Tom Cockrem explores a religious festival that blends icons of Catholicism with the ancient tribal traditions of the Ati-Ati people

History in the Philippines is never far removed from the people’s daily lives. It’s intrinsic in their artworks, reli­gion, cinema, and especially their festivals. It is doubtful that any country in the world puts as many days aside for celebratory events as do the Filipinos. And they do it in grand style, with an energy and passion that can leave the visiting observer literally breathless with excitement and with awe; as I discovered in Iloilo on the central Visayan island of Panay.

This was my second visit to Iloilo. The first time I came to do the city plazas and their churches – grand old Spanish colonial survivors. This time I had one of those festivals in mind – the Dinagyang. Such is its popularity, you have to book well in advance to ensure you get a room, or else do as I did
- come a few days before the main parade.

I arrived to find the town already in a state of total upheaval. Traffic was being diverted from major intersections, on which huge grandstands were under construction – hand-built by an army of enthusiastic workers. One city street was cordoned off, and given over to live entertainment and food. You could try here almost every kind of food that the Philippines has to offer. Iloilo is famous for its “Ilongo” cuisine, and especially its squid. It’s grilled on a skewer and stuffed with a delectable garlic seafood sauce.

Performance rehearsals too were well and truly under way. You could hear them. I quizzed a bystander about the drumming and commotion that was coming from up the street. “It’s the Ilonganon tribe practicing,” he told me.

“Tribe!” My curiosity was aroused.

Ostensibly, the Dinagyang festival is all about religion – a re­enactment of an event in 1967 which saw the coming to Iloilo from Cebu of a replica of an ancient and much venerated stat­ue of the child Jesus, or santo nino. And this to a large extent is what the festival’s all about. But there is more. The main body of celebrants dress themselves as “Ati”, or “Ati-ati”, the dark-skinned indigenous inhabitants of Panay. And like the Ati of old, they divide themselves into “tribes”, each one representing a modern day district or town within the Iloilo province. They blacken their bodies, and contrive extraordinarily flamboyant tribal costumes. These are made from mostly organic materials – feathers, shells, leaves, coconut fronds, coconut husks and bark. The name “Dinagyang” is a reference to the Ilongo lin­guistic term “Dagyang”, or “merrymaking”.

Folklore has it that it was actually some members of an Ati tribe who found the original santo nino image. It was washed up from a shipwreck on a beach in the north of Panay. This was in the 16th century. The nearby town of Kalibo stages its own giant Ati-atihan festival to commemorate this event.

Back still further – 1n 1212, to be exact – the Ati also partici­pated in a very famous barter. As the original custodians of the island, they saw fit to grant large tracts of prime coastal land to newly arrived settlers in exchange for gifts – cloth, jewels, gold trinkets and the like. The newcomers were 10 Datu, or chiefs, and their followers who had come from Borneo to Panay to escape persecution from a tyrannical overlord. The completion of the transaction precipitated a cathartic celebration on the part of the Ati, with wild dancing to the beating of drums. It is this, the so-called Hala Bira, that is en­thusiastically re-enacted at the Dinagyang festival today.

The festival kicks off in late December and culminates in the street parade on the last Sunday of January. Preliminary events include dance, show band and marching competitions, the crowning of “Princess Isabel”, plus a series of religious services at the old Spanish colonial church of San Jose. The focal point of the fiesta is the large and leafy Independence Plaza, directly oppo­site the church. The plaza and surrounds are the scene of all manner of happenings – snacking out in the temporary cafes, im­bibing in the very well patronized tempo­rary bars, buzzing to and from the carnival next door, last minute rehearsals for bands and marching troupe, buying nino images and plastic Ati-ati  masks.

The key religious event is the Fluvial Pro­cession, in which the arrival of the santo nino in the town is re-enacted. According to the program, the procession assembled at the old Spanish-built Fort San Pedro – or at least its scant remains – which stands near the mouth of the Iloilo River. I went there by tricycle, or pedaled trishaw, and got there just in time to see the town digni­taries being escorted onto one of the giant flag-festooned bancas, or outrigger boats, that comprised the ceremonial fleet. It was my first chance to see the real ati-ati cos­tumes. The boats were all manned by the warriors, who looked like they were going off to war.

