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NATIONAL LIVING ARTISTS In April 1992, the Gawad sa Manlilikha ng Bayan or the National Living Treasures Award was institutionalized through Republic Act No. 7355 . Tasked with the administration and implementation of the Award is the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA), the highest policy-making and coordinating body for culture and the arts of the State. The NCCA, through the Gawad sa Manlilikha ng Bayan Committee and an Ad Hoc Panel of Experts, conducts the search for the finest traditional artists of the land, adopts a program that will ensure the transfer of their skills to others and undertakes measures to promote a genuine appreciation of and instill pride among our people about the genius of the Manlilikha ng Bayan. First awarded in 1993 to three outstanding artists in music and poetry, the Gawad sa Manlilikha ng Bayan has its roots in the 1988 National Folk Artists Award organized by the Rotary Club of Makati-Ayala. As a group, these folk and traditional artists reflect the diverse heritage and cultural traditions that transcend their beginnings to become part of our national character. As Filipinos, they bring age-old customs, crafts and ways of living to the attention and appreciation of Filipino life. They provide us with a vision of ourselves and of our nation, a vision we might be able to realize someday, once we are given the opportunity to be true to ourselves as these artists have remained truthful to their art. As envisioned under R.A. 7355, “Manlilikha ng Bayan” shall mean a citizen engaged in any traditional art uniquely Filipino whose distinctive skills have reached such a high level of technical and artistic excellence and have been passed on to and widely practiced by the present generation in his/her community with the same degree of technical and artistic competence.

GINAW BILOG (+ 2003) Poet Hanunuo Mangyan Panaytayan, Oriental Mindoro 1993 A common cultural aspect among cultural communities nationwide is the oral tradition characterized by poetic verses which are either sung or chanted. However, what distinguishes the rich Mangyan literary tradition from others is the ambahan, a poetic literary form composed of seven-syllable lines used to convey messages through metaphors and images. The ambahan is sung and its messages range from courtship, giving advice to the young, asking for a place to stay, saying goodbye to a dear friend and so on. Such an oral tradition is commonplace among indigenous cultural groups but the ambahan has remained in existence today chiefly because it is etched on bamboo tubes using ancient Southeast Asian, pre-colonial script called surat Mangyan. Ginaw Bilog, Hanunoo Mangyan from Mansalay, Mindoro, grew up in such a cultural environment. Already steeped in the wisdom that the ambahan is a key to the understanding of the Mangyan soul, Ginaw took it upon himself to continually keep scores of ambahan poetry recorded, not only on bamboo tubes but on old, dog-eared notebooks passed on to him by friends. Most treasured of his collection are those inherited from his father and grandfather, sources of inspiration and guidance for his creative endeavors. To this day, Ginaw shares old and new ambahans with his fellow Mangyans and promotes this poetic form in every occasion. Through the dedication of individuals like Ginaw, the ambahan poetry and other traditional art forms from our indigenous peoples will continue to live. The Filipinos are grateful to the Hanunoo Mangyan for having preserved a distinctive heritage form our ancient civilization that colonial rule had nearly succeeded in destroying. The nation is justifiably proud of Ginaw Bilog for vigorously promoting the elegantly poetic art of the surat Mangyan and the ambahan. (Prof. Felipe M. de Leon, Jr.)

MASINO INTARAY (+ 2013) Musician and Storyteller Pala’wan Brookes Point, Palawan 1993 Living in the highlands of southern Palawan are the Palawan people, who, together with the Batak and Tagbanwa, are the major indigenous cultural communities of Palawan. The Palawan possess a rich, intense yet highly refined culture encompassing both the visible and invisible worlds. They may not exhibit the ornate splendor of the Maranaw nor the striking elegance of the Yakan, but their elaborate conemology, extensive poetic and literary traditions, multi-level architecture, musical concepts, social ethic and rituals reveal a deeply spiritual sensibility and subtle inner life of a people attuned to the myriad energies and forms of luxurious mountain universe that is their abode, a forest environment of great trees, countless species of plants and animals, and a magnificent firmament. The Palawan have no notion of property. To them, the earth, sea, sky and nature’s elements belong to no one. Their basic social ethic is one sharing. Their most important rituals such as the tambilaw and the tinapay are forms of vast and lavish sharing, particularly of food and drinks, skills and ideas. The tambilaw is a collective cooking and sharing of rice which is a ritual offering to the Lord of Rice, Ampo’t Paray, while the tinapay is the rice wine drinking ceremony. It is during such occasions that the basal, or gong music ensemble, plays a vital role in the life of the community. For it is the music of the basal that collectively and spiritually connects the Palawan with the Great Lord, Ampo and the Master Rice, Ampo’t Paray. The basal enlivens the night long fast of the drinking of the rice wine, bringing together about one hundred guests under the roof of the kolon banwa (big house). The gimbal (tubular drum) begins the music with a basic rhythm, then enter the sanang ( pair of small gongs with boss and narrow rims) and one to three agungs (gongs with high bossed and wide turned – in rims). Basal ensemble playing is an accurate and wonderful metaphor for the basic custom of sharing among the Palawan . For in this music no one instrument predominates. The techniques of

