Why this town held on to the art of ‘patadyong’

Cecil Laguardia

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Why this town held on to the art of ‘patadyong’
What was once a dying craft has been revived by the residents of this town. Here's why

Women in Bagtason village, Bugasong town recalled that back in the ‘50s, majority of the houses had looms. The women helped augment the families’ meager income in farming by weaving patadyong, a hand-woven wrap made of soft cotton. 

This had been a convenient favorite of women, even using patadyong as a substitute to skirts. This sleepy village has been the hub of patadyong weavers since way back after the war , when invaders introduced the skill to the hardworking women of Bagtason.

Merly Canja, now 56 years old, still vividly remembers that when she was a child, most of the households in the village weaved patadyong to earn income on the side. The fathers engage in farming and fishing but the harvest and daily catch were never enough. She learned the intricate art of preparing the cotton threads and weaving by watching her grandmother and mother Conchita.

She says, “Nobody prodded me and my twin Daisy to learn weaving. We were interested and watched our Lola (grandma) do the work. Our first attempts were literally painful as you can hurt yourself stringing the cotton strips. In less than a month, we were more confident of what we were doing.”

CONVICTION. 'It was unacceptable for me to just let our weaving heritage go that easily,' says Mario, seen here with one of the weavers

“Daily, you hear the sound of wooden paddles beating the cotton lumps until they are soft and sturdy. Every house would be surrounded by these delicate strips being aired and dried. It was a normal sight in every house,” says Generosa Lam-an, 64 years old. The colors were once limited to blue and black because the dyeing materials were made of tree bark. Generosa adds, “The work was backbreaking but we persisted. Dyeing the lumpy cotton strips in a clay jar took a week. 

The finished products, the women collectively remember, were sold to local traders, or barter them for ginamos (fish paste), fish, kalamay (sticky sweet delicacy made of coconut milk and brown sugar) and other household needs. 

“The selling process was so disorganized that women just come out of their houses when traders came bringing their patadyongs and try to outdo each other so their products will be bought. Each patadyong was sold at P7.00 (US$.16) but at that time it was a significant amount – thus, girls like us were motivated to weave,” Generosa said, smiling fondly at this recollection.

Mario Escote-Manzano, now 44 years old, came back home to the province after becoming frustrated by the jobs he found in Manila as factory worker and security guard. As a child, he grew up following the life of both his mother and grandmother as weavers,

He found the tradition to be fading, and was alarmed.

“It was unacceptable for me to just let our weaving heritage go that easily. I went from house to house and started gathering the old looms and repaired them,” he says.

Never let it fade

PERSISTENCE. These people keep the tradition of weaving 'patadyong' alive

With the help of Antique Development Foundation (ADF), the Bagtason Loom Weavers Association was organized. Mario adds, “We also asked the local government officials of Bagtason to provide us with a center in the barangay (village) where we built a nipa-roofed house. It was very basic but it gave us hope because we have a place to come together.” 

They started as a group very much like the complex process of weaving patadyong – full of different threads that are a challenge to put together. But they persisted – with Mario bearing most of the pressure.

With a roomful of women, mostly older than him, to deal with daily and a growing clientele, he thought of giving up for countless times but stayed the course just the same. “I cannot bear the thought of leaving behind what we have built, and [I would] feel guilty for the rest of my life if I allowed patadyong to just fade away,” he explains with conviction.

With funding starting to come in, albeit very slowly, the center improved and became the display center for all of the loom weavers’ products. It’s also been the scene of many local and international visits. Mario said that their small village has become a tourist destination in the province.

Salvacion Escote, a 47-year old mother of six, was a newcomer to the weaving work. She learned four years ago with the help of a friend. She shares, “At first it was difficult. When you mess up with a thread, you have to go back from the first step. It taught me patience and determination.”

Salvacion got it after a month and since then never looked back. She loves working with shawls because it is “easy”. Now, she is trying to transfer the skills to her eldest daughter. 

Forty-year old Judy Alipe started weaving in 2008. For her, there was no other choice. She has four children and her husband became disabled after an accident. “You cannot really rush the learning process. It takes time, so you need a lot of persistence,” she says. A plus for her was that she does not need to leave home to work and she can take care of her family’s needs.

GENERATION TO GENERATION. Some women are now passing on the craft to their daughters

Passing it on

Gemma Manzano, 49, learned weaving when she was in elementary school by helping her mother on weekends and holidays. Smiling shyly, she said, “I am happy because I earn for my weekly school allowance.” She ventured to Manila, got married and her family went back to Bagtason. “I picked up where I left off. My husband’s carpentry and farm work are not that stable and I need to help him,” Gemma added.

When her husband died, 51-year-old Maria Edna Roquero leaned heavily on weaving to support the needs of her two children. Edna says, “I learned the craft when I was 12 years old. My mother taught me and I did the work on weekends.” Mario said Edna has special skills on complex designs that she usually earns higher than the rest of the weavers.

Edna did an order from Brunei with different designs. Her monthly income so far is P5000 (US$115). “It is a big help for my family. It has sustained us through the years,” she adds.

The youngest among the weavers is Marivic Escoto, 32, who started weaving when she was in high school. What she appreciates about the group is that, “We are able to help and learn from each other. Our association and ADF are blessings for us because they help us market our products.” Visitors who come to buy and visit, for her, provide them the opportunity to network and meet new acquaintances.

Mario’s dream for patadyong was echoed by the women – to be able to see it displayed in Malacañang Palace and get a crack at the international market. “Our biggest challenge is how to educate the next generation and encourage them to continue this tradition,” he said. “We cannot let it die. It will need a lot of well-meaning support from people who really have the heart for the craft.” – Rappler.com

For more details about the patadyong industry, and if you want to help, email adf@adfcrafts.net

Cecile Laguardia is Communications Manager of World Vision‘s Haiyan Emergency Response based in Tacloban City

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