The Maguindanaos produce fine handicrafts such as brass ware, hand woven malongs, mats and baskets. They are musically inclined, with the kulintang as principal instrument. Their kulintang ensemble has two more large gongs than that of the Maranaos.
One notable characteristic of Maguindanao dance is its faster, rougher steps and movements derived from the movement of the river, unlike the slow almost placid hands and body movements of the Maranao which is similar to the movement of the lake.
(Blogger’s note: This post is the last part of an eight-part series on the Maguindanao people. Each part is posted every Monday starting December 8, 2014. The text is copied as it appears in Defending the Land: Lumad and Moro People’s Struggle for Ancestral Domain in Mindanao. The book, published by a consortium of non-government organizations, has an “anti-copyright” notice and may thus be freely reproduced.)
Monday, January 26, 2015
Monday, January 19, 2015
The Maguindanao and Their Ancestral Tales
One of the most popular epics among the Maguindanaos of Bagumbayan concerns the adventures of Pinatikan in Slatan.
Pinatikan, a brave warrior and a local datu, enjoyed hunting for pleasure. On one of his hunting expeditions, he chanced upon an old Manobo couple in Slatan, who readily welcomed him as guest. While eating his meal, Pinatikan noticed a beautiful lady. He later learned that she was the lost Bai Masla, taking refuge at the couple’s house.
Upon learning of her ordeal, Pinatikan claimed that she was his pre-arranged bride and asked to marry her. The old couple agreed on condition that he must slay the monster Tarabusaw who was tormenting the residents of Slatan. He accepted the challenge and headed immediately to the monster’s lair.
Pinatikan engaged Tarabusaw in a fierce battle. In the fight, he lost his golden shield and sword at a nearby lake. The hard-fought battle ended in a stalemate. Pinatikan went to the old couple’s house and reported what happened. Sensing Pinatikan’s determination, the couple decided to stop Pinatikan from fighting the monster and yielded to his marriage proposal to Bai Masla, on the condition that he would leave his lost weapons behind. Thereafter, Pinatikan married Bai Masla and they lived happily.
People believe that the golden weapons left behind by Pinatikan became the source of gold deposits found in Slatan.
(Blogger’s note: This post is the seventh part of an eight-part series on the Maguindanao people. Each part is posted every Monday starting December 8, 2014. The text is copied as it appears in Defending the Land: Lumad and Moro People’s Struggle for Ancestral Domain in Mindanao. The book, published by a consortium of non-government organizations, has an “anti-copyright” notice and may thus be freely reproduced.)
Pinatikan, a brave warrior and a local datu, enjoyed hunting for pleasure. On one of his hunting expeditions, he chanced upon an old Manobo couple in Slatan, who readily welcomed him as guest. While eating his meal, Pinatikan noticed a beautiful lady. He later learned that she was the lost Bai Masla, taking refuge at the couple’s house.
Upon learning of her ordeal, Pinatikan claimed that she was his pre-arranged bride and asked to marry her. The old couple agreed on condition that he must slay the monster Tarabusaw who was tormenting the residents of Slatan. He accepted the challenge and headed immediately to the monster’s lair.
Pinatikan engaged Tarabusaw in a fierce battle. In the fight, he lost his golden shield and sword at a nearby lake. The hard-fought battle ended in a stalemate. Pinatikan went to the old couple’s house and reported what happened. Sensing Pinatikan’s determination, the couple decided to stop Pinatikan from fighting the monster and yielded to his marriage proposal to Bai Masla, on the condition that he would leave his lost weapons behind. Thereafter, Pinatikan married Bai Masla and they lived happily.
People believe that the golden weapons left behind by Pinatikan became the source of gold deposits found in Slatan.
(Blogger’s note: This post is the seventh part of an eight-part series on the Maguindanao people. Each part is posted every Monday starting December 8, 2014. The text is copied as it appears in Defending the Land: Lumad and Moro People’s Struggle for Ancestral Domain in Mindanao. The book, published by a consortium of non-government organizations, has an “anti-copyright” notice and may thus be freely reproduced.)
Monday, January 12, 2015
Maguindanao Kinship and Social Ties
There are four categories within the Maguindanao society. This social stratification became evident with the advent of the sultanate in Maguindanao. Kabungsuan is the core nobility or Datu class; Kasteri and Hamaraja are the marginal Dumatu class; Imatampayan and Slanganun are the Endatuan commoners and Oripon and Baniaga are servants, otherwise known as Kanakan.
