Batak Texts go Back to the Villages

I have said it before: my Pulang Kampung projects have been the most inspiring that I have ever undertaken and this is because of the reactions of the Batak people. There is nothing more exciting, more moving, than to restore elements of a people’s culture to them and to be privy to their reactions. All of these Pulang Kampung projects have been driven by a longing to return something of value to these people who have given me so much of value to me and other researchers through the years. As satisfying as each project has been, I have felt disappointment because I couldn’t do more. It has all just been a drop in the bucket compared to what is truly needed to reinvigorate this culture that has not been advantaged by recent history. Hence my bigger dream: to repatriate Batak texts.

The Batak texts were written by intellectuals: shamanic figures, medicine men, orators, astronomers and astrologers, poets, writers, philosophers, specialists in ritual, augury and the spiritual world. When especially this facet of Batak culture was condemned by the church (out of concern that this information came from the devil), the intellectual core of the Batak world was dealt a fatal blow. My film, Rangsa ni Tonun, was a creative project that demonstrates the power of one small text. It has inspired many, invigorated new conversations, generated new insights. It has been a cultural spark. How much more could be done if others had greater access to the Batak written heritage! It has become my dream that these texts be returned to the Batak people.

Reintroduction of the texts will not be easy. The number of people who are able to read these texts can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Even in digital form, who will devote the effort needed to understand them, with their esoteric language and illustrations? And yet one must begin somewhere. Distributing my book, Legacy in Cloth, was like tossing seeds in the ground; if just one seed were to take root it would all be worth the time, effort and expense. One seed can grow and multiply. Afterall, Batak culture emerged, in all likelihood, from a small handful of people. But that one small initial seed is critical.

I have peddled my idea of the repatriation of the texts (nota bene in digital form) to those in charge in the library of Leiden University and the new National Museum of World Cultures in Leiden. Due to recent institutional mergers, these two institutions now hold the bulk of Batak textiles outside Indonesia. The idea has met with an enthusiastic response. What could be more gratifying than to restore to a people their intellectual corpus! My current journey to Indonesia meant that our inaugural project meeting date, very regrettably, had to be postponed, but I was given the green light to share our intentions.

It is as though the project is “in the air”. Angry Batak youth on Facebook have expressed their frustration that this body of intellectual work is not accessible to the Batak people. The textual privation is mentioned now and again in passing. Just two days ago an elected representative in the Samosir Regency noted the importance of reclaiming Batak texts. He said it during a formal meeting called to explore options for remembering the great Batak poet, Sitor Situmorang. It was a little off topic but somewhat apt as well. If Sitor had lived two hundred years ago, even just a century ago, I am sure he would have been one of those Batak gurus. If he was still alive, he would have supported this project whole-heartedly. I was grateful to have been given the license to talk about this new Pulang Kampung project openly. The writings will be coming back, I said, albeit in digital form. Let’s work together to make it happen in the best possible way. Those attending the meeting were pleased and surprised.

I personally don’t regret that they will be coming back in digital form. It is a more democratic form. Nobody will be able to horde the stash and restrict access (this is one of the most frustrating things about trying to do research in Indonesian museums, libraries, galleries and archives). The possession of knowledge in Batak culture has never been a democratic thing. Men new to the written arts had to pay dearly and long-term to those in the know to be able to gain access to the esoteric knowledge. The restriction of access meant that the cache of knowledge remained special, sacrosanct, a little frightening, commanding respect. I am convinced, however, that this knowledge must return precisely to the villages that are dying out, emptying out as they lose their resources and as the youth go to live in the cities. Let there be something in the villages on which the inhabitants can build an intellectual life! The villagers have been disadvantaged too long and too much by power being in the hands of those living outside their domain.

…

A few days ago I met with Jesral Tambunan in his home. (He is a young Batak wood carver, honourary member of the last Pulang Kampung project.) He showed us drawings that he had come across in the context of woodcarvings. What did they mean? Of course the written Batak intellectual tradition also has strong connections with the carved tradition. I longed to have a computer at hand and to be able to download some of the indigenous Batak texts that would give Jesral the answers that he is looking for and that would send him down new rich pathways of discovery. Instead, I could only promise that when I am back in Holland, I will (labouriously) look up some books, make scans, send them to him. And then we would both still have to count ourselves lucky! How much better it will be in the future when access is easier.

