After Work in Tabu-an: Home of the Giant Halo-Halo

I didn't really plan to stop. I was coming from work, still in my jacket, and spotted the blue roof of the Tabu-an covered court from the road. You know that feeling — tired, but not quite ready to head straight home? I parked my motor and walked right in.

The first thing that caught my eye was the plaque by the post, dated 2018: "Construction of Covered Court, Barangay Tabu-an, Estancia, Iloilo." The names are still there: Tom Villarin of Akbayan, Cong. Raul "Boboy" C. Tupas, and then-Kap Erie C. Ramirez, with all the kagawads listed below. I stood there reading quietly, then looked up and saw new tarps. Different kap na — it’s Hon. Joy Libo Salarozan now. The name Boboy Tupas still stands at the top, but faces have changed, time has moved on.

Inside, the court was quiet and empty. Your voice echoes loud against the blue pillars and high steel roof. The floor is dusted lightly by afternoon wind — nothing fancy, but clean, solid, and clearly well-used every single day.

I walked slowly around the walls, drawn to the murals. Two large hands gently holding a pink ribbon; inside, a bright trisikad — yellow and red, just like the ones everywhere in Estancia. Elsewhere: a tiger in tall grass, sweeping orange wings, a butterfly. Hindi siya perfect, pero may heart. Not perfect, but full of heart.

Taped to a whiteboard, a campaign poster made me smile: "IDO MO, HIGOT MO!" — Your dog, your leash. Orientation for the Responsible Pet Owner’s Campaign, January 30, 2026. Proudly marked #TABU-ONE. Direct, simple, purely Hiligaynon.

Beside the court stands a neat two-storey blue building. Inscribed clearly: "This Lot is Donated by: AMADO M. BARBA SR." Day care center below — a gift that keeps giving.

More Than Just Numbers

Tabu-an is small on paper, but full of life. It’s a young barangay — the biggest group of residents are children aged 5 to 9. You feel that energy everywhere you go.

Like the rest of Estancia, this community remembers Super Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan) in 2013 — when roofs flew away and schools collapsed. That’s why strong structures matter so much here. This court isn’t just for basketball. It’s an assembly hall, a health center, a safe shelter when storms come.

And then — The Giant Halo-Halo

This is the secret I didn’t know until someone said: "Ah, Tabu-an? That’s where they make the giant halo-halo."

It’s true. Residents here gathered to build a halo-halo the size of a small car, in partnership with Alaska Milk, during the 8th Giant Halo-Halo Festival. Right here — likely on this very same court — they layered crushed ice, sago, gulaman, fruits, then poured liters of evaporated milk. Weighing roughly 40–50 kilograms, it fed thousands of people. Kap Joy, the Mayor, and DOH officials were all there serving cups alongside neighbors.

Suddenly those murals made perfect sense. Hands holding something precious. This barangay knows how to gather. How to share. They aren’t just 857 residents — come summer, Tabu-an becomes the dessert capital of Northern Iloilo.

I stood in that quiet space and imagined it alive: kids with plastic cups, nanays lining up, ice melting fast under the sun, laughter echoing off the steel roof. That’s why they built it strong in 2018 — you need a place that can hold a giant halo-halo and a whole town.

I snapped a quick selfie under the tarp, still sweaty from the road, and walked out as the sun began to set. Behind me, the blue court turned soft gold.

Tabu-an may be small in the census, but it has a big reputation. Home of the Giant Halo-Halo Festival. A young barangay with a blue gym that serves as evacuation center, day care, vaccine site — and once a year, the biggest dessert bowl around.

Next time I pass by after work, ma tambay ko liwat. I’ll stop again. And if it’s summer? Maybe there will be halo-halo waiting.

— Mark Morales