The maturity of Iligan is slow and deliberate. In its 61 years of cityhood, the city stood witness to the unfolding of history. Iligan was an all-knowing and silent observer to many historic events.
During Spanish Times
• Iligan History(1) - by Ricardo Jorge S. Caluen
• Iligan History(2) - by Assemblyman Camilo P. Cabili
• Iligan History(3) - as published in the Symbols of the State(Republic of the Philippines).
During American Period
Iligan During the American Period By Prof. Patrocenia T. Acut
During the Japanese Period
Japanese Occupation in Iligan City By Prof. Leonor Buhion Enderes
This page will give the world a glimpse of a city fully-made. A city that rode time and history well; a city that has learned so much in its silence; a city who is ready for the future.
Plan of Iligan. 1898. SHM On Mindanao, the southernmost island in the archipelago, the Spaniards only managed to control some points along the coast. In Iligan, to the north, a fortress was built in the first third of the 17th century, and the town grew up around this.
An excerpt from "A Woman's Journey Through the Philippines" by Florence Kimball Russel
In the early afternoon we women went ashore sight-seeing, and found Iligan chiefly interesting for what it was not. On paper — Spanish paper, that is — the town is represented as a city of some magnitude, boasting handsome barracks for the soldiers, two beautiful churches, many well-built houses and shops, a railway running from the outskirts of the town to Lake Lanao, a handsome station for Iligan’s terminal of the line, and many other modern improvements, including fine waterworks.
In reality, Iligan is a little nipa-shack settlement, some of the nipa buildings being very pretty, to be sure, but hardly pretentious enough for city dwellings. As for the railway to Lake Lanao, all that is left of it are two old engines and some dilapidated cars in a discouraged, broken down shed on the outskirts of the village, the shed doubtless representing the handsome station aforementioned. Even the rails of the road have been carried away by the Moros to be made into bolos and krises.
Market-day, which comes every Saturday at Iligan, made a break in the dull uniformity of our several visits there. It was full of interest to everyone, for it is then the Moros come to town, like the beggars in the old nursery rhyme, “some in rags and some in tags,” but none in velvet gowns, no doubt because of climatic exigencies. It was a glorious day of dazzling sunshine, and the market-place fairly swarmed in colour, which blinded the eyes and warmed the heart. There were to be seen in sarong, or coat, or turban the faded reds and subdued blues that artists love, with here and there a dash of vivid green, scarlet, and purple, barbarously tropical.
More to come…
A recorded past is no more than a bygone present composed of the footprints made by human beings actually going somewhere but not knowing (in any extended sense), and certainly not revealing to us, how, they came to be afoot on these particular journeys.