DEATH, someone once said, is the big flaw. Sometimes, people can postpone it, lessen its physical pains, deny its existence -- but they can't escape it.

Last June 4, the celebrated last Bagobo weaver Salinta Monon from Bansalan, Davao del Sur, finally succumbed to the mysterious reaper. She was 91 when she joined her Maker.

"We mourn in the passing of a person born in ambiguity begot of a vanishing aboriginal race, marginal and inconsequential in every way, but one who died a giant of men," Bansalan Mayor Edwin G. Reyes said during the necrological rites.

In 1988, Monon was chosen as one of the two Gawad sa Manlilikha ng Bayan (Gamaba) awardees by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA). She was cited "for fully demonstrating the creative and expressive aspects of the Bagobo abaca ikat weaving called inabal at a time when such art is threatened with extinction."

The Gamaba award is the equivalent of the National Artist award given to individuals "engaged in any traditional art uniquely Filipino whose distinctive skills have reached such a high level of technical and artistic excellence."

The award hopes to "bring age-old customs, crafts, and ways of living to the attention and appreciation of Filipino life."

Such distinction was the reason why Reyes, in his message, said the death of Salinta was "an irreparable national loss." Her death ended an era that put Bansalan in the world map. "We lost a priceless cultural treasure," the mayor added.

After being conferred with the highest honor, Salinta was featured in a national television advertisement, went to Malacañang and rubbed elbows with then president Fidel V. Ramos, and traveled to the United States where she had a personal encounter with then president Bill Clinton.

She was also written about in several publications abroad.

But despite such achievements, she was completely unknown in her hometown.

"Ask anyone from Bansalan about her, and their reply would be, 'Salinta, who?'" said Lord L. Espina, who was then a town councilor and the person who made possible of my meeting with the national artist.

When Reyes became the town mayor, he took out Salinta from her barangay. During the town anniversary in 2007, she was given the recognition she rightfully deserved. She was also part of the grand parade that year and a program was specially made in her honor.

Not too many people have the opportunity of meeting her personally. One reason is that going to her place in the remote barangay of Bitaug was one hell of a rodeo ride. The only regular vehicles that pass her place are the so-called "skylab" motorcycles. Before reaching, you have to gallop over several potholes on the dirt road.

Salinta was still a little girl when she had watched her mother's nimble hands glide over the loom, weaving traditional Bagobo textile using fragile abaca fibers. At 12, she presented herself to her mother to be taught how to weave. Her ardent desire to excel in the art of her ancestors enabled her to learn quickly.

Salinta developed a keen eye for the traditional designs. According to New York-based anthropologist Cherry Quizon, one of the first people to meet her, Salinta's designs could be traced back to as far as 100 years.

Because of her weaving skills, Agton Monon -- who was a farmer -- had to pay a higher bride price to Datu Bansalan Barra for his wife. On July 4, 1946, Salinta and Agton tied the nuptial knot.

The couple was blessed with five children: only daughter Roda and sons Sayko, Elias, Marciano, and Danilo.

After her husband died in the early 1970s, Salinta tended the farm, took care of her children and continued weaving as a source of extra income as well as pride.

According to her, it took her three to four months to finish a fabric 3.5 meters by 42 centimeters in length or one abaca tube skirt per month. "It takes time but the result is great," she admitted.

Salinta used the technique she learned from her mother -- weaving using fiber from the abaca plant. The painstaking process begins with the stripping of the abaca plant to get the fiber for textile, drying the thread and tying each strand by hand.

There is also that delicate work of setting the strands on the 'bed-tying' bamboo frame. She said that the bud or the tying of abaca fiber was the thing that defines the design.

Salinta said that she was doing what her mother used to do. So, when she became one of the Gamaba awardees, she was lost for words to describe her emotions. All she could say was, "I was totally caught by surprise when I was chosen one of the country's folk artists."

In a tribute to the national artist, columnist Alexis Laura Feliciano wrote: "[Salinta] Monon had built a solid reputation for the quality of her work -- an achievement brought by her endless plodding in the field of Bagobo textiles even after her marriage and six pregnancies.

Although her role as wife to a man who loved tilling the soil required her to help out in the farm, the call of weaving remained strong, as it had been her mother's craft and eventually her own passion and source of pride.

"And so despite being a full-time mother and wife, Monon nevertheless continued working on her weaving. She never thought of giving up her craft even with the dwindling number of Bagobo women interested in weaving, as only a few women have the inclination, patience or perseverance to last through the intensive training and discipline to become a full-fledged weaver."

Serapion Metilla, known as the father of bonsai in the Philippines who is also from Bansalan, is one of the very few people who had the pleasure of meeting the young Salinta.

"She was still in her teens when I first met her," he said. "Soft-spoken and industrious she has not deterred to follow the footsteps of her parents in the art of weaving for she never wanted to wear other clothes than their own styles."

The death of Monon saddened fellow Bansaleños now living abroad. Zenita Acaba, who now lives in Australia, could not believe when she learned of her passing. "Are you sure?" she asked.

Edwin Bibera, who works in Fullerton, California, wrote: "Even if I did not get the chance to meet her in person I know that she is a source of pride for us Bansaleños. I've only seen photos of her but I'm happy that through her craft our town Bansalan is mentioned in the same breath alongside her creations."

"I have always wanted to meet a great artist like her," said lawyer Imelda Mabandos, who lives in Germany. "I feel bad I can no longer have that chance. Sayang. I should have done it earlier. But she lived a long good, though sometimes hard life I imagine."

Goodbye, Salinta Monon!