CULTURE & ARTS – The last Bagobo weaver remembered

By Henrylito D. Tacio
“Have you meet Salinta Monon already?” Councilor Lord Espina of Bansalan, Davao del Sur asked me question while I was on my way home one fine Thursday afternoon.
“Who is she?” I inquired.  “I have never heard of her.”  Espina went on to explain that the national government had recognized Monon with the Gawad Manlilikha ng Bayan (GAMABA) in acknowledgement of her priceless contribution to the country’s art and culture.
That caught my attention.  Although I did not know about the GAMABA award either, I decided to listen to Espina since there must be some reasons why Monon was given such distinction. 
“Will you go with me this coming Saturday?” Espina asked again.  “I will be going to her place and perhaps you can interview her.”  I took a deep breath, wondered if I should go, but it seemed that he wouldn’t accept no for an answer. So I said, “Sure.”
I was glad I said yes.  I found out later that the GAMABA award is the equivalent of the National Artist award given to individuals “engaged in any traditional art uniquely Filipino whose distinctive skills have reached such a high level of technical and artistic excellence.” The award hopes to “bring age-old customs, crafts, and ways of living to the attention and appreciation of Filipino life.”
Not too many people have had the opportunity to meet Salinta personally. One deterrent is the remoteness of her barangay, Bitaug, which can be reached via dirt roads that can only be traversed by so-called “skylab” vehicles (motorcycles to which wooden planks have been strapped to accommodate other passengers).
Although Bitaug is just about six kilometers away from the national highway, it would take some thirty minutes to visit her place.  But once you have the opportunity to see her, it would be an honor.
Salinta was weaving when I first saw her.  She was busy but when she saw us standing outside the door. She stopped and said, “Dayon mo” (the Visayan words for “Come in”).  We did and my eyes wandered around the place.
She was shy and a woman of few words.  She wouldn’t say a word unless you asked her.  To start our conversation, I asked her about her encounter with US President Bill Clinton (as I saw her picture together with him).
The encounter happened at the White House.  “I was weaving,” she said, “and he came to me.  I think he was asking me but since I couldn’t understand what he said, I just smiled and went back weaving.”
Salinta grew up in Bitaug, a place inhabited by the Bagobos.  She was still a little girl when she watched her mother’s nimble hands glide over the loom, weaving “ikat,” a cloth made from abaca fibers.  At 12, she asked her mother to teach her how to work the loom.  In just a matter of few months, she quickly excelled in the craft.
She was a teenager when she developed a keen eye for traditional designs. According to New York-based anthropologist Cherry Quizon, one of the first people to meet her, Salinta’s designs could be traced back to as far as 100 years.
It was a matter of time that a man named Agton Monon caught her attention.  But because of her weaving skills, the groom, who was a farmer, had to pay a higher bride price to Salinta’s father, Datu Bansalan Barra, so he could marry her on July 4, 1946.
The couple was blessed with five children: daughter Roda and sons Sayko, Elias, Marciano, and Danilo. After her husband died in the early 1970s, Salinta tended the farm, took care of her children and continued weaving as a source of extra income.  “I do weaving if and when I have time,” she said.
Alexis Laura Feliciano, in an article which appeared in “The Manila Times,” observed: “She never thought of giving up her craft even with the dwindling number of Bagobo women interested in weaving, as only a few women have the inclination, patience or perseverance to last through the intensive training and discipline to become a full-fledged weaver.”
According to Salinta, it would take her three to four months to finish a fabric that measures 3.5 meters by 42 centimeters in length.  One abaca tube skirt can be finished within a month.  “It takes time but the result is great,” she said.
The painstaking process begins with the stripping of the abaca plant to get the fiber for textile, drying the threads, and tying each strand by hand. What follows next is the delicate task of setting the strands on the “bed-tying” bamboo frame.  The bud or the tying of abaca fiber is what actually defines the design, she explained.
For Salinta, she was just doing what her mother and grandmothers did before her. So when she was named as one of the GAMABA awardees by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA) in 1988, she was completely lost for words to describe her emotions. “I was totally caught by surprise when I was chosen one of the country’s folk artists,” she said.
But despite her achievements, she was relatively unknown in her hometown.  So when Edwin Reyes became the town mayor, he took out Salinta from her barangay.  During the town anniversary in 2007, he bestowed on her the recognition she rightfully deserved. She was also part of the grand parade that year when a program was held in her honor.
In 2009, Salinta died peacefully.  “Born in ambiguity from a vanishing aboriginal tribe, she died a giant among men.”  Such was the tribute of Mayor Reyes when he learned of Salinta’s demise.
Reyes referred to Salinta’s death as “an irreparable national loss.”  It ended an era that put Bansalan in the world map. “We lost a priceless cultural treasure,” the mayor added.
Tributes from those who used to live in Bansalan came pouring out when they learned of Salinta’s death. 
Serapion Metilla, known as the father of bonsai in the Philippines and who also hails from Bansalan, is one of the very few people who had the pleasure of meeting the young Salinta. “She was still in her teens when I first met her,” he said. “Soft-spoken and industrious, she was determined to follow in the footsteps of her parents in the art of weaving. She never wanted to wear clothes that were not of their own culture and style.”
Edwin Bibera of Fullerton, California, wrote: “Even if I did not get the chance to meet her in person, I know that she is a source of pride for us Bansaleños.  I’ve only seen photos of her but I’m happy that through her craft, our town Bansalan is mentioned in the same breath alongside her creations.”
“I have always wanted to meet a great artist like her,” said Attorney Imelda Mabandos. “I regret that I no longer have that chance. ‘Sayang’ (It’s a pity). I should have done it earlier. But she lived a long, good, though sometimes hard life, I imagine.”