Pringgasela, a village in waiting

Pringgasela, a village in waiting

By Bret Galloway

MATARAM, Lombok (JP): One has to be awed by the sheer
complexity of weaving when watching a piece of cloth being made.
So many strands, so many colors, so many motions and counter-
motions. The warp and woof of it all. There, before one's eyes, a
work of beauty emerges from the chaos. And what about the future
of Pringgasela, a sleepy village of farmers and weavers in the
highlands of eastern Lombok? Will a bright and prosperous future
arise out of the vague strands of promise that lie ahead?

The question is pertinent when Pringgasela is compared with
the better-known weaving center of Sukarara, some 30 kilometers
southwest of Pringgasela. The weavers of both villages are
amongst the best in Indonesia, and yet prosperity and fame have
placed their laurels on the village of Sukarara and quietly
eluded Pringgasela. Whenever mention is made in a newspaper or
magazine article about weaving in Lombok, it is always about
Sukarara. The result is easily observed: Whereas Pringgasela is
still a small, poor village where traditional modes of life are
still very strong, Sukarara has begun the transition to becoming
a more affluent and modern town.

Although there are a few modern cinder block houses along the
main street of Pringgasela, most remain thatched, reed hovels
made from all-natural materials gathered from the area around the
village. Clothing, with the exception of sarongs, is generally
old, tattered and stained, or completely nonexistent in the case
of children (not unusual in tropical climates). The women who are
weaving entertain themselves by talking with neighbors and
relatives -- often identical in such a village -- and most choose
to work outside their houses, on the verandahs or even on the
swept ground of the compound, where there is more light and where
they can keep an eye on their children. In short, although some
signs, such as healthy and energetic dispositions, hint at
earnings substantial enough to support the basics of daily life
comfortably, it is evident that Pringgasela still finds itself
within the dull grasp of poverty.

At first glance, Sukarara appears no different. However,
closer inspection reveals a larger number of modern houses with
tiled roofs and indoor toilets. There are women clad in colorful
and traditional clothing who weave on verandahs here, too, but
the more one looks around, the more one finds women who choose
instead to work in their houses sitting on cool concrete or even
ceramic tile floors, their entertainment no longer neighbors but
now television sets pouring out the latest episode of Cassandra
or Inez into their mesmerized ears. They rhythmically work away,
dressed in trendy jeans, while their children play outside in
scanty, but noticeably new, clothing. Although not rich by any
means, it is apparent that affluence has put at least one foot
into Sukarara.

Genuine

The systems of production and marketing reveal more
differences. Pringgasela remains a genuine weaving village. Young
girls, usually at the age of six, begin their training in how to
weave, often practicing with the fibers from the husk of coconuts
under supervision and guidance of their mothers or grandmothers.
Around the age of ten, the boys begin working in the rice or
tobacco fields and the girls move on to making real textile
products; at first they weave small items such as table mats,
handkerchiefs or selendang (the strip of cloth, or sash, worn
diagonally over the shoulder by women) and then progress to full-
length swaths of cloth and sarongs when they feel ready.

For the past two years, the few retail shops in Pringgasela
have been working under a loose cooperative system. Sareh Erwin,
owner and manager of Songket, Lombok, claims that his products
are only made by family members in the surrounding compounds,
although it is quite possible that he accepts occasional pieces
from weavers outside that immediate group. Sukisman, owner and
manager of Glora Shop just up the road emphasizes the cooperative
contribution of his inventory, but it is probable that his family
members and neighbors make up a large share of it. The abundance
of family and neighborhood ties stems largely from the closeness
of life in a small village and highlights the importance of
community for these people, rather than any considerations of
nepotism.

Sukisman put the number of women who weave in Pringgasela at
about 500. All of them work about six hours a day, which, when
combined with other tasks such as caring for children, washing
clothes and cooking, makes for a very long day. To be sure, these
are productive women, worthy of any government's praise or the
support of groups promoting women in development. They both
produce income and help to keep the family structure intact and
healthy.

Generally, a weaver will spend between a week and ten days on
a selendang and a four to six weeks on a sarong, depending on the
grade and complexity of the piece being woven. Weaving thus
involves hard work, and after seeing the beauty and skill of the
finished product, the average selling price in Pringgasela of Rp
40,000 for a premium sarong seems very reasonable indeed. A
similar piece might sell for Rp 90,000 in a Jakarta department
store; some sold to Australia have fetched prices in the A$90
(approximately US$60) range there.

Woven products fall into three classes, the differences having
to do with the complexity and tightness of the weave. Colors have
little or nothing to do with the classification. A simple two-
toned swath can be first class and a motley one with more colors
than the rainbow only third. Although difficult to discern for
the novice, the difference can be felt in the feeling of
thickness and fullness of texture in the weave. A thin, smooth
piece is most likely third class, whereas a stiff, heavy fabric
implies first class. Within classes, prices will vary somewhat,
based on colors and intricacies of design.

