By Maria Congee S. Gomez
Inquirer

ZAADERA “DIDA” Basmala, 45, juggles her time tending to a “carinderia” or small canteen) and weaving on the side.

A widow for the past 10 years, Dida is raising her five children with ages ranging from 11 to 22 by herself. Her dream is to see them complete their studies, so that, in her words, “they can have better jobs in the future.”

The carinderia has been a big help despite the competition. Like Dida, most of the women in Barangay Amilo, Dayawan, Lanao del Sur, have no other means to augment the family income except tend a carinderia and, in their free time, engage in loom weaving.

Dida says that one point, loom weaving was in a precarious state. The craft that she and others like her learned from their mothers, who in turn learned it from their own, had been relegated to the back seat mainly because of poor returns.

That young Maranao women are leaving home and desperately seeking a better lifestyle in urban centers does not help matters any, she says.

Happily, things are looking up for the endangered centuries-old craft. The Dayawan Weavers Association is showing the way.

Indonesian traders

Loom weaving in Lanao is a craft believed to have been introduced by Indonesian traders long before the coming of the Spaniards and the Americans.

The local people’s resistance to foreign subjugation enabled them to preserve the craft, which provided them a steady source of income. The woven products were used to buy grains, fish, other basic necessities, even cattle.

When mercerized cotton was introduced during the American period, weavers were forced to buy raw materials.

The presence of third-party traders in the marketplace was not of help, as they dictated terms that weavers often found unfair.

Also, the entry of modern clothing materials at a fraction of the cost of locally woven products lowered the demand for the latter.

Not only did the profitability of woven products decline, a number of artisans also showed waning interest. The influence of modernization was that strong.

Meanwhile, Dida’s weaves, which she had hung on the walls of her home, were gathering dust. Each time she ran her fingers on them, she uttered special prayers to Allah for buyers–to no avail.

Changing times

Amilo is not the only barangay beset with the grim reality facing loom weaving. The decline is also prevalent in the municipalities of Balalabagan, Madalum and Tugaya.

Times have changed, the weavers say. They anticipate a sudden gain, a windfall, from their craft, but actually they spend the money even before receiving it.

And to think that Dayawan was once popularly known in Lanao as the center of expert weavers.

(The majority, or 92.59 percent of the residents have not gone to school. Only 5.56 percent finished secondary education, and a measly 1.85 percent went to college.)

If this were the Spanish period, the woven products would have been deemed important merchandise–as gifts by members of the nobility to their guests.

The Philippine Foundation for Resources Management (PFRM), a nongovernmental organization based in Marawi City, has a clear grasp of the situation.

Its acting chairman, Cosain Madale, derives inspiration from preserving the Maranao cultural heritage for the young generation.

“Loom weaving is at an alarming stage. Parents have become so busy eking out a living that they have forgotten to train their daughters. We fear this might hasten the obliteration of their heritage, and therefore we must find ways to preserve it, or strike a balance between what the modern and the traditional can best offer,” says Madale.

Early snags

In the Maranao social organization, husbands and wives equally share decisions in running the household. But it is the women who imbue in the children the responsibility needed for future family life, including passing on the craft to their daughters.

It was not easy to discuss development plans with the women, Madale recalls.

The husbands would not allow their wives to mingle with other men despite Madale’s being a Maranao (he lives in Marawi City, and is thus considered of another origin).

It was not much different for a female development worker.

Mariz Limpo, program officer of the Philippine-Australia Community Assistance Program (Pacap), recalls that initially, not one among the 40 women who came to the PFRM center welcomed her. Her being a Christian made matters worse, she says.

Moreover, a community that had been pampered with funds doled by local government officials without benefit of sustaining objectives appeared to have no patience to engage in serious discussion of, say, a project proposal.

At the mention of policies, marketing strategies and counterpart sharing, the weavers quickly remarked: “When will the funds come in?”

But the NGOs recall that the succeeding meetings saw the women earnestly beginning to talk about the dire situation of loom weaving in Dayawan.

In time, everyone proved interested in working for the cause of the craft.

In the six months within which the project proposal was made and approved, the women underwent intensive capacity-building seminars and workshops.

Empowerment

Buckling down to work was quite easy after all concerns were laid out and addressed, says Madale.

The husbands did not mind their wives’ late-night meetings, knowing this was a woman thing.

(Still, as the days wore on, when the women devotedly applied themselves to preparing the reports they were required to submit, the menfolk began to question whether the late-night meetings would be of benefit to them. When orders–and the resulting cash–started coming in, the men wanted to know: “What about us?”)

The PFRM reports that the women have organized themselves into the Dayawan Weavers Association, with a set of officers and registration with the Securities and Exchange Commission.

They are mapping out plans for nearby trade fairs, and eyeing the marketing aspect of their products.

Pacap executive director Lody Padilla is quite happy about the changes among the loom weavers of Dayawan.

Padilla says it was Pacap’s holistic approach that developed the women’s sense of discipline. “We have guided them to avoid unsuccessful moves, and taught them to be sustainable by looking at the whole thing on a long-term basis. These are what have strengthened their self-esteem and self-respect.”

Maranao loom weaving has highly adhered to a creed of stylized designs.

Believing that they are now ready to face the challenges of the market, Dida and friends have expressed willingness to adapt Western and Christian patterns in their designs.

While there have been apprehensions regarding the extent of flexibility as far as designs and colors were concerned, Dida says she and her co-weavers are thinking of ways to make certain changes in order to draw more clients.

The Dayawan Weavers Association is bracing for bulk orders. Their products come in attractive forms–cover folders, bags, coin purses, blankets, table runners and pencil cases, among other items ideal for corporate giveaways.

“For us to survive, we need to mix commerce with the preservation of our tradition. It should be complementary in nature so that one does not obliterate the other,” Dida says.