RUNNING LATE FOR CLASS, RUNNING LATE FOR HOME: THE COST OF PROGRESS IN ANTIQUE

East-West Panay Lateral Road Project in Antique. —PHOTO COURTESY OF AMLIG ANTIQUE

PANDAN, Antique—I clutched my jacket tighter as the cold, damp breeze brushed against my skin. The stillness of dawn carried just enough quiet to stir my thoughts. Around me, fellow passengers hurried on, each eager to reach their destination.

It’s 5:30 a.m. “Hindi kaw karian ma-late?” My friend’s message read. Right, I have a 10 a.m. class. The van ride would take about two and a half hours, and another 30 minutes on a tricycle to reach my dorm.

Won’t I indeed run late? Probably. The question hit me harder than it should have. 

Still, sitting there in that half-asleep silence, I can’t help but think how speed has become such a measure of our daily lives. Everything now revolves around getting somewhere faster. But the faster we go, the less we see what we’re rushing past. As if moving quickly is the same as moving forward. 

And yet, between the curves of Antique’s mountains, that concept weighs heavier than it should. While we’re all busy rushing, the Department of Public Works and Highways’ bulldozers have been cutting through slopes. Trees and funds fall in places most of us will never see. They call it “development.” But some roads seem to lead outside the towns, deeper into the ground.

Greed and gold

The Mines and Geosciences Bureau and Japan International Cooperation Agency confirmed the presence of deposits of copper, gold, chromite, and silver in the upland areas of Antique—particularly Barbaza, Patnongon, San Remigio, Valderrama, and Sibalom—that have been proposed as part of a 3,715-hectare mineral reservation.

But the story of progress doesn’t end with the mines—it’s paved over by roads.

A 41-kilometer project cutting through the mountain ranges of Iloilo and Antique, passes directly through environmentally sensitive areas of the Central Panay Mountain Range. The route from Lambunao to Valderrama carves into forested ridges that overlap with the same upland zones now being eyed for mineral extraction. 

And so, the question writes itself: Are these lateral roads truly meant to shorten travel, or to shorten the distance between greed and gold?

The roads make the mountains accessible. The minerals make them valuable. And together, they make progress look suspiciously like preparation. If this isn’t alarming enough, I don’t know what is. This is a pattern too convenient to ignore. 

The Central Panay Mountain Range is not just another stretch of land. It’s a living spine—breathing, protecting, and feeding our island. Its forests hold rivers that quench our fields. Its slopes keep flooding at bay. A natural shed for typhoons. The more we cut into them, the more we endanger ourselves—our safety, our future, and our home. 

These days, even a sudden rainfall can cause rivers to overflow, while the mountains’ soil stands on the brink of collapse. The damage no longer spares even the provinces. Sadly, this isn’t just the result of clogged drainage systems or deforestation. One night, we sleep peacefully; the next, we wake up drowning in a system consumed by greed. 

As my van sped toward the town, I looked out the window at the faint outline of ridges in the distance—still standing, still holding on. I thought about how I was running late for class, but how, in a much larger sense, we’re all running late in protecting what’s left of this island we call home.

Because once the mountains are flattened and gone, no amount of progress can make the journey worthwhile.

Nicole Faith Montiel, 19, is a psychology student at the University of Antique. She is a musician and human rights advocate whose interests lie in navigating the human psyche, music, and social justice.

First published in CoverStory – December 21, 2025