Another tricycle ride, and a cunning short­cut, gets men quickly back up river and to just behind the plaza, where a huge crowd lines the banks to await the big event. Eve­ryone, it seems has their own santo nino statue to wave. Some are quite impressive works of art – hand-made by the people who own them. The flotilla duly arrives. How many boats? I can’t really count them. For the image has already come ashore, carried by the warriors and surrounded by a thousand devotees. Great ranks of out­rageously costumed and blackened tribes assemble. Marching bands appear from God knows where, along with marshal arts performers, athletics clubs and such, all in splendid costume and meticulously drilled in their routines. To fail to get good pictures here, you’d have to leave your lens cap on, or point your camera to the sky.

The program, by the way, is available at the Iloilo Tourist office, which also sup­plies good maps and info on the city and the province. Without it I would probably have missed some other fabulous events.

The marching girls competition was a mini festival in itself, with the gor­geously costumed groups doing their baton wielding thing before huge crowds in the …. Grandstand. The crowning of Princess Isabel may not be everybody’s favorite kind of show, but the kids steal the show – the escorts for the contestants. They are decked out in courtly red costumes and play naughty tricks on each other as they wait.

Robinson’s Shopping Mall too gets in on the act. I chance upon a fine pho­tographic exhibition on the mezzanine floor, an Ati-ati warrior who you can get to have your picture taken with (I keep mine under wraps), and a weird kind of dance show that would not be out of place in the Sydney Mardi Gras.

I’m now well and truly primed for the really big event. It’s Sunday. Now the Ati-ati really do their thing. Some thirty or so “tribes” participate in the pa­rade, each with upwards of a hundred male and female performers, plus stage hands, prop carriers, water totes and wardrobe attendants. Each tribe is competing for a prize – I never found out what. And each has choreo­graphed a dramatic and highly charged theatrical event. It might be based on an historical event, or maybe just pure myth. It will almost certainly involve the overthrow of evil spirits through the invocation of the nino. And there’s more.

The performers must parade through the streets. But they don’t just walk. It’s pretty much non-stop dancing and performing all the way – despite the broiling sun. The loyal “roadies” trail behind them, wheeling the enormous mobile stage, props and costume accessories. As if this is not enough, they stage their show on four separate occasions before huge crowds assembled in the grandstands. They leap fearlessly from way up on their stage, and maneuver their huge ranks with a flare and precision that might rival Broad­way’s Ziegfeld Follies. For my part, I keep up with the pace for several hours, before it all just gets too much. And I retire totally pooped.

By now I had a new mission. Next day I am back at the good old tourist of­fice. I ask if the Ati people still live on Panay today. I am told that they do, in small isolated communities way off in the hills. There are other more acces­sible ones on the island of Guimaras. It’s the pretty large island that lies just south of Iloilo. I set off to find them.

This became a fun-filled adventure. Guimaras is accessible by ferry. The “pumpboat” there takes no more than thirty minutes. It lands in the small coastal town of Santo Rosario. This is a friendly and intriguing little place. It’s got enclaves everywhere – a lively fishing harbor, a quaint town centre and lots of tranquil little watery retreats. From here I was able to hire a tricy­cle – a three wheel motor bike taxi with canopy – to take me into the interior. Our destination was the barangay (district) of St. Nicolas and the Ati village of Sirum.

The excitement welled up inside me as we wheeled down the dirt track that would take us to the village. “Village”, though, was not quite the right term.

It was more a loose collection of farmhouses dotted here and there among the hills. We approached one of  the houses on  foot. And  the welcome we received was genuinely warm, especially from the children, who seemed imbued with an endearing kind of natural “cool”. The families proudly showed of their attractive little houses, which they themselves had built. Tere were lots of smiles, lots of good feelings shared.

Life in the community was clearly nothing if not frugal, but no more so than elsewhere  in  the  island’s hinterland.  I  lef with a very positive  impression, one  that also confrmed what  I’d already been  told. Te Ati people are by nature very shy. Historically, they have preferred to retire further back into the hills, rather  than embrace  the strange new communities  that  imposed themselves upon them from elsewhere, including the Spanish.

It seems somewhat ironic that the Ati of today do not at all participate in the festival that borrows so much from their culture, and acknowledges the role they have played  in the history of Panay. Those who visit them would understand why. Tey are happy to remain out of the limelight, and enjoy the tranquil beauty of their farmlands and their hills. Who could really blame them?

The Iloilo Fair kicks off on the last week of December.
For more details go to:
www.iloiloviews.com