Tough times for Bengkulu's traditional cloth

Hera Diani The Jakarta Post Bengkulu

After four lean years, batik producer and designer Sari Bulan sometimes wonders if it is worth it to continue making traditional Bengkulu batik cloth besurek.

Business has slumped as printed batik takes over from handmade besurek, the province's trademark cloth, in the market.

The meticulous, painstaking production by batik artisans certainly cannot compete for time efficiency with printed batik production, despite the inevitable mass market feel and look of the latter.

"I have fewer and fewer colleagues who produce handmade batik. One by one, they are losing their business," Sari Bulan, 48, told The Jakarta Post during a a visit to her small house in the provincial capital.

The old, tidy house, tucked in a small alley behind shop- houses on Jl. Mayjen Suprapto in the city center, is also her studio where she produces her name brand cloth.

Sari said there was a time when she felt completely demoralized in her efforts to continue the tradition of the cloth, something the native West Sumatran started in 1990 when she moved to the province along with her husband to seek better business prospects.

However, if not for the cloth business, Sari would probably have been unable to employ five workers or pay for her four children's university educations.

"I already have benefited from it, so I think it's a waste if I quit the business. Besides, I had a hard time learning the art of making batik, which is quite complicated. It's a tough job, actually, an art," said Sari, whose husband runs a drugstore.

Besurek is the Bengkulu word for bersurat, which means containing verses of the Koran, with the designs incorporating Arabic calligraphy and the Majapahit sunburst.

Recent besurek cloth has been modified, however, with the calligraphy combined with the motif of the province's famed Rafflesia Arnoldy flower.

"We make various designs, but the motif shouldn't stray from the combination of Arabic calligraphy and the flower," said Suhartini, or Opet, owner of Limura shop on Jl. S. Parman, who has a total of 40 employees.

Unlike on the original ancient besurek, variations of which are also found in South Sumatra, the calligraphy is only a series of Arabic letters which do not have any meaning.

"It's actually like a sketch which resembles Arabic letters," said Sari Bulan.

In some cases, the curvaceous letters even look a bit like Sanskrit.

In term of colors, besurek is similar to the coastal batik of Cirebon, West Java, and other towns on the north Java coast, with bright, glaring colors, contrasted with the dark brown and black hued batik of the court cities of Yogyakarta and Surakarta, Central Java.

According to Sari Bulan, the trademark hues are deep blue and red, but it also depends on the demand. South Sumatrans, for instance, love really bright colors like red and orange, while Javanese and West Sumatrans prefer more subdued tones.

Like in Java, Bengkulu batik artisans work with simple equipment, such as a small pan, wax, stove and the invaluable canting, the small dipper used to apply wax in the batik process.

The fabrics, all bought from Java, range from cotton to crepe and silk.

A piece of handmade besurek, measuring from 2.25 meters to 1 meter, can be done in three to seven days, depending on the intricacy of the motifs.

Limura produces about 150 meters a month, including printed batik.

"We use silk for handmade batik, otherwise it won't cover the production cost," Opet said, pointing to silk batik that costs from Rp 200,000 to Rp 350,000 a piece.

However, batik sold in most shops, including Limura, appears to have lost its distinctiveness, appearing little different from the cloth of Cirebon and other Javanese batik. Worse still is the clear sense that they are mass produced items.

Only in Sari Bulan's shop, where prices range from Rp 50,000 to Rp 300,000, does the real tradition of delicately crafted Bengkulu cloth continue.

Sari admitted it was tough finding artisans, as few people were interested in the art.

"Girls today are spoiled, they are impatient and don't persevere," said Sari.

Amid all the difficulties of changing fashion tastes and a lack of skilled workers, it's no wonder that many of her colleagues went bankrupt.

Based on the last year's data from the Besurek Artisans Cooperation (Kopinkra), there are only 10 artisans remaining from the listing of 22 before the onslaught of printed batik.

"Many of our members went bankrupt. Some of the remaining members also face financial difficulties," said Kopinkra secretary Ely Sumiyati in Kompas daily.

But the rarity of the batik also draws interest and there are always customers, which is probably the inspiration for some affluent people, including wives of government officials, to establish their own businesses.

With more funds at their disposal and a greater network of potential clients, they attract more customers, leaving the home industries trying to survive.

"Whereas if all of us went bankrupt, besurek will also disappear," said Sari.

As her own survival strategy, Sari said she planned to diversify the business, selling handicrafts and traditional snacks along with the cloth in a new store.

"I'm an artisan, but I don't want to be devote myself fully to the cloth like the old times. Otherwise I won't make any money," she said.