Meeting a Weaver of Dreams

How we came to be squatting barefoot on the bamboo floors of a T’boli hut in Lake Sebu, South Cotabato is attributable to one person: Lang Dulay. We heard that this National Living Treasure lived ten minutes from where we stayed, so the decision to ride the habal-habal, a motorcycle fitted for passengers—against our better judgment—came easy.

Lang Dulay’s home looked like every other stilted hut in the area. What was different, however, was that inside, unfinished meters of Tinalak—the woven cloth of the T’bolis—were stretched on beams across the floor, ready for the tribe’s dreamweavers to turn dyed string into intricate patterns that told their people’s history.

Lit softly by sunlight peeking through bamboo walls, Lang Dulay appeared frail, standing a little over 5-feet. When she walked closer, however, her quiet presence filled the room, with only her native dress and beaded hair ornaments making hushed noises as she moved. Her translator confides, “It is customary for T’boli women to receive guests looking their best, which is why she took the time to dress for your visit.”

She quietly watched as her students told us that in her old age, Lang Dulay mostly oversees designs, while they do most of the weaving. “There are some, though, that she still weaves herself,” they tell us, as they unfurled a 7-meter Tinalak, and pointed to Lang Dulay’s signature on the edges. We asked almost solemnly if we could run our fingers over the silky, black-and-red weave, in awe at how the strings stretched across the floor would, over three months of toil and genius, turn into the beautiful cloth before our eyes.

We ask her students how to say thanks in their native tongue, wanting Lang Dulay to understand, with nothing lost to translation, the depth of our gratitude for the rare gift of meeting her and seeing her work. “Tey bong salamat,” they said. Before we could repeat those words, Lang Dulay smiles and utters them, her hand on her chest in a heartfelt gesture of gratitude.