MANILA, Philippines?Amid the majestic Lake Sebu, not far from the center of conflict, a craft and art form has taken root that mirrors the natives? flair.

In a dim shack perched on a village called Lamdalag, home to about 4,000 people, a group of women weavers is laboring over looms and intricate designs that have gained global fame for the fabric?s exceptional range.

In a longhouse that sits on a quite street in Sitio Tukolefa, the work of women belonging to the Weavers of Dreams appeals to the younger T?boli generation.

A cultured old woman in kimu (dress) opened the wooden doors of the ancient house. Across the floor of natural fibers of krungon (abaca) in intense hues, she led visitors into the workshop.

Meet Lang Dulay, the last master weaver of a great cloth, a rough and warm fabric signifying South Cotabato?s countryside.

The red, white and black fabric known as the t?nalak is undisputedly the art most identified with the T?bolis.

Lang passionately talks about the cloth, with her grandchild Delmo interpreting.

An acknowledged national artist through the Gawad sa Manlilikha ng Bayan by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA) in 1998, she is one of the country?s living treasures.

At 12, she started weaving the hard way, thanks to her ancestors who passed on the art.

The graying Lang has become an exceptional weaver that she can fashion a t?nalak from scratch with over a hundred designs, including the bankiring (hair bangs), the gondong sungi (classic), the bulinglangit (clouds) and the kabangi (butterfly).

Experts have evaluated her works as outstanding based on the precision of shapes, authenticity of color, and symmetry of the products, which are currently on display at the National Museum.

Lang has woven more than a thousand cloths spread to art aficionados worldwide.

Even with her fingers now wrinkled by age, Lang, 85, continues to work in the workshop-cum-school.

Patiently bonding fine threads through a roll of abaca string, she fashions a 10-meter fabric blooming with nature shades of brilliant red, bright white and pitch black.

Thirty-five young mothers have been trying to learn from her. They, too, try to work with patterns that could show their artistry, with Lang?s guidance.

Having only two sons, Lang tirelessly teaches willing learners, mostly young mothers, ?so the t?nalak will not become a lost art in the future.?

?The men are tasked with harvesting, stripping and softening of abaca fibers, then tying them together for dying using saps from different roots of trees. It takes about two weeks to achieve the deep colors. The threads are dried, all set for the women to work on,? Lang said through her grandchild.

Since the creation of the workshop, 15 women have graduated and now help pass on the wisdom and skill to other T?boli mothers.

Striking designs

?All we can do now is keep trying to make t?nalak so striking that people will find it hard to refuse,? Lang says.

The workshop shows how she has taught women to help her preserve the art and in the process, help them to provide for their families.

Every six in the morning, 26-year-old Josephine Malanao readies herself to attend the morning session of weaving. It has been like this since she studied the art five years ago.

?T?nalak weaving is like facing loads of struggle,? the mother of six young children says, ?primarily because only a few like to study.?

While the dwindling figures of weavers may spell the loss of the art, Lang embraces this as a challenge.

?My students will go on whirring in the hope that, eventually, more women will be encouraged to join,? she said.

Livelihood

Lang said she was expecting that the mothers she has been coaching would also share the value of weaving to their families apart from making a living out of it.

?We are booming because we work hard. We rely on the money from t?nalak to feed our families and put our children through school,? Malanao said.

A weaver earns an average of P5,000 per month, which is already a big help for their families.

?With the workshop in place, we believe that we are taking part in a sustainable development. Weaving has changed our lives, especially the way we look at life,? she added.

Depending on the intricacy of design, it takes three to four months to weave a 10-meter cloth, which sells for P500 a meter.

For Lang?s flawless creation, a meter costs P800-P1,000. Her products are sold all over the world.

Instrument of change

Lang says she doesn?t take salaries from the sales. ?You cannot buy joy, I will live my life as an instrument of change for the T?bolis.?

The state of the t?nalak now is far from what it used to be, she said.

In the 1960s, the tribe traded t?nalak for horses for easy mobility of their farm produce.

Then the Sta. Cruz Mission was established. Today, it continues to help tribal families through its programs that encourage women to weave during their free time.

The institution also provided the women venues to promote the cloth and allowed weavers like Lang to earn fix income from their skill.

But some developments are working against Lang?s hopes of preserving the t?nalak.

?Capitalists enforce their sketch on the weavers, some even uprooted them to places where they can earn more,? said Rosemarie Ambol, an entrepreneur.

?Ironically, new designs sell better than the traditional ones, so income is much better. Along with other co-ops, we have decided to go with flow as this is business,? Ambol said.

But it threatens the very idea of t?nalak weaving, which the locals said was inspired by a goddess named Fu Dalu.

?Centuries back, a goddess named Fu Dalu appeared in the dreams of many and presented the geometric patterns. Our ancestors imitated the first designs,? Malanao said.

Elsewhere in rural Lake Sebu, a growing number of villagers have also deserted the art in exchange for mini skirts and blue jeans, leaving the last group of weavers with not so many interested heirs.

Despite these threats, the weavers of Lake Sebu have come to love their own work, observes Lang.

?The t?nalak is not just about Lake Sebu. It is about our race,? she says. ?We have to do something so we can protect it.?

?While modern designs are easier to weave, I will keep on doing things the old way to present our depreciating art and culture,? Lang promises.

As to who will carry on the tradition, Lang said: ?I leave it to a few who have somehow mastered the art.?