Filipino feast calls for music and dancing

Juliana Gonzalez, left, and Ally Pendon slap sticks together as Becca Pendon, second from left, and Lexi Gowan demonstrate Tinikling, the national dance of the Philippines
Juliana Gonzalez, left, and Ally Pendon slap sticks together as Becca Pendon, second from left, and Lexi Gowan demonstrate Tinikling, the national dance of the Philippines
photo Juliana Gonzalez, left, and Ally Pendon, right, tap the sticks as Brienn Daniel Ayerdi, second from left, and Lexi Gowan demonstrate Tinikling, the national dance of the Philippines, Monday, June 27, 2016, at Heritage Park.

If you go

› What: Filipino-American Association of Greater Chattanooga lechon feast › Where: Harrison Bay State Park Pavilion, 8411 Harrison Bay State Park Road › When: 11 a.m. Sunday, Aug. 7 › Admission: $5 adults who bring a potluck dish and $3 for their children; $10 for adults who prefer not to bring a dish and $5 for their children; kids under age 5 are free. › Information: Call Elvie Smith at 423-800-2217

What's a Filipino feast without music and dancing? Well, not really a feast.

"But it can be hard to coax men onto the dance floor, which I guess is what women say in every culture," Elvie Smith, president of the Filipino-American Association of Greater Chattanooga, says with a laugh.

The roots of Filipino dance began when Spanish conquistadors punished Filipino farm workers who weren't picking crops fast enough to suit the bosses. Punishment came in the form of making workers hop back and forth between heavy sticks laying on the ground that the foremen smashed together swiftly around the workers' feet and ankles, hoping to cause pain. Filipinos are so resilient and spirited, they took the punishment and turned it into a dance that showcases agility and grace.

On a recent July evening in Heritage Park, a rainstorm forces the association's dance troupe under the huge, sheltering roof of the Henshell mansion. Spilling from a boombox is music that's lighthearted with silvery guitars accented by chiming percussion. The infectious beat is punctuated by crashing thunder as rain falls in heavy sheets. The dance is called Tinikling, a name that seems to fit the music's bell-like quality.

Juliana Gonzalez and Ally Pendon kneel down on the porch, then pick up two long, heavy sticks, about 3 inches in diameter, and begin banging them together. Barefoot Brienn Ayerdi leaps between the sticks and back out, his feet darting between them then away before they can smack his ankles. He never even breaks a sweat. Then girls come over and dance in and out of the crashing sticks until the dance is done.

"Wow, you get an upper-body workout working the sticks," Gonzalez smiles, "but it's easier than the dancing. When I was first learning how to dance, I wasn't quick enough on one jump and got my toe and heel smacked. But nothing was broken. We don't hit the sticks hard enough to break any bones."

She's wearing a crisp, lace jacket over a long red-plaid skirt; Ayerdi wears a red kerchief, loose white shirt and tan cargo pants. Both outfits are national costumes of the Philippines and still worn at special celebrations. Tinikling is not the only Filipino folk dance; the nation even has its own version of the tango.

"We actually have a lot of dances that are as passionate as the tango," Smith says.

Contact Lynda Edwards at 423-757-6391 or ledwards@timesfreepress.com.

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