Designs in Lombok are more geometrical and less ornate than
those in Java. The basic style, simply called songket by the
weavers, features a plain background with colored stripes
(primarily gold or silver, which gives it the name songket)
running the length of the cloth. Intricate geometrical designs of
the same color are subtly woven into the stripes, while the small
addition of another color in the cross-weaving of a thin stripe
will lend a certain depth to the cloth when viewed from a
distance. For the most part, only a few colors are used; if many
are woven in, then it is called songket timur. Another design has
a plain background with triangles or mountains lining the lower
edge of the cloth. This is called songket bambu and is only found
locally. Ragi montor, or sari menanti, is the traditional plaid
style which was apparently borrowed from fabrics imported by the
Dutch.

Community spect

Sukarara has much in common with Pringgasela when it comes to
the production process and design of cloth. What differs is that
the community aspect is weaker and there is more of a shift
towards mass-production for tourist consumption and less growing
naturally out of the rhythms of daily life. The quality of
product is just as high as in Pringgasela, but the delightful
subtleties and nuances of the artisans' work, so evident in the
latter village, are beginning to fade away in Sukarara. None of
which is to say that Sukarara produces inferior quality products
or that its inhabitants have divorced themselves altogether from
the traditions of their ancestors. However, changes have occurred
and Sukarara is beginning to pay a price for its preferred
position; one can only wonder if the same will come true for
Pringgasela should its sales increase.

The main contributions to Pringgasela's obscurity seem to be
lack of distribution channels, lack of business and marketing
knowledge and undeveloped English language skills (only Sareh
Erwin could comfortably carry on a conversation in English). None
of the managers spoken to had ever heard of those two Jakarta
marketing giants, Sarinah and Pasaraya, ever coming to the
village to inquire about their goods. A cursory walk through both
stores in Jakarta confirmed this. In fact, woven textiles from
Lombok, in spite of their unique design and the quality of their
weaving, are conspicuously absent from both stores, where the
florid style of Javanese batik predominates. Moreover, both
Sukisman and Sareh indicated that the only interest shown by
Indonesian businesses has come from shops in Ubud, Bali. Interest
to help distribute and market the village's products on the part
of the Indonesian government, which is professedly so dedicated
to developing coops and rural business, there has been none.

Much of the wholesale orders in the past have come from
foreigners who often just happened to be traveling through.
However, although often larger than the Ubud orders -- sometimes
as many as 100 at a time -- those from foreigners have so far
proven to be more erratic, and so a foundation of success still
appears to be like so many threads of enticing, colorful fabric
which cling impotently to waiting spools. One senses in the
owners' lack of understanding about how to begin improving the
situation a kind of resigned but good-natured helplessness.

Although Sukarara is more of a success story, the reasons are
not so clear; indeed, no master plan for development emerges.
Partly, luck has favored them. The village is close to the main
route between Mataram and the increasingly popular Kuta beach to
the south. Many tourists, wealthy enough to rent cars, will
travel past this village on their way to the 'unspoiled' sands of
Kuta. Having money and spacious transport, it is very easy for
them to purchase several items. Naturally they will spread the
word of this craft gold mine to others while traveling or to
their friends back home.

Certainly, Sukarara has also been able to nurture the
trappings of image and of connections which are so important in
marketing. They have apparently learned better to play the modern
game of business, making concessions to consumer whims, a vital
element of any successful marketing. Shops stand out more boldly
and the 'modern' elements so recently come to the village are
kept quietly in the background. In addition, the owners of shops
there, probably having more experience with foreigners, are
better able to communicate, and thus market, in English.

Pringgasela is not poorly located. It is only a few kilometers
from the main road between Mataram, the capital of Lombok, in the
west and Labuhan Lombok, the principal port linking Lombok and
Sumbawa, in the east, which makes it easy to reach by public
transportation. Although convenient, it has not been a route
heavily traveled by tourists until recently. Situated in the
center of a picturesque highland area known for its various
crafts, such as weaving, basket ware, woodcarving and
metalworking, it will likely grow in popularity as a destination
for foreign tourists. It could be that this will provide a
springboard for Pringgasela to launch its own success story in
the coming years.

Pringgasela remains traditional and true to itself, but it
also remains more of a commercial backwater and more confused
about its relative anonymity. This may very well change in the
near future; the degree of success it will have and the
alterations that success will bring about are still obscure. It
would be commendable if progress could be achieved in such a way
as to raise Pringgasela's affluence without destroying the
traditional patterns of life that are so strongly rooted there.
Although the Indonesian government or foreign aid organizations
may help them to do so, this is unlikely. For the time being, the
village will have to keep on waiting.