THE air hums with gongs as sunlight glints off beads, mirrors, and metallic threads, sending sparks of color through the crowd. In Davao City’s heart, dancers move in rhythm, their garments telling stories stitched and woven by generations.
Each step turns a page in a living book of heritage. From highlands to coasts, the 11 ethnolinguistic tribes wear their history — mountains in triangles, rivers in zigzags, and ancestral wisdom in flowing curves. At Kadayawan, these designs unite as symbols of survival, pride, and identity.
Ata beadwork is art in motion — bold triangles and zigzags stitched onto jackets and accessories, mirroring the jagged rise of mountains and the winding flow of rivers. Natural fibers like abacá and rattan often frame these designs, rooting the artistry in the very landscapes that inspire it.
The Bagobo–Tagabawa guard the legacy of inabal, an abacá textile dyed with the ancient ikat technique. Woven on backstrap looms, inabal radiates deep reds, blacks, and earth tones, with iconic motifs like binuwaya (crocodile) rippling across skirts, sashes, and ceremonial wear. National Living Treasure Salinta Monon is remembered as the last Bagobo weaver to fully master the traditional form.
For the Matigsalug, dark base fabrics become the canvas for embroidered diamonds, zigzags, and bead panels. These motifs, tied to stories of rivers and mountains, are worn proudly on the chest, often fringed with layered beads that sway with every step in a dance.
The Obu-Manuvu (or Ovu Manuvu) are unmistakable in their palette of striking red, black, and white. Jackets and headdresses overflow with tassels, cross-stitch, and elaborate beadwork — bold declarations of identity and pride.
The Moro groups of Davao bring with them the elegance of Islamic artistry and the cultural imprints of centuries of coastal trade.
For the Maranao, two symbols reign supreme: okir and sarimanok. Flowing plant-based okir motifs unfurl across malong, langkit bands, and carved props, while the multicolored mythical sarimanok bird soars across festival displays.
The Maguindanaon wrap themselves in the shimmering stripes and checks of inaul, a handwoven textile so valued that it has an annual festival of its own. Shot with metallic threads, inaul transforms every malong or formal garment into a piece of living regalia.
Close neighbors, the Iranun, also carry the okir tradition but with their blend of curving and angular designs. Shields, boats, and textiles display the curling leaves of pako rabong or the coiled form of the mythical naga.
The Kagan (or Kalagan), coastal people of the Davao Gulf, merge Moro textile heritage with their seafaring identity. Their malong bears geometric patterns, while beadwork and shell ornaments recall the cultural tides that have long connected Mindanao’s shores to distant lands.
The Sama (or Badjao) are masters of tepo or banig mats, woven from pandanus, buri, or rattan into exact, colorful geometries. During Kadayawan, their boat culture shines, with lepa or djenging houseboats and ukkil/okir carvings gracing props and displays.
The Tausug captivate with the pis siyabit, a square headscarf of intricate geometric grids, paired with the boldly patterned suwal/badjaw attire. Even their weapon hilts and wooden crafts bear the graceful curves of okir.
As the gongs fade and the dancers take their final bow, the colors remain — in the cloth, in the stories, and in the people who wear them. At Kadayawan, heritage doesn’t just survive; it dances, it sings, and it lives on in every thread. DEF