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IT was a
most usual day in Bongao, when we set sail in a small
wooden lantsa to the island of Tabawan. Puffy cumulus
clouds dotted the bluest of skies reflected on a lapis
lazuli sea that faded into a translucent turquoise.
Indeed, it was the most usual of usually beautiful days
in the shallows of Tawi-Tawi. Alas, gray bands in the
horizon betrayed the fickleness of October weather, and
in no time we found ourselves huddled toward the center
of the small boat, wet to the bone.
“Is it
after that island?” I asked Hamka, my Sama research
assistant-translator who must have found my constant
inquiries about reaching the destination rather pregnant
with impatience and just a tad unreasonable. This was,
after all, the slow boat to Tabawan, the island of
music, dance and ritual. We were headed, perhaps, to
the farthest point in Philippine travel imagination,
eight hours from the provincial capital of Bongao.
I came
to probe the dance of igal, the Sama traditional genre,
but discovered more.
Tabawan
is a kampung ayer, a water village of the Sama Dilaut
people who are also referred to as Bajau. Life revolves
around the sea. Most of the islanders engage in fishing,
more as a matter of subsistence than for profit. As the
men fish, the women spend their time weaving their
rainbow-colored mats of amazing brilliance in color and
composition. These tepo, woven from the leaves of the
pandan plant that grows wild in the islands, display
artistic sensibilities that vary from island to island.
The
motifs and use of color in the tepo mark distinction
among the Sama communities and are displayed with much
pride during weddings and other social events. Yes, they
sleep on these mats, but they also dance and celebrate
rituals on them. The mats do more than define social
space. With their bursts of color like silent fireworks
on a two-dimensional plane, they seem to invite people
to revel in the richness of nature on land or in the
coral gardens of the sea.
Though
not as famous as the fabled mats of the island of
Laminusa, the mats of Tabawan display as much technical
virtuosity and aesthetic impact. Like all other mats
found in the region of the Sulu Sea, they come in a
double-mat form, that is, referring to a colorful sheet
framed and backed with a plain one. The tepo of Tabawan
interestingly take on a very “modernist” or
“contemporary” look in design with motifs of bold
zig-zag patterns known as seka kalis, literally the wave
patterns of a kris blade, interlocking lozenges and
graduated cubes reminiscent of op-art. Tepo from the
island of Sibutu show smaller ornamentation, or bunga
(literally, flower), similar to brocade songket textiles
that are woven with supplementary warp techniques.
Those from the
Island of Tandobas exhibit “naïve” elements of cloud-like figures and
stylized flowers in bloom.
Naïve,
modernist or otherwise, the tepo of the island
communities of Tawi-Tawi are known for the fine
strip-work in sabalang or plain weave that is
occasionally punctuated by triangular patterns achieved
through pukkoh or folding techniques. As this pattern is
difficult to produce, mats produced through this
technique are often prized over others. Pukkoh also
assure a tighter and therefore sturdier weave.
The
amount of time it takes to weave a tepo depends on the
minuteness of design patterns and the size of the mat.
It takes master-weavers like Majannay Mustal anywhere
from one to three months to weave a relatively ornate
tepo the size of a single mattress. Smaller prayer mats
of about three feet by three-and-a-half feet would take
about a whole day. Much larger mats of the size of five
feet by 10 would take about a year to finish.
Before
the actual weaving (aganom) can take place, pandan
leaves go through a 10-step process: gathering (animuk),
cutting (angottub), boiling (angalaga), drying (angallaw),
stripping (anganjangat), soaking (pinakambang), angallaw,
scraping (angambuhut), dyeing (anganjibi) and angallaw.
In
Tandobas, the dyeing process may be repeated up to three
times in order to achieve a high-quality color finish.
Contemporary weavers use powdered dye-stuff from China.
It is said that the use of dyes is a relatively new
phenomenon. In the past, tepo were not dyed. Undyed
white-on-white mats are still produced for igal djin or
shamans. These beautifully austere mats are sparsely
decorated with texturing techniques that alternate, for
instance, herring-bone patterns with plain weave.
As in
many other craft traditions in the Philippines, color
and pattern designs in tepo-making are rarely repeated.
Each mat is therefore a unique work of art all to
itself. This quality of nonrepetition affirms
individuality, gives value to diversity among
communities and emphasizes the importance of the ability
to innovate via continuous improvisation as benchmarks
of mastery. The rainbow-colored tepo of Tawi-Tawi
celebrate the blooming of folk expression in abundant
variation. |