Intermezzo

We are back in the third largest city in Indonesia: Medan and back in Hotel Tiara. If it’s not Viennese waltzes, it is the schmaltzie Bee Gees playing in the Lobby….Gotta get a message to you….! One more hour and… I have to be ready to visit the Sultan’s Palace to see if it is an appropriate activity for our weaver tour next year. Tomorrow, my traveling companion for the tour preparations, Jantine Koobs, will be on a plane heading home to The Netherlands. I will be turning around and heading back to the Batak villages.

My thoughts are not entirely with the end of our pre-tour journey, but with the preparations to leave again for the Batak Villages and the completion of my Back to the Villages project.

Laundry is already done. Possibly I should buy some peanut butter and crackers. It hasn’t been easy being vegetarian here. I have eaten altogether too much capcay and gadogado and ignored the occasional shrimp and chicken bouillon that has found its way into it all.

Negotiations are underway to see if Mas Nashir will join me to photograph the events. He is a Javanese photographer, a friend of my friends Nia and Ismoyo, batik artists in Yogyakarta, and of my new, very interesting and dynamic acquaintances, Irwansyah and his wife, Ritha. The latter professors at the University of North Sumatra are doing what they can to record and revive the tail end of the music traditions of Sumatra.

We have to find the right vehicle and driver to take us to the villages. I am terribly appreciative of our excellent Javanese driver of the past two weeks, Pak Saito (of Narasindo Tours), but I am concerned about bringing him too deeply into the villages where pigs and dogs are eaten; it will make him feel uncomfortable even though he will hide his feelings. Reluctantly, therefore, I am looking for a Batak driver who will enter differently into the spirit of it all. He will undoubtedly bring a new and interesting dynamic to it all. In addition, it will be good for him to learn what we will be learning about the Batak weaving arts.

I am behind on my blogs. I still want to share the happenings in the Silindung Valley where I was reunited, at long last, with my closest Batak families. First, however, the Sultan’s Palace is on the agenda.

See Back to the Villages - the map!

Market day in Merek

Wednesday is market day in Merek. En route to Si Tolu Huta, we briefly got out of our vehicle to determine which textiles were for sale. The findings were disappointing and nothing to write home about (a few sarongs from Balige, one from Madras, India and some Batak textiles woven on semi-mechanical looms). My attention was drawn by a woman quivering in anger and screaming at some men across the street. Her disheveled hair had fallen out of its knot and she looked quite wild. A bit of a crowd had formed. At first I thought she may have been mentally deranged but then I saw her shopping bag lying in a muddy hole in the road. She began to gather her chilly peppers and cabbages but gave up in fury, stood up and resumed her litany of insults and accusations. I saw that she was very close to tears and this moved me deeply. Batak women are toughened by life and don’t cry over spilt milk. Sizing up the situation, I assumed that she had been jostled by a careless driver and lost her week’s groceries. Having probably used up all of her money, she was facing a difficult week.

I had a bill in my pocket; with the differential in currencies between North and South, it represented little to me but much to her. I walked over to her and placed it in her balled-up hand. At first she turned her anger on me, screaming that she didn’t want it. Then she looked down and saw it. The screaming stopped and there was a moment of confusion. Then suddenly there was a smile on her face. She looked over at the men again with a touch of smugness and victory. We waved goodbye to each other.

Of course I empathized with her, not only in her state of loss, but also in her state of relief. I have had many kindnesses shown to me, many of them in Indonesia. They have won my undying loyalty to my Batak “family”.

It is so easy, where poverty bears down from close quarters, to represent a miracle for someone.

See Back to the Villages - the map!

Last Gasp

Kaban Jahe. For centuries, because of the market, this town has been a centre of indigo dyeing for the Karo Batak. I wanted to see what had become of this activity and give books to the dyers that I wrote about in Legacy. The first stop was the market. The textile proprietors would be able to give me their addresses.

