By Glen Andrea Omandam
As bitter as I may sound, I did not come to Hibalag looking for a fling. It is what people babble about weeks before the festival. There is something almost expected about Hibalag and romance. Between the lights, music, crowded booths, and late-night conversations, someone is bound to find someone. A glance becomes a conversation, a conversation becomes a hangout, and a hangout becomes a story that may or may not survive until the next semester. Personally, somewhere between the sleepless nights and 2 a.m. hangouts, I found something much more than a Hibalag fling; I found a family.
“Hibalag” means “to come together.” Perhaps that is why the name feels more meaningful to me now. Behind every booth, performance, and event are students who have spent weeks preparing for moments that people will experience for only a few hours. Hibalag would not be what it is without its student-led organizations. They stay awake until 3 a.m. fixing what needs to be fixed, eat whatever food is available, work on the floor surrounded by materials and half-finished ideas, and say, “Last na gyud ni,” knowing there is always another task waiting. They give pieces of their time, energy, and sleep to create something the people of Dumaguete get to celebrate.
For those who lead organizations, Hibalag is more than a festival. It is a test of relationships. Working with people is never as easy as celebrating with them. There are disagreements, miscommunications, and uncomfortable conversations. But I have learned that real connections are strengthened not by avoiding conflict, but by choosing to work through it. They grow through honesty, accountability, forgiveness, and genuinely wanting the best for one another.
Perhaps that is why the relationships I have formed through organizations mean so much to me. To Cuernos de Negros Mountaineers Club Inc. and the Weekly Sillimanian, thank you for becoming families I found away from home. Thank you for the sleepless nights, the difficult conversations, the laughter in between deadlines, and the spaces where we can be vulnerable while still choosing to understand each other. You have reminded me that family is not defined by the absence of conflict, but by the willingness to grow through it.
Hibalag ’26 has come to its end. The booths will come down, the photographs will remain in our galleries, the posts will disappear into our feeds, and the exhaustion will eventually become a funny story. But I hope we remember the people who made it all possible. I did not come to the festival with a fling, but I left with people who stayed.
