Gender equality a threat to unique Donggala silk

Hera Diani, The Jakarta Post, Donggala, Central Sulawesi

Juleha, 67, is proud of the fact that three of her daughters, of five children, have their own careers and are financially independent.

Yet, the resident of Kabonga Kecil village, Banawa district, complained about how young women today refuse to learn the skill that has been passed down through generations: weaving.

"My daughters just don't want to do this. They're lazy, or have got too many other things to do: teaching and working. And while they're at work, they drop their children here and ask me to mind them," sighed the woman at a recent visit I made to her house.

In front of her was the traditional weaving equipment made of ebony, gedokan, as Juleha prepared to work on another sarong in the living room that noon.

Around her, two toddlers ran around the simple wooden house, while one of her daughters-in-law was trying to put her baby to sleep.

"If my grandchildren are not around, I can finish more quickly," Juleha said while looking for her glasses, finding them in a wooden box filled with thread.

She is justified in worrying, though, as Juleha is one of only three elderly women left in the village with the skill to produce traditional handwoven cloth.

Donggala regency is famous for its home industry that produces handwoven cloth, or ikat, made of silk, which has become a trademark of Central Sulawesi.

Unfortunately, handwoven textiles are on the brink of extinction, as fewer and fewer women are willing to master the skill, like Juleha's daughters.

At neighboring Wani village, there is not a single woman left who can weave using gedokan. In the past, Wani was the most famous place, turning out Donggala silks, using natural dyes.

Handwoven cloth is still produced in the area, but with more modern, more sophisticated equipment (ATBM), which is faster and more productive.

That is part of the reason why young women prefer to work with ATBM, as a piece of cloth can be finished in less than a week, compare with two weeks or even months if working with gedokan.

However, ATBM cannot produce certain motifs that are the trademark of Donggala silk. Although slicker, ATBM cloth lacks the detailing and unique "imperfections" found in traditional handwoven cloth.

"Bombakota (a checkered motif) is difficult to make on ATBM. It can't weave two-sided cloth like this either," Juleha said, showing off one of her creations, where one side has golden thread, which does not show through on the other.

Juleha has woven using both ATBM and gedokan, but since last year, she gave up the ATBM as she found it too large and cumbersome to operate in her old age.

She then recalled how she learned the craft back in the World War II period, when the Japan colonized the country.

"We had plenty of food back then, but there was no fabric, let alone clothes. The Japanese taught us how to plant cotton, make thread and use natural dyes," said Juleha, whose husband is a retired schoolteacher.

Today, she said, people here no longer used natural dye as it could only be applied to cotton.

"But we don't produce cotton anymore, because it's really difficult to weave. The material is easily broken. We only use silk now, and that's what has made Donggala famous."

It was amazing to see Juleha installing the threads one by one on the more-than-100-year-old gedokan, as she recognized well what the motif would be, while it was still in the form of thread.

"Hey, there's a high level of mathematics involved. There is nothing that has not been calculated. I may only be an elementary school graduate but I'm experienced," she bragged, laughing.

Now, she no longer breeds silkworms, making thread and dyeing it. Others exist who can provide that service, and thread is readily available on the market.

"But now it's becoming more expensive. Before the economic crisis in 1997, three threadballs, which could produce one piece of cloth, cost only Rp 25,000. Now they cost Rp 105,000," Juleha said, shaking her head.

Her creations cost about Rp 300,000 to Rp 350,000, but Juleha said the profit was not that great.

"Well, it's not bad, it helps my husband," she said.

But at least she does not have to look for customers, as people come to her house: government officials, tourists and others.

Sometimes they order, and many prefer purple, brown and grey hues.

"It usually takes two weeks for me to make a piece of cloth. My mother, though, worked very fast, taking only three days to a week," Juleha said.

When asked whether she felt sad that handwoven silk might become extinct, Juleha paused for a moment, looking into the distance.

"I'm sad, of course, but well, what can I say?" she asked wistfully, while continuing with her work.