Showing posts with label Batak weaving techniques. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Batak weaving techniques. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 18, 2025

How 'Weft wrapping' became 'Wrapping the Warp': An Exploration of Weaving Terminology

My challenge, today, is in translating the Batak technical weaving terms, manirat and bonggit lilit, into Indonesian.  


The Batak have their own language, as well as a unique way of understanding the weaving arts. This is reflected in their weaving vocabulary. Academic English makes use of a 'standard vocabulary' that Irene Emery and others have developed over decades to make it possible to discuss weaving techniques across cultural boundaries. Indonesian is the language that will be used in the weaving text that I am translating from English. As far as I am aware, there is no standard weaving vocabulary in Indonesian. Indonesian takes from the indigenous vocabularies found in the archipelago, and has also incorporated many terms and perspectives from Dutch and English. My task is to translate from English to Indonesian in a way that makes sense within the Batak weaving world because the Batak will be my primary audience. They are the practitioners of the weaving tradition that I am trying to describe. It would be thoughtless to make translations that alienate Batak readers from their own art! The text that I am translating has already done that; it was written in English academese. I know, because I wrote it! I observed the Batak techniques and then scoured the literature to figure out how to label them correctly in academic idiom.


My task, now, is to search for the Indonesian words for these Batak terms, and if they exist, discern whether they convey what the Batak understand by their terms. If there is no ‘official’ translation, or if the translations do not accurately represent the Batak way of understanding their techniques, I must search for words that are more appropriate. I do not want Batak readers, upon reading my translation, to be led toward a Western way of seeing their craft tradition. This does mean, however, that I must understand the point of view offered by the Indonesian translation in addition to the Batak point of view that I am trying to achieve. Translating is not a simple matter of substituting Indonesian words for the Batak or English words. I need to understand the 'way of seeing' wrapped up in all of the words.


In short, my task is challenging, if not impossible. But I do my best to approach my target. I hope not only to assist in building an Indonesian weaving vocabulary, but to point to the logic and value of different vocabularies and embedded perspectives. 


Manirat

The Batak word, manirat, translates into academic English as ‘weft twining’. Batak ‘twiners’ practice this technique to decorate the fringe ends of their weavings. It is an off-loom technique. In academic English, the horizontal element, understood as ‘weft’, is twined around the vertical element, understood as ‘warp’, hence ‘weft twining’. 


A twined edge in the Siimalungun Batak cloth called 'Bulang' (Collection Author) 

Twining or winding is a concept that is held in common in Indonesian and Batak, and is indicated with the same word, lilit. However, for Batak twiners, the words ‘warp’ and ‘weft’ are not applicable. Because manirat is performed off-loom, Batak twiners speak of ‘twining yarn’ and ‘fringes’ but not ‘weft’ and ‘warp’. In addition, the word ‘lilit’ emphasizes what is being wound rather than what is doing the winding, whereas the element doing the winding receives more emphasis in English. As a result, the translation of the English expression ‘weft twining’ becomes ‘fringe-twining’ in Indonesian to represent the Batak term, manirat: pelilitan rumbai dengan benang lilit. 

 

Batak

English

Indonesian

 

 

 

Manirat – to make the sirat

Weft-twining - twining  (the fringes) with weft

lilitan rumbai dengan benang sirat (wrapping the fringes with the yarn used to make the sirat)

 

 

 

Bonggit lilit – patterning in a cloth made by wrapping the warp 

Weft-wrapping – wrapping (the warp) with weft 

lilitan benang lungsin dengan benang pakan (wrapping warp yarns with weft yarns)


Bonggit Lilit

The technique that the Batak call bonggit lilit means the bonggit pattern achieved by wrapping. This is weft-wrapping in academic English. (Readers may be familiar with this technique as ‘kilim’ because the weft of kilim rugs is wrapped around the warp.) In Tarutung, one of the Batak areas where the technique is practised, when weavers wish to make the weft-wrapped pattern, they stop shooting regular weft through the warp with a shuttle, and instead wrap thicker weft, of various colours, by hand, around the warp yarns to create patterns. Because they are working in the loom, both 'warp' and 'weft' are at play. Because the warp yarn is being wrapped, the word ‘lilit’ is again applicable, in both Indonesian and Batak. Once again, the word emphasizes the element that is being wrapped rather than the element that is doing the wrapping. ‘Weft-wrapping’ in English must become ‘wrapping of warp’ in the Indonesian translation, pelilitan benang lungsin. What that conveys makes sense both in Indonesian and to Batak readers. (My translator made a simple google-type translation without knowing the weaving background, and translated 'wrapping' as 'packaging'!)

