Fruit of the loom

Nay Susing, with an amused smile on her face, expertly knots the fiber – thinner than a hair strand – until she ends up with almost two yards of coil. This, she says, is to prepare the fiber for weaving, holding up the almost invisible thread for everyone to see. With a collective gasp, the onlookers finally understand what makes the piña fiber so delicate, so cherished… and so expensive.

While a lot of Filipinos are hung up on imported silk, a growing number of individuals with a newfound sense of national pride is turning their attention to piña, among other local fabrics, and seeing its potential. Every year for the last six years, Aklanons have been espousing the merits of the fiber at the Piña Fiber Festival in Kalibo, Aklan. The province is well-known for producing the finest piña fibers (even during the Spanish period) and transforming these into exquisite products ranging from formal wear to fashion and home accessories.

Considered a dying art in the ‘80s, piña weaving was "rescued" by concerned groups who put up several projects to resurrect and improve upon the technology in creating this gossamer fabric. Now, more than 20 years later, piña seems to have become a thriving industry in the province. At the recent Aklan Piña & Fiber Festival, part of the celebration of the 49th founding anniversary of Aklan as a province, it was obvious that the industry has grown and matured.

What used to be confined to barong tagalog and bridal gowns, the piña has invaded the world of fashion accessories and home furnishings. Combined with other fabrics like silk or polyester, the piña is now made into cushion covers, bags, draperies and canopies for beds, shawls, even stationeries. A cursory glance at the trade fair, designed by international product design consultant PJ Arañador, showed that the piña is no longer the snooty cousin of the jusi or abaca. With a tropical resort theme, the fair used the piña and other local materials to create what Arañador describes as "a laidback but contemporary look."

"We’re trying to break that perception that piña is used for special occasions only. While it still is a special fabric, the piña is now accessible to more people including the young ones," says Arañador, who in last year’s fair staged a fashion show featuring young models wearing piña with denim. For the designer, it’s all a matter of exposure as well as the production of contemporary piña products. His dream? To see all Filipinos owning and wearing even just one piña shirt or accessory. "Imagine the impact it would create globally. If the Indians have their saris and the Japanese their kimonos, why can’t we own even a single shirt or dress made from piña?"

Piña fabric manufacturers and traders know full well that if they want to survive the fickle world of design and fashion, they have to be one step ahead of competitors. For India dela Cruz-Legaspi, Piña Manufacturers and Traders Association president, product development especially in matters concerning embroidery, dye and design is a great help if they want to catch the attention of the foreign market.

Legaspi, however, admits that they haven’t fully tapped the foreign market. While the product is indeed world-class, don’t expect the piña to be mass-produced anytime soon. It’s just not possible, if you want to end up with the same delicate material. These days, mass production translates to so-so quality and cloning mentality. Not with piña, which is set apart by its fine embroidery and timeless beauty.

Extracted from the leaves of the red Spanish pineapple variety (nope, not your Dole or Del Monte pineapple, folks), the fiber is scraped by hand using a broken plate or shell. This is to separate the first layer called bastos (we’re also wondering why) from the softer second layer called liniwan. After a series of washing and drying, the knotters are tasked to individually knot the fibers one by one until they come up with enough material for weaving.

If you’ve ever noticed the rough hair of old santos, you’d probably be surprised to know that it’s made from bastos (how odd that this unsavory word would end up on saints’ heads). "Bastos comprises 75 percent of the leaves, while the liniwan makes up only 25 percent," says Legaspi, another reason why the fine fiber is an expensive lot.

According to ‘Nay Susing (or Susima Marte dela Cruz, the matriarch of the Dela Cruz House of Piña in Aklan), a simple square knot is all that’s used by knotters. Oh, they’ve tried experimenting with knotting machines but, as the family observed, for every knot the machine could do in a minute, human hands could do twice, even thrice.

"It takes extreme patience to knot these fibers, and 20/20 vision," says Legaspi, who once headed the Katutubong Filipino Foundation in the ‘80s in an attempt to revive the piña weaving industry in Aklan. She adds that, on the average, a knotter can produce about eight grams a day, and that’s just during his spare time.