This form of status differentiation occurs more at the level of discerning privileges and rights to hereditary titles. The Shariph Kabungsuan lineage is the highest descent of religious status because he was of Arab Sayyid descent. The Sultanate of Maguindanao credits Arab ancestry in reference to their light complexion and aquiline features.
Some studies describe the stratification as a scale of upward and downward mobility expressed in terms of a kind and size of bride-price (bantigan) that specifies the exact status of inter-class marriages. In the Maguindanao codes, the broad gradation of ranks is in terms of size of bantigan. It ranges from P1,000, 700, 500 and 300 required as dowry within a given class. Thus, pre-arranged inter-class [intra-class?] marriages were prevalent to guarantee and preserve the integrity and status of the clan.
A typical Maguindanaon household unit is basically nuclear. However, extended families are also evident among big clans, where relatives—either by blood or marriage—live under one roof. This explains why ancient houses were big enough to accommodate three to four families.
On the basis of genealogy, identification of kinship is possible on two levels—clan (tupu) and lineage (waris). The tupu is a kinship group of extended families of unilineal descent, as distinguished from those of royal descent (barabangsa). The waris betad is a bilateral kinship system, useful in authenticating pedigrees concerning marriage, inheritance or property rights. a
(Blogger’s note: This post is the sixth part of an eight-part series on the Maguindanao people. Each part is posted every Monday starting December 8, 2014. The text is copied as it appears in Defending the Land: Lumad and Moro People’s Struggle for Ancestral Domain in Mindanao. The book, published by a consortium of non-government organizations, has an “anti-copyright” notice and may thus be freely reproduced.)
This form of status differentiation occurs more at the level of discerning privileges and rights to hereditary titles. The Shariph Kabungsuan lineage is the highest descent of religious status because he was of Arab Sayyid descent. The Sultanate of Maguindanao credits Arab ancestry in reference to their light complexion and aquiline features.
Some studies describe the stratification as a scale of upward and downward mobility expressed in terms of a kind and size of bride-price (bantigan) that specifies the exact status of inter-class marriages. In the Maguindanao codes, the broad gradation of ranks is in terms of size of bantigan. It ranges from P1,000, 700, 500 and 300 required as dowry within a given class. Thus, pre-arranged inter-class [intra-class?] marriages were prevalent to guarantee and preserve the integrity and status of the clan.
A typical Maguindanaon household unit is basically nuclear. However, extended families are also evident among big clans, where relatives—either by blood or marriage—live under one roof. This explains why ancient houses were big enough to accommodate three to four families.
On the basis of genealogy, identification of kinship is possible on two levels—clan (tupu) and lineage (waris). The tupu is a kinship group of extended families of unilineal descent, as distinguished from those of royal descent (barabangsa). The waris betad is a bilateral kinship system, useful in authenticating pedigrees concerning marriage, inheritance or property rights. a
(Blogger’s note: This post is the sixth part of an eight-part series on the Maguindanao people. Each part is posted every Monday starting December 8, 2014. The text is copied as it appears in Defending the Land: Lumad and Moro People’s Struggle for Ancestral Domain in Mindanao. The book, published by a consortium of non-government organizations, has an “anti-copyright” notice and may thus be freely reproduced.)
Monday, January 5, 2015
Maguindanao Beliefs and Practices
With the advent of Islam, Maguindanaoans were among the first to embrace the religion. The Maguindanaos of Bagumbayan believe that Allah created the world for humankind to inhabit. For them, life on earth is temporary and one must live in righteousness and dignity to ensure salvation and eternal bliss in the hereafter.
Being direct descendants of the Amiruls or religious leaders, the descendants of Morodan are quite exemplar. They are inclined to maintain prestige, honor and credibility by strictly following ancient codes and ethics imposed by their early ancestors. For them, a dishonest person who does not honor his words is untrustworthy and undependable, hence he cannot credibly function in the community.
They strictly observe Adat Betad or moral values to maintain a dignified existence. An elder once said, one should always respect the dignity of anyone. If someone insults or threatens another, he must defend his honor, for the Quran teaches defending oneself against all forms of tyranny and evil.
This concept of pride preservation is manifested in the Maguindanaon’s strong adherence to protect the Maratabat (pride). This makes the Maguindanaons prone to clan conflicts (lido) that often end up in violence and death.