 

Weft wrapping (bonggit lilit) in the Toba Batak 'sadum' cloth



The way the two techniques are presented in English has them in the same conceptual arena: a horizontal element winding around a vertical element. This essential similarity is not disturbed by 'manirat' being off-loom and 'bonggit lilit. on-loom. For Batak weavers, however, precisely this difference puts them in different conceptual camps. How the techniques are executed is much more prominent in the Batak vocabulary. The English standard vocabulary emphasizes the result rather than the process.

 

It is notable that all the elements implied in the two vocabularies are the same: warp and weft, on- and off-loom, and twining/winding/wrapping. What differs is the conceptual framework. If English has been geared to expressing universals through generalizations, such as ‘horizontal’ and ‘vertical’ elements, and Batak technical descriptions are wrapped up (if I may) in the specifics of the process, Indonesian zig-zags between the two, with many terms that are cognates to the Batak terms even while many perspectives are built on Western academic orientations. The Indonesian terms/explanations that I opt for must be understandable and accurate for an Indonesian reader at the same time not doing violence to the Batak way of seeing the processes.

 

It can take a lot of time to translate a single word because it can send me down a variety of rabbit holes, such as searching for the implications of the words warp and weft, on-loom and off-loom, wrapping and weaving, universal and specific. Each rabbit hole offers a tiny glimpse into another worldview, each piece of weaving vocabulary contributing to a larger pattern that will only gradually emerge. Patience, persistence, and holding one’s (pre-)conceptions in abeyance are required to get to the nub of the differences. The process is exciting because it offers a doorway into the unknown. I can imagine weaving techniques being compared not just at the level of what transpires in the weavers’ hands, but also how she frames them in her mind. 

 

For decades I have worked within the academic framework of building a universal, standardized weaving vocabulary. Having now realized how profoundly techniques are culturally-embedded and not 'neutral', I have also to recognize that my focus on a universal vocabulary has been an exercise in cultural erasure. A putatively universal prism has offered only a narrow, ethnocentric way of understanding Batak weaving. Seeing the Batak world through their weaving vocabulary is the more exciting project. Sometimes I lose sight of the value of the ‘universal’ project. What was it, again, and why was it valid? Who does it serve?


A twined edge in a Toba Batak cloth called 'Bolean' (Private Collection Pangururan)









Emery, Irene. The Primary Structures of Fabrics: an illustrated classification.  

Monday, March 07, 2011

Showing Rangsa ni Tonun

Fiber Face 3 has given us the opportunity to show our Rangsa ni Tonun film three times.

The first time was 12 February when Batak was chosen as the theme of the grand opening of Fiber Face 3. It was a very busy night -- the busiest that Fiber Face 3 has had to date -- with people lined up to the street to get in and all of the chairs taken. We don’t know how much this had to do with the Batak community coming out in full force. If they came, I think they went away satisfied. We had a full Batak gondang orchestra with the two brilliant players Marsius, amazing with his flute, and Sarikawan Sitohang mastering all of the instruments.

Sarikawan and Marsius Sitohang are wearing the red headcloths.
The set of drums was owned by Batak in Yogyakarta. The musicians
were thrilled to play with the talented Sitohang brothers.
(Photo MJA Nashir)
Mas Nashir orchestrated the opening performance. He had Ompu Okta doli (the male counterpart) recite the Rangsa ni Tonun text to the Sitohang musical accompaniment as the prelude to the premiere screening of our film.
Ompu Okta doli is reading his text while his wife, Ompu Okta boru, weaves
during the opening of Fiber Face 3 in Yogyakarta, February 2011.
(Photo MJA Nashir)
Afterwards we heard that the people who had been able to see it enjoyed the film but that many others were unable to see it because of the milling crowds. I personally felt pleased enough with the result that Nashir had prepared for this big deadline, but was aware that we haven’t yet finished our polishing; there is still plenty of work to be done.

