Sign up on here if you don't have your mobile handy
You are going to create a patient management account. This account is designed to give your patients access to CogniFit evaluations and training.
You are going to create a research account. This account is specially designed to help researchers with their studies in the cognitive areas.
You are going to create a student management account. This account is designed to give your students access to CogniFit evaluations and training.
You are going to create a family account. This account is designed to give your family members access to CogniFit evaluations and training.
You are going to create a company management account. This account is designed to give your employees access to CogniFit evaluations and training.
You're setting up your trainer account. With it, you’ll be able to invite your group and guide them through CogniFit evaluations and training activities.
For personal use
I'm a health professional
For my family
I'm an educator
I'm a researcher
Employee Wellbeing
Developers
I’m a coach or sports professional
For users 16 years and older. Children under 16 can use CogniFit with a parent on one of the family platforms.
By clicking Sign Up or using CogniFit, you are indicating that you have read, understood, and agree to CogniFit's Terms & Conditions and Privacy Policy.
Located 137 kilometers southeast of Iloilo City, San Agustin (formerly known as "Malangabang") is a coastal town facing the Panay Gulf and the Guimaras Strait. In 2010, its population was roughly 22,000 people, relying on fishing, rice farming, and livestock. The town is known for the Binanog Festival, celebrating the local hawk-eagle dance.
But being remote and poor (annual revenue then was under PHP 25 million) often meant that national journalists rarely came calling. Local scandals, if they occurred, were settled in the barangay hall or the municipal session hall—not on primetime TV.
To understand the lifestyle of San Agustin in 2010, one must first understand the river. The town is traversed by the Jalaur River system, and during this period, the "river culture" was at its peak.
Unlike the urban centers of Iloilo City, where 2010 saw the rapid rise of coffee shops and bistros, San Agustin’s version of "chilling" was inherently tied to nature. The Baluarte and the various riverbanks served as the town’s natural plaza. In the afternoons, after the harvest or the day's labor, the river became the social hub. It was a lifestyle that prioritized relaxation in its purest form—swimming in the cool waters, washing carabaos, and the simple joy of dip-Ag (picnics) on the rocky shores.
For the youth of 2010, before the ubiquity of high-speed mobile internet took over the countryside, the river was the playground. It offered a lifestyle that was active and outdoors, fostering a tight-knit community bond that digital entertainment would later challenge.
While no high-ranking San Agustin official was imprisoned, COA reports from 2010-2011 flagged the municipality for irregularities in farm input procurement. Local farmers alleged that fertilizer and seedlings supposed to be free were either sold at a markup or never arrived. This was a quiet "fertilizer scandal" at the grassroots level—not a sexy political drama, but a genuine rip-off of poor farmers.
In a 2011 COA report on Iloilo municipalities, San Agustin received a notice of disallowance for PHP 1.2 million in questionable agricultural supplies—money that never reached the intended beneficiaries.
For a poor town, that is a scandal. Locals might call it "best" in the sense of "most damaging to public trust."
The only documented, multi-town controversy that swept through Iloilo in 2010—and which could have touched San Agustin—was the aftermath of the 2004 Fertilizer Fund Scam (which exploded in Congress by 2010).
If you are a researcher or a curious local, the "best" physical evidence is difficult to find online because CHED sealed the records for "privacy of minors" (most students were 20-21 years old). However, you can find:
Approximately 47 students were initially implicated as beneficiaries. However, only 12 were stripped of their diplomas retroactively. This selective punishment became the secondary scandal. Why were only 12 punished? Allegedly, their families refused to pay "hush money" to the administration.
What makes this scandal the best example of academic malfeasance in the region is the sheer audacity of the method. According to whistleblowers who spoke to local media (primarily The Daily Guardian and Panay News in late 2010):
The scandal pointed to a non-academic staff member—the IT head of the College of Engineering—who was allegedly operating a syndicate. He was terminated in May 2010, but no public criminal charges were filed due to "lack of direct evidence linking him to the money," a fact that infuriated the student body.