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.