After the opening, my brother (son of my sister in the Hutabarat clan), the protestant minister, Bonar Lumbantobing, contacted me to say that he could be in Yogya on the 17th of February and would he be able to see if he came to Fiber Face 3? This was just the spark that we needed to prepare another screening. He came with a group of enthusiastic and thoughtful theology students. First I gave them a tour of the Batak textiles in the exhibit, then showed the film.

Ito Bonar Tobing's class watching Rangsa ni Tonun on the television screen
in Taman Budaya where the Fiber Face 3 exhibition was staged
(Photo MJA Nashir)
 It was followed by a discussion about culture and religion. What has been lost, why, what can be done about it? We talked about the goal of Fiber Face to stimulate an awareness of the importance of indigenous textile techniques and the thought worlds wrapped up in cloth production.

This was a special moment for me. In Medan, ito Bonar had shared with me some of the insights he had gained from his explorations of Batak language. He had discerned, among other things, that Batak missionaries gave new denotations to Batak words that placed Batak culture in the light of their own European and Christian background and biases, a distortion, in other words, that often gave a negative twist to indigenous Batak beliefs. By discovering the real meanings of some of these Batak words ito Bonar has gained insight into the beauty of Batak culture. Such discoveries are powerful to a thoughtful, discerning mind such as his. I learned from the discussion that evening that the Batak church continues to question its relationship to indigenous Batak culture. So much has been lost that the students were scratching their heads. Why was it, again, that the church forbade so many elements of Batak culture? It all seems so innocuous today. Indeed, it is innocuous. There are essentially no spirit-worshipping Batak left and the culture has receded imperceptibly, like sand between the fingers. There is historical and cultural amnesia. Now the church perceives itself as a champion of Batak culture. Church leaders are asking themselves what they can do to rescue what remains.
(Photo courtesy Paulina Sirait)
The evening was crowned by Paulina Sirait’s minutely documented review of the evening on Facebook. She was one of the students in attendance. (The photograph to the left is courtesy of Paulina Sirait. It was taken of us in front of two of the textiles in the exhibition from Muara..)




 
 



(Photo by Nelly Sitorus)
 Another showing was held for the general public on Saturday evening, the 19th of February. This was an important showing for Nashir because he invited his friends and colleagues from his past in Yogyakarta. He left Yogyakarta about a year ago to pursue his future and life in North Sumatra. The decision was preceded by a set of circumstances, not all of them easy, and when Nashir got up to talk about what the film meant for him, he was overwhelmed by all of the emotions that came flooding back. The viewing of Rangsa ni Tonun was an opportunity for him to bring his friends up to date with his life and his creative accomplishments. Several of his friends stood up to give testimony to his creative talents, his courage in searching for a new path for himself, and his good heart.

Others in the audience asked crucial questions:
How much of the weaving world that was shown is still alive and how much was staged?
How vibrant is the Batak literary tradition? Does it still exist? (Thankfully, there was awareness that we had filmed a piece of Batak literature and not simply made a documentary of Batak weaving techniques.)
What is the gendered division of labour in Batak weaving?
The themes of cultural transmission and cultural loss dominated the evening.

Ompu Okta doli tells his story
about the very first ulos
(Photo by Nelly Sitorus)
 Our main stars, Ompu Okta boru and doli were in the audience. A highlight of the evening was when Ompu Okta doli stood up to talk about the origin and meaning of Batak ulos in Batak culture. He did so with his customary energy and narration skill transforming our space into a cozy Batak living room. Suddenly we were all grandchildren hanging on the lips of grandfather and culture was being transmitted from one generation to the next.

Much appropriate emphasis was placed on MJA Nashir’s single-handed filming, direction and editing of this film and he received some of the appreciation that he well deserves for his spectacular accomplishment. My job that evening was to present background issues related to the text and Batak ethnography.

I was sorry that there were some mix-ups and communication failures pertaining to our equipment just prior to the showing and we received a defective cable so that the colour red was absent from the film.

This evening, too, was crowned by Paulina Sirait’s enthusiastic review in Facebook. (We are grateful for this because Nashir and I were both so keyed up with our participation that we forgot to use our cameras.) She has attended all three viewings and this time she brought a sizzling bevy of Batak beauties with her. The spirit of Batak women is indomitable! May they all take up weaving!