The realization that lido (clan war) is detrimental to the peace enjoyed by the community has led to peaceful conflict resolutions. Maintenance of peace is significant in their constantly threatened communities, prompting the leaders to undertake measures to prevent inter and intra clan conflicts.
Adat Betad in everyday life reflects the norms and values adopted by the community. These are the codified edicts embodying the norms and wisdom of pre-Islamic ancestors.
Traditional Maguindanaon ceremonies include Pabpagubad (healing), Puwasa (fasting), Hariraya Puwasa (breaking of fast), Mauludin Nabi (birth of Prophet Muhammad), Amon Jadid (Muslim new year) and other occasions.
Kanduli (thanksgiving) is an important occasion among the Maguindanaos of Bagumbayan. It is where a family asks for Allah’s assistance in their endeavors and offers their gratitude for all blessings. Kanduli ceremonies are festive occasions where the community gathers around to eat and share what they have.
Several persuasions significantly influenced the cultural beliefs of the natives before the Islamization in Mindanao. These influences are of Malay, Indonesian and Chinese origin. They include belief in charms, amulets and mysticism. The pagan nature of these practices has become controversial with the resurgence of Islamic fundamentalism. However, there are indications that some of these practices prevail in remote communities. Apart from these Islamic and traditional beliefs, the community is still known to engage in pre-Islamic practices of Agimat (charm or amulet) and Pantak (witchcraft or sorcery).
(Blogger’s note: This post is the fifth part of an eight-part series on the Maguindanao people. Each part is posted every Monday starting December 8, 2014. The text is copied as it appears in Defending the Land: Lumad and Moro People’s Struggle for Ancestral Domain in Mindanao. The book, published by a consortium of non-government organizations, has an “anti-copyright” notice and may thus be freely reproduced.)
Being direct descendants of the Amiruls or religious leaders, the descendants of Morodan are quite exemplar. They are inclined to maintain prestige, honor and credibility by strictly following ancient codes and ethics imposed by their early ancestors. For them, a dishonest person who does not honor his words is untrustworthy and undependable, hence he cannot credibly function in the community.
They strictly observe Adat Betad or moral values to maintain a dignified existence. An elder once said, one should always respect the dignity of anyone. If someone insults or threatens another, he must defend his honor, for the Quran teaches defending oneself against all forms of tyranny and evil.
This concept of pride preservation is manifested in the Maguindanaon’s strong adherence to protect the Maratabat (pride). This makes the Maguindanaons prone to clan conflicts (lido) that often end up in violence and death.
The realization that lido (clan war) is detrimental to the peace enjoyed by the community has led to peaceful conflict resolutions. Maintenance of peace is significant in their constantly threatened communities, prompting the leaders to undertake measures to prevent inter and intra clan conflicts.
Adat Betad in everyday life reflects the norms and values adopted by the community. These are the codified edicts embodying the norms and wisdom of pre-Islamic ancestors.
Traditional Maguindanaon ceremonies include Pabpagubad (healing), Puwasa (fasting), Hariraya Puwasa (breaking of fast), Mauludin Nabi (birth of Prophet Muhammad), Amon Jadid (Muslim new year) and other occasions.
Kanduli (thanksgiving) is an important occasion among the Maguindanaos of Bagumbayan. It is where a family asks for Allah’s assistance in their endeavors and offers their gratitude for all blessings. Kanduli ceremonies are festive occasions where the community gathers around to eat and share what they have.
Several persuasions significantly influenced the cultural beliefs of the natives before the Islamization in Mindanao. These influences are of Malay, Indonesian and Chinese origin. They include belief in charms, amulets and mysticism. The pagan nature of these practices has become controversial with the resurgence of Islamic fundamentalism. However, there are indications that some of these practices prevail in remote communities. Apart from these Islamic and traditional beliefs, the community is still known to engage in pre-Islamic practices of Agimat (charm or amulet) and Pantak (witchcraft or sorcery).
(Blogger’s note: This post is the fifth part of an eight-part series on the Maguindanao people. Each part is posted every Monday starting December 8, 2014. The text is copied as it appears in Defending the Land: Lumad and Moro People’s Struggle for Ancestral Domain in Mindanao. The book, published by a consortium of non-government organizations, has an “anti-copyright” notice and may thus be freely reproduced.)
Thursday, January 1, 2015
First Post of the Year
This post was supposed to be about my wishes and similar sh*t for 2015, but because I didn't get to finish "Last Post of the Year" yesterday, I'm continuing it here. There might be another brownout today, so I'll keep this short. Below is the list of the best decisions I made in 2014. As I mentioned yesterday, they had something to do with writing and Kulaman Plateau.