In Theodora Reyes’ experience, it takes about four yards to make one piña barong, which will require about 110 to 150 piña leaves. The knotting would take about a week and end up with 1.5 grams of piña fabric ball. In all, it usually takes a month to make one elegant piña barong; about three months to make a bridal gown, depending on the intricacies of the embroidery.

"You have to understand why the process is long. You have to extract the leaves, clean the fibers, dry, knot, weave, dye, embroider and wash," says the owner of Reycon’s Piña Cloth and Industry.

On the average, pure piña costs P700 per yard while piña seda (a combination of piña and silk) costs P500 per yard. This is the reason why most people are quite wary about wearing the product. Apart from the perception that it’s hard to maintain, they’re afraid to wear one because of its price.

On the contrary, says Legaspi, piña should be treated like silk. Avoid using detergent for dyed piña; just hand wash and drip dry. If you must use soap, Ivory or Perla can do the trick, offers Legaspi. If it’s really creased, iron it like you would silk.

"Pure piña fiber becomes light tan over time and if you want to restore its original color, try soaking it in soap with kamias or even juice of raw pineapple," advises Legaspi, who has also experimented painting on piña. The UST Fine Arts graduate has a penchant for using her Chinese painting skills on pure piña cloth.

From Arañador, meanwhile, here’s a tip for those with piña barong in their closet: don’t hang it, just fold it.

As a livelihood resource, there’s no doubt the piña industry is a big help for the people of Aklan. For instance, it’s not uncommon for students to become take on part-time work as knotters, so they could save enough and pay for their tuition fees. Also, it has been observed that the number of male weavers is increasing. Instead of working as construction workers, these men’s physical strength are now being used to work on those heavy weaving machines. As is often the case, the piña industry involves the whole family. The dad could be a pineapple farmer, the mom a knotter, the child could be a weaver, and so on. The great thing about it is all of them contribute to the family income, and to the preservation of the art of piña weaving.

In a world where an idea can easily be sold or pirated, piña weaving in the country needs to be safeguarded. This is why Aklan Governor Carlito Marquez is urging piña manufacturers and traders to push for the branding of the product. "There’s a need for the standardization and the establishment of a trade name so Aklan’s piña products would be known worldwide," says the governor, who has discussed with various groups about the opening of a permanent exhibit center for Aklan’s products including raffia, abaca and nito, among others.

Echoing the goal of the provincial government, Arañador, who is well-known for bringing local materials to shows and exhibits abroad, says all of these activities are geared towards giving livelihood to the locals, as well as to give people a sense of pride.

Arañador notes with alarm that 70 to 80 percent of products being sold now in Boracay come from Thailand and Indonesia. It’s about time, he intimates, that Filipinos start becoming aware of and taking pride in what they have.

Apart from piña, of course, Aklan is also becoming famous for its abaca, raffia and nito products. According to Hugod Aklanon Producers Association head Amelia Rentillo, Aklan crafts are quite famous in the foreign market. Raffia, which is taken from the buri plant, is a popular material for throw pillow covers, curtains, cover frames, boxes, as well as dolls and tassels. Africa is said to be the Philippines’ close competitor in the raffia industry. But according to Rentillo, our raffia is different from theirs in that we use the wild variety, which is alarmingly getting difficult to obtain these days.

Abaca, on the other hand, has a bright future it seems. The Department of Trade and Industry, says the governor, recently sent abaca fiber samples to New York to test if it’s feasible to make it into tiles for acoustics. "There is a big potential for abaca especially since it can be used for both crafts and clothes," says the governor, adding that there are plans to put up an abaca plantation in Aklan. For a bit of trivia, he volunteers that our currency is made of abaca fibers.

As for nito, it’s currently making waves in high-end retail stores in the US and Europe as home and kitchen accessories with La Herminia and Dela Cruz House of Piña exporting world-class products ranging from handwoven baskets, vases, placemats, napkin rings, coasters, deco accents and other tabletop accessories. The nito, an indigenous vine, have very clean and polished lines, elegant in its simplicity and subdued colors.

It would probably take a while before the rest of the world becomes exposed to the charms of the piña cloth but it’s not too early for Filipinos to take a second look at this taken-for-granted and misunderstood fabric, as well as other indigenous materials that Aklan is know for. Pricey? Perhaps. Priceless? Oh, definitely.