Our visit to the T’nalak Gallery ♥️ Curated by Sir Reden Ulo, the gallery is located next to his home. In it there are hundreds of t’nalak weaves, produced by the incredible female artisans of Lake Sebu. On display are traditional t’nalak (made with abaca fibers dyed in red and black, with natural white) along with those that incorporate other colours. Whatever I type here hardly does justice to the beauty and power you feel in close proximity to these textiles. They’re beautiful, and mesmerizing. Love patterns in general and it just blows my mind, how intricate and perfectly aligned every corner, every new row of abaca woven into strands on a loom to create these incredibly detailed designs, is the result of months of work by entire T’boli communities. Sir Reden is now a chair at the National Centre for Culture and the Arts. It was a pleasure to meet him, be welcomed into his home, to see the book he’s been working on with the master weavers, to understand there are ways for us to be connected to them. I get very deep feelings when I look at these photos, knowing there is a singular story behind each piece of t’nalak hanging from the wall. That nature, the cosmos, beliefs, and each weaver’s lived experiences are intrinsically part of every unique piece. ♥️

Hands down one of my favourite travel memories! For days, we stopped at every shop that had a colourful sign for buko halo-halo. But we were there in the off-season, so most shops that depended on visitors from local resorts were closed (as this was clearly a dessert for the tourists). On a rainy afternoon, we finally found one open on the outskirts of town, back past the highway mural that welcomed you into Lake Sebu. Enjoyed our merienda with the kuyas, and all the things we chatted about that afternoon, which included things we had in common (our ages) and what we wanted in our lives (it got deep, and always comes back to love and family). I saw the owners feeding a flock of chickens in the yard, and joked that maybe Kuya Mark could ask if one was for sale. We were hoping to find a native chicken, to prepare a local dish. They said yes and that made my week!🤘 My favourite part about all of this was that this had become the norm. Of course we were gonna take the chicken, and the quickest way to take it back with us was for someone to carry it. Sure we could have tried to find a bayong, or something to keep it in - but in response to my friend Pat’s question of “how are we taking it?” I must have said sure I’ll carry it, then got up on the bike and nestled the chicken in the crook of my elbow once we took off, up and down the roads that led into town. ☺️ #corememory

Day to night on the shores of Lake Sebu 🌗 We passed a procession going to the centre of town one day. I asked what was happening and our guides, used to me asking to pull over, stopped by a shaded area. I remember that I asked if it was ok to record them and Kuya Justin said it was. They were heading to the covered court for a municipal event. Kuya Mark chatted with a few people as they passed. In the parking lot of a local fisheries school, we looked over fish pens built relatively close to shore. Much of Lake Sebu today is dotted with fish pens that mostly grow tilapia. Different, our guides repeatedly said, from when they were kids. At some point, we talked about the time the lake turned completely green with algae. Another time, about how “fish kills” happened more frequently now. It used to be, maybe once a decade in their parents’ time, now it happened every few years. When it did, nearly all the fish in the lake floated to surface and sank everyone’s investments. All those pens, with tons of dead fish, because business needs to make money over time have destroyed the lake’s natural ecosystem. They talked about how, when the local government began to push aquaculture farming in the late 90s, T’boli elders said that many fish in the lake would destroy it. Sometimes I dream that in depth stories about issues like these would make a difference, but lots have been published about these fish kills, locally and globally. The reasons we don’t act on them, I think, are the deeper root cause.

Time for a hike!🥾 Love this pic with Kuya Mark and Kuya Justin, who’d been guiding us around Lake Sebu for a couple days by this point. We went up a dirt road and through a bit of forest to a jump off point for local paragliders. Would totally return for that!

Time for a farm visit! ✨ We drove up the mountains to Sebul Cacao Farms, which also grew a host of other fruit and vegetables. But truly -this was easily the most beautiful cacao grove I had ever been in. IMO the view from that bench alone would sell experiences! But then that is the effect of Mindanao, on me. What you ate there was a literal taste of the place. And there is nothing like its durian! #foodways #philippines

Earlier that morning, we passed streams of students crossing a road to get to their motorbikes, parked in an empty lot nearly the size of a basketball court. There must have been at least a hundred bikes. Later, when we passed it again, I asked our guide Kuya Mark if we could stop for a minute - I was curious about the school. We turned back and followed the road into the main entrance of the Santa Cruz Mission School, where we learned that both our guides, and many young people in the area go to attend high school and college. I wish I took more notes from our visit. I remember being in silent awe, looking up at the detail on this carved awning on a roof, while Mark laughed about something his friend did here once. Right before that, he talked about the classrooms across the quad. And before that, about how the school was founded by a missionary who dedicated his life to providing educational opportunities for young indigenous peoples (IPs). Part of the story, as I recall, had to do with local elders whose land was taken away, on account of “no read, no write”. The journalist in me always wonders about the breadth of stories we never hear and get a chance to learn from.

I have to admit it was little jarring to enter the resort complex through a very rural road in the municipality of Lake Sebu…I remember we drove down this steep, dusty hill, then turned into the parking lot. We had no idea what to expect. Dreamweavers Hill was certainly built for tourists, and the money they bring into the local economy. Though it was beautiful, many other aspects of this trip made me realize that, as with much of the Philippines- this was a place that meant different things to different people. We enjoyed a lovely lunch and ate bright pink ice cream made with tilapia. Tasting notes at the end! 😄

Our guide had a contact at a local school that, we learned, was one of the first in the country to develop a curriculum dedicated to indigenous studies at the high school level. We visited and met some teachers on break in between classes. I remember we sat at a table that overlooked a field and introduced ourselves as visitors who were very interested in learning about T’boli culture, arts and textiles included. After class, another teacher showed us to a room where students practiced weaving, woodworking, and brass casting, to create traditional items such as jewelry (with the little bells) and musical instruments. They also made souvenirs, keychains carved in the shape of a fish. I got one and carry it around with me everyday here in Toronto 💛 We greatly appreciated the opportunity to visit and learn about the community!

Back in the land of the dreamweavers…this picture taken with the family of Barbara Ofong means everything. We may have been crying shortly before this was taken, it was hard not to get emotional in their presence. To simply be there, spend time with them, and show genuine interest in helping to support the production of t’nalak was an experience that can’t be replaced. It’s been more than a year since this happened, but I’m certain I will feel this way for always! #lakesebu