interlocking, counterpoint, alternation and colotomy ensure a collective oneness. The two sanang play in alternative dynamics. When one plays loudly, the other plays softly. Contrapuntal patterns govern the interaction of the agung with the sanang and gimbal. It is the music of “punctuation, rhythm and color rather than melody”. Its very essence is creative cooperation and togetherness. A non-musical instrumental element of the basal are the young women’s rapid stamping rhythm of their foot as they move back and forth on the bamboo slatted floor of the kolon banwa, carrying taro leaves on both hands at their sides. This percussion dance is called tarak. Further highlighting the intensely poetic and subtle harmony of human beings with each other and with nature among the palawan are the kulilal and bagit traditions. The kulilal is a highly lyrical poem expressing passionate love sang with the accompaniment of the kusyapi (two-stringed lute), played by a man, and pagang (bamboo zither), played by a woman. The bagit, also played on the kusyapi, is strictly instrumental music depicting the rhythms, movements and sounds of nature, birds, monkeys, snakes, chirping of insects, rustling of leaves, the elements and the like. An outstanding master of the basal, kulilal and bagit is Masino, a gifted poet, bard artist, and musician who was born near the head of the river in Makagwa valley on the foothill of Mantalingayan mountain. Masino is not only well-versed in the instruments and traditions of the basal, kulilal and bagit but also plays the aroding (mouth harp) and babarak (ring flute) and above all is a prolific and pre-eminent epic chanter and story teller. He has the creative memory, endurance, clarity of intellect and spiritual purpose that enable him to chant all through the night, for successive nights, countless tultul (epics), sudsungit (narratives), and tuturan (myths of origin and teachings of ancestors). Masino and the basal and kulilal ensemble of Makagwa valley are creative, traditional artists of the highest order of merit. (Prof. Felipe M. de Leon, Jr.)

SAMAON SULAIMAN (+ 2011) Musician Magindanao Mama sa Pano, Maguindanao 1993 The Magindanaon, who are among the largest of Filipino Islamic groups, are concentrated in the towns of Dinaig, Datu Piang, Maganoy and Buluan in Magindanao province. Highly sophisticated in weaving, okir designs, jewelry, metalwork and brassware, their art is Southeast Asian yet distinct in character. In the field of music, the Magindanaon have few peers among Filipino cultural communities. Their masters on the kulintang (gong-chime) and kutyapi (two-stringed plucked lute) are comparable to any instrumental virtuoso in the East or West. The kutyapi is a favorite solo instrument among both Muslim and non-Muslim Filipinos, and is also played in combination with other instruments. It exists in a great variety of designs, shapes and sizes and known by such names as kotapi (Subanon), fegereng (Tiruray), faglong (B’laan), hegelong (T’boli) and kuglong or kudlong (Manobo). The Magindanao kutyapi is one of the most technically demanding and difficult to master among Filipino traditional instruments, which is one reason why the younger generation is not too keen to learn it. Of its two strings, one provides the rhythmic drone, while the other has movable frets that allow melodies to be played in two sets of pentatonic scales, one containing semitones, the other containing none. Magindanao kutyapi music is rich in melodic and rhythmic invention, explores a wide range of timbres and sound phenomena – both human and natural, possesses a subtle and variable tuning system, and is deeply poetic in inspiration. Though it is the kulintang that is most popular among the Magindanaon, it is the kutyapi that captivates with its intimate, meditative, almost mystical charm. It retains a delicate, quiet temper even at its most celebrative and ebullient mood.