I was warmly received, but was very sad to note that not a single indigo-dyed piece was available to purchase. Moreover, all of the blue pieces that I looked at had been woven in Tarutung for the Karo market and the quality was low. Nothing was reminiscent of the thick, sumptuous teba and julu textile types of the past.

Nande Pulung, the proprietors told me, was still dyeing yarn. Jalan Irian, they said, in front of the SMA RK. It wasn’t far away, but Nande Pulung was in Medan attending to a sick child. Her neighbour, Nande Indra, who used to come over and assist with the dyeing, had become a market seller, they told me at Nande Pulung’s house, so off we went back to the market to hunt for her.

I found her sitting quietly and alone in her stall. I handed her the laminated page of Legacy in which she is depicted (p. 129) and sat down with her. 

 Nande Indra in her market stall at Kaban Jahe, June 2010

She tried to recall that moment 24 years ago and reminisced about the textile that she had that day on her head. It had been her mother’s and was from Aceh.

Nande Indra and Nande Pulung, Karo dyers, 1986.  Fig SR 3.8 Page 129 Legacy in cloth

What she told me amounts to the story about the last gasp of indigo dyeing in the Karo area: she had stopped working with Nande Pulung long ago; Nande Pulung had stopped dyeing with natural indigo ten to fifteen years ago; she didn’t know if Nande Peringitten was still alive; the elderly woman in Kampong Kwala near Tiga Binanga had passed away; there was nobody left in Karo who worked with natural dyes, and the people in Kampong Tanjung had ceased to cultivate tajem, their indigo plant. The tradition was dead.

This is a momentous fact. The Karo, the “blue Batak” had once been renowned for their indigo dyeing and had provided for needs all the way to Si Tolu Huta (Tongging, Silalahi and Paropo). They were the only Batak to practice plangi and tritik because they wanted to decorate the imported white cotton that they dyed blue. I think that they were also the only Batak to cultivate the indigo plant. (According to my information the Toba tradition harvested a wild salaon growing on the hillsides.)

Decline set in early in the twentieth century. Sitting there in the market, talking with Nande Indra, it was beginning to sink in. The Karo dyers whom I met while researching Legacy: Nande Pulung, Nande Indra and Nande Peringitten in Kaban Jahe and the elderly weaver in Kampong Kwala, were the last ones in this great tradition. And it had slipped away, not with a bang but a whimper!

Nande Pulung was the only dyer left in Kaban Jahe and she now worked strictly with chemical dyes. I have a book ready to give to her as soon as she returns from Medan. For her, I selected the message from donor Tim Babcock who emphasized the importance of passing on knowledge to the younger generation:

Batak weavings give immense pleasure not only to people in
Indonesia but also to textile lovers all over the world. Please
keep dyeing beautiful high quality ulos as long as you are
able, and pass your skills on to as many of the younger
generation as you can!

I will ask her if she is willing to demonstrate indigo for the Dutch weavers whom I will bring with me next year to the Batak area to learn about the Batak traditions. Clearly, only a financial incentive can revive this tradition.

See Back to the Villages - the map!

The Dutch in San Francisco

That the nameboard on my booth at the fairs announced my residence in Oosterbeek, The Netherlands, turned out to be a great boon. Many Californians of Dutch heritage made a beeline over to me to practise their Dutch and to reminisce about their Dutch past in comparison with their California present. Having, myself, a Dutch father who emigrated to Canada, we found that we had much in common.

One highlight of such meetings was the visit from Jaap and Petra Veerman. Jaap Veerman had recently been installed as the Deputy Consul of the Netherlands in San Francisco. His and Petra’s enthousiasm as collectors of Asian art was second only to their enthousiasm for promoting Holland in the world. Inevitably the conversation led to the potential role that the Dutch consulate could play to involve foreign Dutch nationals, and especially local Indonesian Dutch, in the fairs. The conversation evolved as we went to speak with Louis Rierijnck, another Dutch booth-holder at the fair and then further again in the Veerman home two days later where we enjoyed a warm welcome and a delicious meal. Their enthousiasm for Dutch Design and the accomplishments of the local Dutch in the San Francisco area was so infectious that I found myself wishing that I had also made foreign affairs my career...

