Aklan

The history of Aklan begins with the Ati, the original inhabitants of Panay. Around the 13th century, Malay settlers arrived from Borneo, negotiated with the Ati chieftain Marikudo and his wife Maniwantiwan, and established communities on the lowlands. The transaction — legend has it the settlers paid a golden salakot and a necklace — is commemorated every year at Ati-Atihan.

Aklan was badly damaged by Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan) in November 2013. Kalibo and several coastal municipalities suffered significant destruction. Recovery was aided by the sustained attention that Boracay's international profile brought to the affected region.

Ati-Atihan dominates the cultural conversation about Aklan, and fairly so — it is one of the most spectacular festivals in the country. For three days in January, Kalibo's streets fill with dancers painted in black soot, wearing elaborate headdresses, moving to the relentless rhythm of drums. The phrase 'Hala bira! Pwera pasma!' is the festival's battle cry.

The Ati People

The Ati are the Negrito people of Panay — small-statured, dark-skinned, and among the earliest inhabitants of the Philippine archipelago. In Aklan, Ati communities persist in the hills and in resettlement areas near the coast. They have experienced significant land displacement and marginalization. The festival that commemorates the original Ati-settler transaction now features very few actual Ati participants.

Aklanon Identity

Aklanons are distinct from their Hiligaynon-speaking neighbors in Iloilo and Capiz. The language difference is real and felt. Aklanon scholars have produced grammars and literary collections in the language, and local schools have worked to preserve it alongside the national curriculum.

Aklan's food is rooted in lowland Visayan cooking — coconut milk, fresh fish, native vegetables, and pork. The province grows sugarcane and rice, and both appear in the local food culture. Visitors passing through to Boracay often miss the local cuisine entirely, which is a loss.

Aklanon is the primary language of the province, spoken by the majority of the population. It belongs to the Central Philippine branch of the Austronesian family and is most closely related to Kinaray-a and the other Visayan languages of Panay.

Hiligaynon — the language of Iloilo and Bacolod — is widely understood in Aklan and used in commerce, especially with traders from Iloilo. Tagalog and English are standard in education and government. In the tourist corridors near Caticlan and Boracay, English is the practical working language.

Local scholars and cultural advocates have produced Aklanon dictionaries, grammars, and anthologies of oral literature. The Aklan State University has been involved in documenting the language and supporting instruction in Aklanon in local schools.

Most travelers to Aklan are heading somewhere else — Boracay, specifically. The province itself offers the Ati-Atihan festival in January, the piña weaving communities of Balete, and a coastline that gets overlooked because it is not Boracay. That oversight can be corrected.

Every January, they paint themselves black and take to the streets. The paint is soot — or in many cases now, commercial black face paint — applied thickly to the face, neck, and arms. The headdresses are built from feathers, shells, and whatever else can be attached to a bamboo frame and worn while dancing. The drums do not stop. The dancing does not stop. For three days, Kalibo belongs to Ati-Atihan.

The festival commemorates a transaction that may or may not have happened the way the Maragtas account describes it. Around the 13th century, ten datus from Borneo arrived on Panay and negotiated with the Ati chieftain Marikudo for rights to the lowlands. The price was a gold salakot and a long necklace. Whether the story is literal history or legendary compression of a longer process of settlement, the Ati-Atihan is the annual act of remembering it.

The complication is the one that any honest account of the festival must include: the actual Ati people — the descendants of those same original inhabitants of Panay — are largely absent from the celebration that uses their name. They live in resettlement areas and hill communities, often in poverty, while lowland Filipinos and tourists paint themselves in imitation of Ati appearance. The conversation about what this means has been going on for years, and it has not been resolved.

Still, in the streets during those three days in January, the drums produce something that is hard to argue with. The city moves as one body. Strangers dance with strangers. Children fall asleep on their parents' shoulders without the dancing stopping. Whatever Ati-Atihan is or has become, it is one of the few things in the Philippines that makes an entire city forget itself completely.