Saturday July 25, 2009
Power to the craftsmen
Stories by LEONG SIOK HUI
Almost five years old, volunteer-run indigenous craft stall, Gerai OA, has evolved beyond plugging for indigenous crafts and empowering the orang asli.
We’re sitting on the veranda of Nenek Bomong Dok’s threadbare wooden house with a zinc roof in Kg Simpai, a Jakun village near Muadzam Shah, Pahang, when she brings out tissue box-sized containers called sumpit tampong (portable betel box).
Woven from pandanus leaves, the tampong was traditionally used by hunters to carry areca nuts and betel leaves while on hunting expeditions. It takes four days for Bomong, 65, to make one tampong, from harvesting to weaving, and each one retails for about RM30.
Carpenter, Nenek Membek @ Ade Tiam, 60, fashions furniture out of mangrove tree buttresses and utility tools from coconut shells. Bomong is one of the 11 families of craftspeople in Kg Simpai that Gerai OA (Orang Asli/Asal) works with.
Founded in 2004 by craft researcher Reita Faida Rahim, 36, and Semai bamboo flute artisan Raman Bah Tuin, 38, Gerai is run by volunteers, with 100% of the proceeds going back to the artisans.
This non-profit mobile stall shuttles between craft shows and public and private events. Volunteers chip in to transport the crafts, and Reita’s apartment doubles up as storeroom. The items come with individual tags specifying the craftsman, where he hails from, and what the item is used for. From Semelai woven mats and Temuan pouches to Lun Bawang hand-painted clay beads and Rungus necklaces, the products are a showcase of the crafts from 17 indigenous groups.
Gerai aims to empower the indigenous communities, revive their craft traditions and document their heritage.
“We focus on the orang asli communities because they have fewer avenues for help,” adds Reita, Gerai’s coordinator.
“It’s not realistic for the villagers to come out and trade all the time. We’re giving them an alternative place to market their crafts and do away with the middleman syndrome.”
When they get invitations from the communities, Gerai will make an initial visit to suss out what the villagers want.
“If they have the raw materials and are keen to sell or revive a craft tradition, we’ll help out even if their skills are not up to par,” explains Reita.
She also advises them on the colour schemes, shapes and quality of products to make them more marketable. In 2007, Gerai organised a Pandanus Masterclass in Kg Chang Lama, Perak where different OA groups shared knowledge.
Utility tools from coconut shells “The Temuan ladies, for example, benefited greatly. Their colour schemes and weaving quality improved tremendously after the workshop. Now their woven wallets are always sold out,” says Reita.
Calling themselves Kumpulan Wanita Kembang Sejambak, these women from Kg Paya Rumput, Sepang, started with two weavers. Today, there are nine, and they have received a grant from a private corporation to replant pandanus and revive their weaving tradition.
An income supplement
Unlike a typical business, Gerai is not dictated by market demands and doesn’t dictate what must be delivered.
“This allows the artisans the flexibility to follow traditional calendars,” says Reita. “We don’t encourage them to think of selling crafts as the main source of income because it’s never enough.”
Take, for example, the people of Kg Simpal. They used to practise slash-and-burn agriculture; now they receive monthly payments in exchange for leasing out their land, which they supplement with handicraft. Gayah Deep, for one, earns an extra RM200-RM300 a month from handicraft.
“It’s enough for duit dapur (groceries),” says Gayah, 52. “Besides, it’s a good way to pass time instead of idling.”
A regular buyer inspecting a container made from pandanus leaf. One of the master weavers in Simpai, Gayah specialises in anyaman gila (mad weave), a complex hexagonal-weave pattern.
“Anyaman gila is found in many cultures, including the Malays, but the weaving skill is already extinct in most, except the Jakun and the Temuan,” says Reita.
The challenge for most of Simpai’s weavers is the lack of raw materials. Some weavers have resorted to buying pandanus from other villages.
A few years ago, the villagers planted about 200 seeds under a UNDP (United Nations Development Programme) project but less than 10 plants survived, Gayah says. Moreover, oil-palm has taken up most of the land.
During our visit, Bomong says they haven’t received payment from the oil-palm scheme for two months. She and husband Nenek Aken live mainly on this RM397 per month payment.
“We are still waiting for the sawit (oil-palm) money and owe the provision shop just to eat,” says Bomong.
Reita hands her RM167 from the previous sales, plus an advance for her new work. It’s enough to tide them over till the end of the month.
Bomong also receives a “care package”. On her visits, Reita usually stocks up on staples like rice, cooking oil, coffee or tea and biscuits for deserving families.
Beyond the crafts
Since 2004, Gerai has evolved into an organic entity that does everything from sending clothing and medicines to orang asli flood victims, to recording oral traditions, to selling crafts. Today, craft sales constitute only 20% of what Gerai does. The other 80% is spreading her thin, Reita admits.
“Reita gives us constant support, training and advice,” says Malina Soning of Kg Tinanggol, a Rungus village in Kudat, Sabah.
“She has looked for donors to help build our gravity pipes, renovate the dilapidated homes, found funds for school fees, children’s clothing and hospitalisation fees.”
Malina is a coordinator for the Sinompuru ladies’ group who fashion necklaces, bracelets and belts from plant seeds and glass beads. The group is made up of single mothers, widows, senior citizens and poor families. Each member contributes about 25% from the sale of their crafts to the fund. Members can borrow from the fund, interest-free, to use for a child’s schooling or medical needs.
In 2007, Reita set up Gerai’s medical fund to stock up on over-the-counter stuff like paracetamol, plasters and antiseptic creams.
“Some of these remote villages have limited access to basic healthcare,” explains Reita.
Keeping Gerai OA going
Over the years, Gerai’s perennial challenge has been to find enough rent-free spaces to peddle its wares.
“Sometimes we have no choice but to pay rent. Volunteers have chipped in and communities who can afford it have also helped out,” says Reita.
“Sometimes donors pay for our rent, so we can keep the ‘100% back’ promise.”
As the village network grows, however, it has become difficult for Reita to make regular visits. Villages in Sabah and Sarawak especially only get annual visits, though she keeps in touch via text messages.
“Although I don’t want to over-reach, it’s sometimes difficult to say no when artisans are so willing to revive certain rare crafts. But maybe I do have to learn to say no.”
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