Samaon Sulaiman achieved the highest level of excellence in the art of kutyapi playing. His extensive repertoire of dinaladay, linapu, minuna, binalig, and other forms and styles interpreted with refinement and sensitivity fully demonstrate and creative and expressive possibilities of his instrument. Learning to play the kutyapi from his uncle when he was about 13 years old, he has since, at 35 become the most acclaimed kutyapi master and teacher of his instrument in Libutan and other barangays of Maganoy town, deeply influencing the other acknowledged experts in kutyapi in the area, such as Esmael Ahmad, Bitul Sulaiman, Nguda Latip, Ali Ahmad and Tukal Nanalon. Aside from kutyapi, Samaon is also proficient in kulintang, agong (suspended bossed gong with wide rim), gandingan (bossed gong with narrow rim), palendag (lip-valley flute), and tambul. Samaon was a popular barber in his community and serve as an Imam in the Libutan mosque. For his exemplary artistry and dedication to his chosen instrument, for his unwavering commitment to the music of the kutyapi at a time when this instrument no longer exists in many parts of Mindanao, Samaon Sulaiman is worthy of emulation and the highest honors. (Prof. Felipe M. de Leon, Jr.)

LANG DULAY (+2015) Textile Weaver T’boli Lake Sebu, South Cotabato 1998 Using abaca fibers as fine as hair, Lang Dulay speaks more eloquently than words can. Images from the distant past of her people, the Tbolis, are recreated by her nimble hands – the crocodiles, butterflies and flowers, along with mountains and streams, of Lake Sebu, South Cotabato, where she and her ancestors were born – fill the fabric with their longing to be remembered. Through her weaving, Lang Dulay does what she can to keep her people’s tradition alive. There are a few of them left, the traditional weavers of the tnalak or Tboli cloth. It is not hard to see why: weaving tnalak is a tedious process that begins with stripping the stem of the abaca plant to get the fibers, to coaxing even finer fibers for the textile, then drying the threads and tying each strand by hand. Afterwards, there is the delicate task of setting the strands on the “bed-tying” frame made of bamboo, with an eye towards deciding which strands should be tied to resist the dye. It is the bud or tying of the abaca fibers that defines the design. A roll of tnalak must be individually set on a back strap loom, so called because of the broad band the weaver sets against her back to provide tension to the work. There is great strain on the weaver’s back and eyes, particularly since Tboli women are required to help out in the fields to augment the family income. It is only after the farm work is done that the weaver can sit down to her designs. Also, due to the peculiarity of the fiber, of its getting brittle under the noon day sun, working on it is preferred during the cool evenings or early morn. Lang Dulay knows a hundred designs, including the bulinglangit (clouds), the bankiring (hair bangs), and the kabangi (butterfly), each one special for the stories it tells. Using red and black dyes, she spins her stories with grace. Her textiles reflect the wisdom and the visions of her people. Before the 1960s, the Tboli bartered tnalak for horses, which played an important role in their work. Upon the establishment of the St. Cruz Mission, which encouraged the community to weave and provided them with a means to market their produce, the tnalak designs gained widespread popularity and enable weavers like Lang to earn a steady income from their art. However, the demand also

resulted in the commercialization of the tnalak industry, with outsiders coming in to impose their own designs on the tboli weavers. Ironically modern designs get a better price than the traditional ones. Despite this, and the fact that those modern designs are easier to weave, Lang persists in doing things the old, if harder, way, to give voice, in effect, to the songs that were her elders’ before her. Her textiles are judged excellent because of the “fine even quality of the yarn, the close interweaving of the warp and weft, the precision in the forms and patterns, the chromatic integrity of the dye, and the consistency of the finish.” She was only 12 when she first learned how to weave. Through the years, she has dreamed that, someday she could pass on her talent and skills to the young in her community. Four of her grandchildren have themselves picked up the shuttle and are learning to weave. With the art comes certain taboos that Tboli weavers are careful to observe, such as passing a single abaca thread all over the body before weaving so as not to get sick. Lang Dulay never washes the tnalak with soap, and avoids using soap when she is dyeing the threads in order to maintain the pureness of the abaca. Upon learning that she was being considered to be one of the Gawad sa Manlilikha ng Bayan awardees, tears of joy fell from her eyes. She thought of the school that she wanted to build, a school where the women of her community could go to perfect their art. (Maricris Jan Tobias)