5. I applied (and got accepted) to the 14th Iyas National Writers Workshop and the 53rd Silliman University National Writers Workshop. I had so much fun in the one-week Bacolod workshop because I took a leave from work, while I feel that I didn't have as much fun as I could have in the three-week Dumaguete workshop because I had to be online to work for twenty hours every week. Don't misinterpret me, however. The Dumaguete workshop is the most enjoyable of the five workshops that I've attended so far. You can find more information about the workshops in my other posts or somewhere else in the web, so I won't give so much details about them here.
4. I left Silliman University. I don't say this with bitterness or any ill feeling. In fact, I will always look back with fondness at the days I spent in the school and the city of Dumaguete. I didn't want to leave, but because I was studying, teaching, and working at the same time, I couldn't find the time to write, and it sort of defeated my purpose in being a teaching fellow at Silliman. I wanted to improve as an aspiring writer, but my time was used up on learning how to write instead of actually writing. I realized that I didn't need to have a master's degree in creative writing to write more and write better.
3. I left my work in Cebu. Again, this is a happy goodbye. I enjoyed the company of my office mates and the opportunities that my company gave me. For several months in 2013, I led a small team of technical writers in Cebu and Ahmedabad. It was challenging and memorable to work with Indian nationals, especially because we had to communicate through online meetings and long-distance calls mostly. It was fun. But I wasn't editing and writing what my heart yearned for.
2. I came back home to write. I was able to revise four old stories, write six new stories, update this blog regularly, and finish the first draft of a one-hundred-thousand-word novel. Four of those stories have been published in 2014 or accepted for publication in 2015.
1. I stopped drinking. I observed that I couldn't write for three to five days after getting drunk. Alcohol doesn't make me creative or prolific, and I just have no f*cking idea how Edgar Allan Poe, Ernest Hemingway, and their ilk did it. As for me, alcohol turns me into a zombie. One solution of course is to drink in moderation. But that won't work for me. Once I start, I can't stop. It must be in the genes. So the best solution is to stop before I start. This is not a New Year's resolution. I've been dry for the past few months, and I hope I'll continue to be for the rest of my life—or at least my writing life.
5. I applied (and got accepted) to the 14th Iyas National Writers Workshop and the 53rd Silliman University National Writers Workshop. I had so much fun in the one-week Bacolod workshop because I took a leave from work, while I feel that I didn't have as much fun as I could have in the three-week Dumaguete workshop because I had to be online to work for twenty hours every week. Don't misinterpret me, however. The Dumaguete workshop is the most enjoyable of the five workshops that I've attended so far. You can find more information about the workshops in my other posts or somewhere else in the web, so I won't give so much details about them here.
4. I left Silliman University. I don't say this with bitterness or any ill feeling. In fact, I will always look back with fondness at the days I spent in the school and the city of Dumaguete. I didn't want to leave, but because I was studying, teaching, and working at the same time, I couldn't find the time to write, and it sort of defeated my purpose in being a teaching fellow at Silliman. I wanted to improve as an aspiring writer, but my time was used up on learning how to write instead of actually writing. I realized that I didn't need to have a master's degree in creative writing to write more and write better.
3. I left my work in Cebu. Again, this is a happy goodbye. I enjoyed the company of my office mates and the opportunities that my company gave me. For several months in 2013, I led a small team of technical writers in Cebu and Ahmedabad. It was challenging and memorable to work with Indian nationals, especially because we had to communicate through online meetings and long-distance calls mostly. It was fun. But I wasn't editing and writing what my heart yearned for.
2. I came back home to write. I was able to revise four old stories, write six new stories, update this blog regularly, and finish the first draft of a one-hundred-thousand-word novel. Four of those stories have been published in 2014 or accepted for publication in 2015.
1. I stopped drinking. I observed that I couldn't write for three to five days after getting drunk. Alcohol doesn't make me creative or prolific, and I just have no f*cking idea how Edgar Allan Poe, Ernest Hemingway, and their ilk did it. As for me, alcohol turns me into a zombie. One solution of course is to drink in moderation. But that won't work for me. Once I start, I can't stop. It must be in the genes. So the best solution is to stop before I start. This is not a New Year's resolution. I've been dry for the past few months, and I hope I'll continue to be for the rest of my life—or at least my writing life.
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