One of the most noticeable Dutch contributions to American society is the café chain called “Peet’s” that began in Berkeley. To my delight, they had a special on of Batak Blue coffee while I was there, and the walls of their coffee parlours were decorated with high-quality indigenous textiles.

                       
....I wonder if they would be interested in blue Batak textiles....

 

Another serendipitous meeting at my booth was with Marijke van Doorn who invited me to her Berkeley home for tea. There I also met Riet, a Dutch professor at UC Berkeley and Mariet Braakman, artist. Their warmth and enthousiasm for Asian art and for my book added a special glow to my experience of the fairs.

My thanks to Michael Craycraft, Galerie Arabesque, for use of his photo of my stand at the fairs!

Shared Cultural Heritage

I wrote Legacy in Cloth with Batak weavers in mind and the many, many other Batak who showed me hospitality, kindness and patience. I always find it problematic when anthropologists don't take the time and trouble to show their " products" to the hosting populations who gave them their information in the first place, hence my plan to return the weaving heritage to Batak villages in the form of this book.

Of course such a plan has pitfalls, e.g. the errors and misplaced emphases in my book can take on a life of their own. However, what never occurred to me -- perhaps because I never dreamed that the book would be published as lavishly as it was -- was that the book might also engender some wariness amongst Batak readers. I SHOULD have thought of this. After all, while doing my fieldwork, when I showed photographs of museum pieces to the villages in North Sumatra, their reactions were mixed, everything from awareness of unfairness: " How do you get access to these things while we don't? " to distrust, " No, we never wove that way." to covetousness " Please give me the picture when you leave because I find it inspiring." With this book, I wanted to give all Batak the opportunity to own all of the photographs. As I said, this desire was born of my thankfulness to my hosts.

There aren't many copies of the book yet in North Sumatra (the first shipment got held up for 4 months in customs) and I haven't had much opportunity to observe reactions to it yet. However, I already notice a recurring theme, viz. perplexity tinged with scepticism. I am the "belanda" or the " orang asing" who wrote the definitive book about an element of Batak heritage. That doesn't sit right. It was alright to ask my Batak friends and acquaintances for information about their heritage, but who am I to GIVE the Batak information about their heritage?

I also hasten to point out that it is designers like Merdi Sihombing who will take Batak textiles into the future and give the art a niche in modern life. I hope with all my heart that my book might be useful to people like him. If it can contribute to any form of maintenance or revival of the art, then I will be satisfied and happy.

But there is another side to this story. Acknowledging the fact that the Batak weaving arts belong unquestionably to the Batak and that nobody can legitimately appropriate them, then there is still the fact that hundreds of Batak woven textiles have found their way into museums in Holland, Germany, Switzerland, France, Canada, USA, Denmark....where they have been tended (many of them for a century or more), exhibited, researched, documented, used in demonstrations, researched and written about -- essentially played a variety of roles in Western history and culture. Moreover, by virtue of transfer -- through some form of exchange or gift-giving -- they are now " owned" by the West and have become, consequently, part of Western heritage. They are testimonials to relationships of all kinds: colonial, tourist, artistic, familial...

My book, Legacy in cloth is therefore about a Western as well as a Batak cultural heritage. I enjoy the irony that despite the suspect origins of Western museums and my discipline of anthropology, quite unbeknownst to the original collectors (and to writers like myself) our efforts can now be appropriated and used by the original hosting cultures to their own advantage, however they deem fit. To my Batak friends, I say: I do not have the last word. Write your corrections on the pages! Use this book for inspiration! Argue with its premises! Remould it to make it fit your needs! I have written my insights derived from my experiences and I will continue to do that. The heritage that I have written about is not only shared between North Sumatra and North America and Northern Europe, but with the whole world. Let us build together on the legacies of our respective ancestors.