teachers, students, employees, jeepney drivers, seafarers, sari-sari store owners—it was more than a list. It was proof of quiet excellence, a reminder that Iloilo is not just a place, but a statement: “Una kami.”
Long before highways and high-rises, Iloilo was already laying foundations—both literal and spiritual. In 1566, one of the first Christian churches in the Philippines rose quietly in Dumangas. By 1575, the Tigbauan Church was established by Augustinian missionaries, followed by Arevalo, becoming the region’s religious center in 1582. Guimbal became a parish in 1590. By 1607, the Jesuits had built San Jose de Placer in Plaza Libertad, now home to the Santo Niño replica and cared for by the Augustinians. Jaro Cathedral started as a chapel in 1587 and was rebuilt in 1874 into the national shrine it is today. Molo Church, built in 1831, stands out with its Gothic design and all-female saint lineup—rare outside Manila. Miagao Church, completed in 1787, is a UNESCO Heritage treasure with a façade carved like a prayer in stone. These are more than old churches—they quietly carry centuries of Ilonggo faith and craftsmanship.
By 1592, Iloilo was once again ahead, as Jesuit priest Pedro Chirino opened the country’s first formal school for boys in Tigbauan—428 years before DepEd’s K to 12 was fully rolled out. The province did not stop with Jesuit schools. Opened under the American regime, the Iloilo National High School (1902) in La Paz and the Baluarte Elementary School in Molo, were the first provincial high school and public elementary school in the country. And let us not forget the nursing training school at Iloilo Mission Hospital in La Paz, which produced the first Filipino graduate nurses in 1909. That same hospital? The first one built by Americans in the islands. It is no coincidence that institutions like Colegio de San Jose (1872), West Visayas State University—then Iloilo Normal School (1902), University of San Agustin (1904), and Central Philippine University (1905) are still anchors of academic excellence in the country today. They are not just schools; they are testaments to Iloilo’s lifelong commitment to education.
By the 1800s, the province was not just learning—it was leading commerce. The first department store in the country? Iloilo’s Hoskyn & Company in 1877, nearly three decades before the Americans brought their idea of retail chains. And who could forget Loney & Co., the first foreign business house in the country, with a British vice-consul stationed right here? Iloilo was already hosting consuls from Denmark, Belgium, and Portugal before some islands even had paved roads. We exported sugar to Australia, shipped textiles to Europe, and managed an international port with the elegance of a modern hub. In fact, Iloilo’s rise as a trading and political capital was so unprecedented that by the end of the 19th century, it was dubbed “The Queen City of the South”—a title earned, not self-proclaimed.
Iloilo printed the first Hiligaynon novel, ran the first press outside Luzon, and opened its first bookstore way back in 1877. By the 1880s, it already had consulates from Europe and merchants from as far as the Middle East. It built the first government-led museum and became home to SEAFDEC, Asia’s top aquaculture research hub. In Santa Barbara, irrigation transformed farmlands—and even golf courses (also first in the country)—before “sustainability” was even a word. From staging the first Hiligaynon zarzuela to publishing the country’s oldest school paper, Iloilo moved ahead—not to impress, but to express.
Now, lest we think Iloilo’s firsts were only in church pews, chalkboards, ledgers, or newsprint, let us stroll back to the streets—specifically, the Montinola Highway, from Forbes Bridge to Jaro Plaza. Cemented in 1910 using Japanese-imported cement, it was the first concrete road in the Philippines. While other cities were battling dust and mud, Jaro—already a chartered city by 1891—was cruising on smooth roads. Double-decked buses roamed our streets. Modern cinema houses, railways, telegraphs, and even ice plants—all found a home here before they landed in most of the country.
And when it comes to getting places, Iloilo was first in both air and sea. In 1932, the Lopez brothers launched INAEC—the country’s first airline—with its maiden flight from Iloilo to Manila in 1933. Soon after, the Iloilo-based De la Rama Steamship Co. unveiled the SS Don Esteban, the Philippines’ first luxury liner. Today, John B. Lacson Maritime University—Southeast Asia’s first and only maritime school—keeps that legacy alive, training Ilonggos who sail the world.
Names from Iloilo also echo through disciplines many of us may only learn about in bar exam reviews or science fairs. Melquiades Gamboa of Jaro became the first Filipino to earn a Doctor of Laws from Oxford University. Dr. Josette Biyo, who has a minor planet named after her, reminds us that Ilonggos can stay grounded and still reach the stars. Long before hashtags and headlines, Graciano Lopez Jaena was already shaking empires with words—founding La Solidaridad and sparking minds long overshadowed by Manila-centric memory.
Culturally, Iloilo has always been open and layered. Molo had Chinese traders before the Spaniards docked. In 1900, the Jaro Evangelical Church welcomed the first American Baptist missionaries, and Barangay Calvario in Janiuay became the country’s first Protestant barrio. Even our festivals make history—Dinagyang, vibrant and rooted in community, was the first in the world backed by the United Nations to champion its global development goals. And if you have ever wondered why one star on our Philippine flag originally honored Panay, it is because this island—of which Iloilo is the heart—raised the flag early, loud, and proud on November 17, 1898, in defense of both land and liberty.
Of course, all this progress would mean little without its human faces. Captain Jose Calugas of Leon was the first Filipino to receive the U.S. Congressional Medal of Honor. Soldier Ramon Subejano of New Lucena received distinctions from not just the United States but also Belgium and France. In the arts, Magdalena Jalandoni remains a towering literary figure. Her typewriter might be silent now, but her words still punch. And then there’s Eugene Torre, chess prodigy from La Paz, who became Asia’s first international grandmaster. His victories were never just personal—they were cultural wins in a world that too often expects quiet obedience from Filipinos.
Modern Ilonggo success stories also rise quietly but steadily. The 9.3-kilometer Esplanade, stretching across nine phases, is the country’s first and longest linear park. The Iloilo City Hall is the first government green building in the country. And in education governance, Iloilo’s provincial government pioneered the elimination of matriculation fees in public elementary schools long before any national policy mandated it. These are not mere records. They are acts of will.
In a country often obsessed with Metro Manila narratives, the history of Iloilo serves as a gentle but firm counterpoint. We were first—not because we demanded attention, but because we paid attention. To detail. To craft. To people. To culture. To values. And while others made noise, we made progress. Our “firsts” were never about fanfare but function, not about conquest but contribution.
Perhaps the most heartening part of this long list is that it’s still being written. The Iloilo of old was a textile powerhouse. Today’s Iloilo exports IT talents, topnotch seafarers, and community leaders grounded in service. From the humble soil sample that led to Ilozone and Ilotycin—two globally recognized antibiotics named after Iloilo—to our growing reputation as a UNESCO Creative City of Gastronomy, the Ilonggo community continues to innovate, albeit with less noise but more substance.
So, the next time someone asks what makes Iloilo special, skip the scripted tourist pitch. Just pause and remember: this is where the first school stood, where the first church rose, where books were printed, where flights began, where women marched, where medals were earned. Here, progress is not trend but tradition. And even if others forget, we remember—not for nostalgia’s sake but for responsibility. For it is not enough to inherit a legacy. We must live it, teach it, and, if we are brave enough, add our names to the next page.
Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.
