It's a thrilling adventure treading the rain-glazed streets of Pastrana Park in Kalibo, listening to the faint ambience of drums and xylophones everywhere, and watching a variety of multitude blending in the merrymaking of people in their tribal Ati costume which took more than months in preparation.
It's just them living out the lyrics of a song, “Let's sing a song of cheer again. Happy days are here again.” Transiently, the once vehicle-flooded Kalibo central square is beautified with colorful adornments, flattened tinnies, and devotees and tourists alike paying homage to the so-called “Mother of Philippine Festivals” held annually every third week of January in all parts of Aklan province.
Not that it's nationally acknowledged, though. Nationwide media stations are not even giving this joyous occasion a bit of cameo in their newsreels. But as the cannonade of drum rolls and smoke-like tempest of celebration fade away, a certain alarming picture is being unveiled: Ati-Atihan but no Atis visible. What an irony.
It's saddening to know that the Atis are often unacknowledged for being the Panay natives, or for playing a part in being the centerpiece of Ati-Atihan festival, aside from the latterly added patron saint in the province.
The chronicles say it's due to Ati's hospitality towards the Malayan datus that made their foreign visitors-turned-settlers celebrate and gratify the Ati's spectacular kindness to them by painting themselves black and joyfully danced along with the tribe, giving birth to precolonial Ati-Atihan.
The last time I've seen Atis being given worth is when a televised interview featuring an Ati was conducted during a celebration in the year 2013. After that, none was ever heard of them being significantly celebrated or given acclamation alongside Senior Sto. Niño again.
This year's celebration saw Atis just selling their items on the gutter alongside other local traders, with some rumors saying that they're paying for their slot in that trading place. Some are watching with their whole family sharing a minute meal alongside the pavement where merrymakers usually march, get drunk, and scream “Hala Bira! Porya Pasma!” Not a single significant privilege was given to the ethnic group that was the namesake of the Aklanon Mardi Gras.
With or without Ati-Atihan, Atis’ lives have been unheard of to Aklanons. There were only few news about someone aiding their community, courtesy of private or public sectors, and after that, there are no other news featuring their culture, their lifestyle, their achievements, or their current status in terms of social or political issues.
All we know is that their communities are dispersed across Panay. There has been no significant spokesperson speaking on their behalf in Aklan. The last time they finally raised an intellectual to represent them, his life was immediately robbed from him after he was infamously assassinated, allegedly upon orders of his adversaries.
Can Ati-Atihan still be celebrated for cultural and identity preservation's sake, or is it now just a plain misrepresentation of a forgotten history minus one of its significant participants?*
Kent Jofher is a 2nd year student taking up BS Psychology at the University of Saint La Salle. He is also a part-time literary writer, a poet, and a history enthusiast.
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