My favorite antiques are the Maranao majestic rods that swished at a Lanao del Sur sultans command or when he stomped it on the ground for an order. I have Patis Tesorios stiff, tiny pastel baros now framed. And I value handmade baskets that have run their course through numerous hands and livelihoods, which Dave Baradas owned. I used to go nuts over Terry and Ricky Baylosis wooden colored dabakan (giant wooden drums) once found in mosques to call the Muslims to prayer and Henry Beyers Bontoc pipes and gong handles I couldnt resist purchasing.
The patina and inlaid mother-of-pearl, colonial furniture of Paulino Que left us in awe as Omeng Esguerras wooden collection. In the long run, its better that all those collections remain in private homes so they wont be ferried away to other countries. There are so many vanishing ancestral items gone to America and Europe.
Machines, laziness, and lack of interest in what traditionally Filipino, even ignorance of home industries and the lack of patience to work with the hands and eyes, have made the young remiss of what is Filipino. And those apply to Bagobo clothes hanging at Aldovinco Shopping Center. Muslims say they cant find any abaca-fiber tiny tops and trousers to sell anymore from this ethnic minority that occupy the lower slopes of Mt. Apo in Davao where they migrated from fear of conquerors to preserve their spirit of worship.
In the 80s, this tribe adopted me, and I noticed that the men wore two belts, one to hold the trousers and the other to support two knives one was the fighting knife and the other the working knife. Working knives were meant to be worn daily when they exchanged almaciga (resin), beeswax and the fruit of the lumbang tree, the biao, for fuel, rice, iron beads, shells, hemp, clay pottery, and salted and dried fish.
Like many indigenous women, their arms and ankles were encircled with shells and beads that were exchanged through barter from sea-side dwellers. Brass anklets and bracelets rattled with iron balls inside them. Did they weigh? Yes, they did, and I know this from a pair I bought in the Cotabato market.
Compared to mountain dwellers, the Tagalog maidens of Luzon wore a rectangular wraparound skirt, the tapis. More accurately, the women wore two tapis, a white ankle-length one and over it, a shorter colored one made of Chinese cotton called kayo, the Tagalog term for fabric. If it was red, it was called bangkuruhan, named after the bark of the mulberry tree that produced the color red when it was boiled.
The more elegant tapis, called talampakan, ironically is the Tagalog word for the soles of the feet. The most prestigious tapis was of silk and gold called kalumpata. Saya was the loose underskirt. Tops were called baro. The women and men wore the anib, the Tagalog term for a cloak, or the talukbong, a shawl. The uwi was a Tagalog word for a large cloth of several panels used as an undergarment during menstruation.
Basahan were ordinary work clothes. Damit was clothing for either sex. Giliw was a sackcloth or rough clothing. Gimay was labeled so for poor and worn clothes. Halos meant expensive clothes worn only for festive occasions. Sapin meant lining. Takdang was a garment worn below the waist.
To my surprise, upper-class Tagalog males and females fumigated their clothes with incense. Isnt that sophistication?
The camisa chinos were Chinese-inspired and made from fine, thin fabric from India. The chiefs had the distinction of wearing red chinanas, from the word tinina that meant tina or dyed stuff.
By the end of the sixteenth century, the manner of dressing for men had been affected by foreign influence. Dr. Antonio de Morga in 1603 said Tagalog gentlemen wore Spanish balloon pants (calzones balones) in place of the bahags worn to cover just his privy parts or loose pantaloons.