SALINTA MONON (+ 2009) Textile Weaver Tagabawa Bagobo Bansalan, Davao del Sur 1998 Practically, since she was born, Salinta Monon had watched her mother’s nimble hands glide over the loom, weaving traditional Bagobo textiles. At 12 she presented herself to her mother, to be taught how to weave herself. Her ardent desire to excel in the art of her ancestors enabled her to learn quickly. She developed a keen eye for the traditional designs, and now, at the age of 65, she can identify the design as well as the author of a woven piece just by a glance. All her life she has woven continuously, through her marriage and six pregnancies, and even after her husband’s death 20 years ago. She and her sister are the only remaining Bagobo weavers in her community. Her husband paid her parents a higher bride price because of her weaving skills. However, he left all the abaca gathering and stripping to her. Instead, he concentrated on making their small farm holding productive. Life was such that she was obliged to help out in the farm, often putting her own work aside to make sure the planting got done and the harvest were brought in. When her husband died, she was left alone with a farm and six children, but she continued with her weaving, as a source of income as well as pride. Salinta has built a solid reputation for the quality of her work and the intricacies of her designs. There is a continuing demand for her fabrics. She has reached the stage where she is able to set her own price, but she admits to a nagging sense of being underpaid nevertheless, considering the time she puts into her work. It takes her three to four months to finish a fabric 3.5 m x 42 cm in length, or one abaca tube skirt per month. She used to wear the traditional hand-woven tube skirt of the Bagobo, of which the sinukla and the bandira were two of the most common types until the market began to be flooded with cheap machine-made fabrics. Now, she wears her traditional clothes only on speacial occasions. Of the many designs she weaves, her favorite is the binuwaya (crocodile), which is one of the hardest to make.

Today, she has her son to strip the abaca fibers for her. Abaca was once plentiful in their area, but an unexpected scourge has devastated the wild abaca crops. Now, they are starting to domesticate their own plants to keep up with the steady demand for the fabric. When she has work to finish, Salinta isolates herself from her family to ensure privacy and concentration in her art. At the moment, she does her weaving in her own home, but she wants nothing better than to build a structure just for weaving, a place exclusively for the use of weavers. She looks forward to teaching young wives in her community the art of weaving, for, despite the increasing pressures of modern society, Bagobo women are still interested in learning the art. Few women in the 1990s have the inclination, patience or perseverance to undergo the strict training and discipline to become a weaver. Salinta maintains a pragmatic attitude towards the fact that she and her younger sister may be the only Bagobo weavers left, the last links to a colorful tradition among their ancestors that had endured throughout the Spanish and American colonization periods, and survived with a certain vigor up to the late 1950s. (by: Maricris Jan Tobias) “If someone wants to learn, then I am willing to teach ,” she says. “If there is none…“, she shrugs off the thought

ALONZO SACLAG Musician and Dancer, Kalinga Lubugan, Kalinga 2000 History, they say, is always written from the perspective of the dominant class. It is not as objective an account as we were led to believe when, as elementary schoolchildren, we were made to memorize the details of the lives of Jose Rizal and the other notable ilustrados. History is about as impartial as the editorials we eagerly devour today, the ones that extol and chastise the exploits and the foibles of government, but with a distinct advantage: by virtue of its form, it takes on an aura of authority. And this authority is one ordinary schoolchildren and adults alike are hardly likely to challenge. Seemingly maligned by both history and popular media are the people of the Kalinga. Even in the earliest Spanish Chronicles, they were depicted as so hostile that Dominican missionaries were forced to abandon their plans to build Christian missions in the area. Their more recent battle against the Marcos administration’s plans to build a series of hydroelectric dams along the Chico River only added to their notoriety. The very name they have taken on was a label tagged on to them by the neighboring Ibanag and Gaddang. It meant “enemy” – a throwback, no doubt, to the days when head taking was a common and noble practice, intended not only to demonstrate bravery but, more importantly, to safeguard lives and property. Such was the emphasis placed on the fierceness of the Kalinga that, except for scholars, researchers, and cultural workers, very few know about their rich culture and heritage. Which is why the efforts of Alonzo Saclag, declared Manlilikha ng Bayan for 2000, become all the more significant. A Kalinga master of dance and the performing arts, he has made it his mission to create and nurture a greater consciousness and appreciation of Kalinga culture, among the Kalinga themse...