This week was Kadayawan week in Davao City. Kadayawan is a week-long festival celebrating the culture of the indigenous peoples in and around Davao ('dayaw' means 'to praise'). The event is supposed to empower indigenous peoples to express their culture in a city setting showing that indigenous culture is alive and kicking. The intention is good, I don't doubt that. But why did I get the feeling that I was watching tricks in a zoo?
To start with, the kadayawan's 'praise' of indigenous culture does not cut very deep. It is all about dancing, dressing up and eating unusual foods. Cultural diversty is a hot issue in the Philippines, but the Kadayawan plays it safe. What harm can there be in a dance, what threat in a colourful costume, what subversion in a picture taken with a 'real Lumad' in his 'real traditional house'? Funny enough, the Kadayawan is - apart from museums - the only place where you will see this abundance of traditional articrafts. Go to Mount Apo, and you'll be hard-pressed to find anything of the clothes, instruments or artwork for sale by the masses in Davao. It is staged culture. I asked one of the girls who was waiting to perform a dance from what community she was. She poked her friend in the side asking "hey, Candy, what tribe are we again?". The dancers are high-school kids who made the dresses and learned the dances in school. I think it is a nice idea to learn young people indigenous dances, but where are the people they are supposed to represent?
I'm not saying that the Kadayawan doesn't have a positive value, it's just that it represents indigenous peoples the way we would like to see them. Not as people in modern suits waving the Philippine constitution and claiming their rights, but as communities frozen in time, colourful and harmless. As a tourist, you will come home with a sore index finger from taking pictures of all the willing dancers (guilty as charged), but you will not have spotted one bit of living culture.
To be fair, cultural performances are always tricky. It's a thin line from culture to folklore and when the line is crossed, the effect is often ludicrous. One evening we watched a miss-Lumad election in People's Park (seriously). Six girls had to dance in tradional dress (with high heels for the occasion!) and answer one question (in English!) about their culture and the importance of the Kadayawan. I noticed I was not the only one frowning at this.
I am being too harsh, I know. The Kadayawan brings together crowds of people who enjoy the dances, the music, the colours, the food, the ambiance. I too, enjoy it very much. It's nice to walk the streets of Davao at night and be absorbed by the crowd and the multitude of impressions. The children are adorable and the dances area really beautiful. But in a sense it also makes my heart bleed a little. What is going wrong in the dialogue between tradition and modernity that we have to choose between conflict and folklore?
To start with, the kadayawan's 'praise' of indigenous culture does not cut very deep. It is all about dancing, dressing up and eating unusual foods. Cultural diversty is a hot issue in the Philippines, but the Kadayawan plays it safe. What harm can there be in a dance, what threat in a colourful costume, what subversion in a picture taken with a 'real Lumad' in his 'real traditional house'? Funny enough, the Kadayawan is - apart from museums - the only place where you will see this abundance of traditional articrafts. Go to Mount Apo, and you'll be hard-pressed to find anything of the clothes, instruments or artwork for sale by the masses in Davao. It is staged culture. I asked one of the girls who was waiting to perform a dance from what community she was. She poked her friend in the side asking "hey, Candy, what tribe are we again?". The dancers are high-school kids who made the dresses and learned the dances in school. I think it is a nice idea to learn young people indigenous dances, but where are the people they are supposed to represent?
I'm not saying that the Kadayawan doesn't have a positive value, it's just that it represents indigenous peoples the way we would like to see them. Not as people in modern suits waving the Philippine constitution and claiming their rights, but as communities frozen in time, colourful and harmless. As a tourist, you will come home with a sore index finger from taking pictures of all the willing dancers (guilty as charged), but you will not have spotted one bit of living culture.
To be fair, cultural performances are always tricky. It's a thin line from culture to folklore and when the line is crossed, the effect is often ludicrous. One evening we watched a miss-Lumad election in People's Park (seriously). Six girls had to dance in tradional dress (with high heels for the occasion!) and answer one question (in English!) about their culture and the importance of the Kadayawan. I noticed I was not the only one frowning at this.
I am being too harsh, I know. The Kadayawan brings together crowds of people who enjoy the dances, the music, the colours, the food, the ambiance. I too, enjoy it very much. It's nice to walk the streets of Davao at night and be absorbed by the crowd and the multitude of impressions. The children are adorable and the dances area really beautiful. But in a sense it also makes my heart bleed a little. What is going wrong in the dialogue between tradition and modernity that we have to choose between conflict and folklore?
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