But the dance needed a purpose. At the time, the people of Loboc were preparing for the harvest festival—a thanksgiving to the spirits of the river and the rice fields. The village elder, a woman named Lola Sabel, recalled the washerwomen’s game. “Why not dance the Kiriwkiw ?” she proposed. “It honors the clever bird that eats the pests from our crops. And its zigzag path reminds us that life is never a straight line—it moves forward, then back, then side to side.”
Rather than ban the dance, the clever locals adapted. They performed the Kiriwkiw during the town fiesta in honor of San Pedro (St. Peter), tying the bird’s “free-spirited hunt” to the idea of the soul searching for righteousness. The dance survived, but its original, pre-colonial meaning remained intact—a mimicry of nature, a laugh at life’s unpredictability. Today, the Kiriwkiw is a treasured part of Bohol’s folk dance repertoire. It is performed during the Sandugo Festival (which commemorates the blood compact between Sikatuna and Legazpi) and in local school programs. The costume has evolved: women now wear colorful balintawak dresses with wide, fan-like sleeves to exaggerate the “tail” movement, while men wear simple barong and red trousers. The music is played with a rondalla —bandurrias, guitars, and drums—though the original kalutang beat remains central. kiriwkiw folk dance history
As the old folks in Loboc still say: “Indi deretso ang kinabuhi, parehas sa sayaw sa kiriwkiw.” (Life is not straight, just like the dance of the kiriwkiw .) But the dance needed a purpose
But the heart of the Kiriwkiw is unchanged. When the dancers take those three quick steps forward, two shy steps back, and then zigzag sideways, they are not just dancing. They are remembering Marikit by the river, the birds that taught them to be quick and light, and the wisdom that life, like the kiriwkiw in flight, is a zigzag path worth dancing all the same. “Why not dance the Kiriwkiw
The story begins with a group of women washing clothes by the cool, shallow banks of the Loboc River. As they beat the cloth against flat stones and wrung out the water, a flock of kiriwkiw birds flitted from bamboo clump to bamboo clump, performing their signature aerial dance. The birds would dart forward two steps, pause, hop backward, then fling their tails open like tiny folding fans before darting sideways in a zigzag. One woman, named Marikit, laughed and imitated the bird’s sudden, playful movements, shaking her wet patadyong (a wrap-around skirt) to mimic the fanning tail.
Long before the Spanish friars built the stone church that still towers over the Loboc River, the riverside settlements of Bohol were alive with the rhythms of daily life. The people fished, planted rice, and raised families, but they also watched the world around them with keen, observant eyes. Among their most fascinating neighbors was a small, restless bird called the Kiriwkiw —the Philippine Pied Fantail ( Rhipidura nigritorquis ), known for its jerky, never-still movements and its habit of fanning its tail as it hunted for insects.
The other women joined in, creating a rhythm by clapping their hands and stamping their feet on the damp earth. They sang a nonsensical, catchy phrase: “Kiriwkiw, kiriwkiw, talikod, abante, balik!” (“Turn, forward, back!”). What started as a spontaneous jest soon became a regular pastime.