Weaving a Dream

Lang Dulay, Lake Sebu, Philippines

Sept 14, 2026

Fu Dalu, the spirit of the Abaca plant visits chosen women of the T’boli in their dreams. The spirit gives them intricate patterns and the women then weave them from abaca fibers. They use no sketches or diagrams but weave the patterns entirely from memory. These women are called Dreamweavers and the T’nalak cloth they weave is considered sacred. I wanted to see their weaving center, not far from Lake Sebu.

I met Ayumi in a small store in Lake Sebu. From Japan, she is the first traveler I have met in almost a month and she is keen to visit the weaving center too. We are greeted warmly by Sebulan Dulay, a master weaver and her son Charlie Dulay, who is a weaver himself and explains the process.

Abaca is a strong natural fiber, similar to hemp, jute or coir. Abaca fibers do not weaken when immersed in saltwater; unsurprisingly, they have been historically used for many purposes, including clothing and blankets. Charlie points out a couple of abaca trees in the backyard. They are similar to banana trees. He then shows us fibers taken from the trunk; the dried fibers feel quite rough to touch. These strands are tied together end to end to make the long threads they need for weaving.

Sebulan Dulay smiles at us as she seats herself behind a bamboo frame. The frame has bundles of fibers strung between its ends. She is wrapping plastic twine tightly around the bundles in varying patterns and lengths. This is the pattern she has dreamt of and is now transferring it entirely from memory. I ask how often they dream of a pattern and am told perhaps once a month. She retains the pattern in her head for a month at a time!

Once tied, the bundles are submerged in a dye made from boiling K’nalum leaves, yielding a black color. The exposed fibers are dyed, leaving the wrapped segments pale. Red dye made from the roots and bark of a plant called Loko (or Lagu) are then used to dye some of the newly unwrapped parts. After a process lasting for weeks, the threads are set into a loom and the cloth woven. Master weavers sign their work, much as an artist does.

But it is not quite finished yet. The cloth is given a shine by rubbing it vigorously. Never would I have guessed with what! The bottom end of a long bamboo pole suspended from the above, is jammed into the natural opening of a large cowrie shell. Holding the shell, Charlie rubs it back and forth on the cloth, bringing a shine to it. I see a shell under the table that has been used often enough to have large flat eroded patches.

This tie-dyeing method is called ikkat, the word itself stemming from mengikat, a Malay-Indonesian word meaning “to cut” or “to bind”. Ikkat weaving has been prevalent in Indonesia and other parts of southeast Asia for centuries. While its origin might be difficult to pinpoint, there is no doubt it spread to neighboring areas borne on the waves by, guess who? The Austronesian mariners. No prizes for correct guesses!