C. Java traditional couture dying out

C. Java traditional couture dying out

By Ahmad Solikhan

MUNTILAN, Central Java (JP): Garment factories mass-producing
ready-made clothes for various purposes, such as suits, office
wear as well as men's and women's underwear sprang up in 1980s, a
welcome phenomenon for the larger part of the community, who
thought the clothes were efficient, practical and fashionable.

Unfortunately, this meant bad business for the ordinary
dressmakers. Only once a year, when the beginning of a new
school year is approaching, would they make a lot of money sewing
school uniforms for students of elementary and high schools.

Today, these people, who enjoyed their golden era in the 1970s
and 1980s, seem to have disappeared from the scene. It is
difficult to find them around now, as many of them, believing
that their job prospects are no longer promising, have turned to
other employment. Djoko Pekik, now a renowned painter whose
painting Celeng trilogy fetched Rp 1 billion, used to be a
tailor. He quit the profession in the 1970s.

Some of these dressmakers still cling to their old job but to
survive they have to really rack their brains. Usually they will
have their bases of operation either in the town or in the
suburbs and instead of making clothes they will usually just
restyle shirts or jeans for people of various professions in the
middle-to-lower income brackets.

Hundreds of dressmakers, mostly housewives, are found in
Muntilan, a small Central Javanese town famous as a center of
stone handicraft located not far from the tourist resort of
Borobudur Temple. These women will sit in a row, ready with their
hand-driven sewing machines, waiting for orders.

Strangely, they do not receive orders for clothes made of
thick cloth like jeans. They will only accept orders for clothes
made of thin cloth such as kebaya (a woman's blouse the front of
which is pinned together), batik used as a wraparound, surjan
(long-sleeved man's jacket usually of woven, striped material,
sarong, stagen (women's waist sash), blangkon (male batik
headdress) and even underwear. Their customers are usually local
farmers and merchants.

Before or after visiting the Borobudur Temple, some foreign
tourists will usually look around the place to buy some snacks or
drinks. While doing so, they are attracted by the presence of so
many dressmakers, and also by their manually-operated sewing
machines.

One of these dressmakers, Mrs Abdullah Zainuddin, 80, said
that one day a tall, blond Caucasian lady came to her,
accompanied by her boy friend. She unabashedly took off her T-
shirt and asked Mrs Zainuddin to sew some colorful patches on it.
Obviously she drew a lot of attention in the market area as she
was then only wearing her bra. "I sewed five patches and got Rp
5,000 in return. I was very happy, of course," said Mrs
Zainuddin, who has seven children.

A resident of Jumbleng, Muntilan, Mrs Zainuddin said that she
asked Rp 7,500 to sew a kebaya but that she did not name any
price for doing patchwork. During the two market days in a week,
Pon and Kliwon in the Javanese calendar, she can make Rp 10,000 a
day. In the days toward the Muslim post-fasting festive day of
Ied, a lot of customers ask her to sew new kebaya. "But I can
finish only three kebaya a day. I don't want to force myself. If
I get sick, I will have to spend more money for the medicine,"
she said, chuckling.

As old Mrs Zainuddin is already weak, she always needs to ask
a favor from someone else to make the sewing machine ready. Every
day she has to spend Rp 1,400 to cover the cost of carrying the
machine (Rp 1,000), the market levy (Rp 100) and the cost of
leaving the sewing machine in somebody's care. "If I do not get
any orders, I will have to fork out my own money," she said, in a
grumbling tone.

As a matter of fact, dressmakers began offering their services
in this area as far back as 1957. Although the manually-operated
sewing machines are no longer produced now, they have the
machines serviced regularly so that the machines, mostly under a
Singer trademark, can continue to be used.

Mrs Zainuddin, for example, bought her Singer sewing machine
at Rp 2 in 1955 and it was not until 1984 that the machine was
broken beyond repair, necessitating her to replace it with a
Butterfly sewing machine, for which she had to fork out Rp
50,000. "I'm proud as this job has enabled me to raise my
children properly," she added.

Suwandi, 52, the only male tailor in Muntilan traditional
market area, said that he would only take orders for restyling
jeans. He said he did not want to be a rival of the local women
earning a living sewing kebaya. A father of one, he said that he
began to receive sewing orders when he was 18. For eight years he
worked every night somewhere near Jatinegara railway station in
East Jakarta. As the number of people doing this job increased,
he decided to move to Muntilan. "I can earn between Rp 15,000 and
Rp 20,000 a day," he said.

Although the garment industry has pushed them aside, these
ordinary dressmakers feel happy because kebaya and surjan are yet
to be mass-produced. These traditional outfits are popular only
among elderly women in particular areas. Women in large cities no
longer wear kebaya and sarong. "City women find kebaya and sarong
alien to them. They say they must keep up with the latest
fashion. It is a pity they do not realize that in this way they
ignore their own cultural wealth," said Mrs Subardan while sewing
a kebaya.

Mrs Subardan is right. If kebaya is mass produced, what will
happen to these ordinary dressmakers? Perhaps, the manually-
operated sewing machines will have to go to the museum. Or, will
foreign culture eventually wipe out our regional culture?