Sepatokimin is an initiative to protect women from human trafficking while archiving the archipelago’s diverse weaving culture.
Indonesia is well known as a go-to tourist spot for its beaches and cheap food, and the country is also known for its textiles.
There are thousands of weaving techniques retained in specific parts of the archipelago, with ikat, songket, and batik as the three most prominent and researched techniques.
While batik was recognised by UNESCO as a cultural heritage of the country in 2009, the knowledge of textiles that locals usually have barely scratches the surface of the country’s expansive history.
It’s an uncharacteristically cold morning in Ubud, and amidst the noise of bustling traffic and heavy rain, I am running late to a Timor-weaving greeting cards workshop.
To my relief that seemed to be the case with most of the other workshop attendees, combined with Indonesians’ tendency to run on ‘rubber time’ as they take the day at a leisurely pace.
While people scurry in to shelter from the rain, they are welcomed by comforting Indonesian snacks in A Working Title’s office space, located above a newly-opened juice bar.
Gathered on the large table is an array of colourful paper, a basket of yarn, needles and blank postcards while weaved tapestries adorn the walls of the workshop.
Gabriella, the host of today’s morning activity, gave us an informative rundown of different weaving techniques adopted by villages and townspeople from all over the archipelago.
Each region uses elaborate techniques and weaving tools for intricate patterns, incorporating human figures and pieces of the natural world embroidered in the fabric.
What we’re doing is an oversimplified stitch on recycled paper cards, mimicking the sotis weaving technique found in Boti and motifs from the indigenous Mollo, both areas located in the South Central Timor Regency.
The room fills with busy hands and laughter as people shuffle between colour schemes, passing scissors and yarn baskets across their workstations while taking inspiration from the displays that hang like canopies.
With a background in craft and design, Gabriella Manurung is the programme director and textile and craft researcher of Sepatokimin, an initiative working to document Indonesia’s traditional culture while empowering its communities and cultivators.
They place an emphasis on the intersection between the crafts industry providing economic opportunity for regions of Indonesia.
Founded in 2019, the initiative has worked closely with many communities, giving a push towards development and improving the citizens’ livelihoods. They were recognised legally in 2023 and have since collaborated with communities in deprived areas of the country.
Comprised of four members, Sepatokimin was formed after their experience working together in the Creative Economy Agency of the Republic of Indonesia.
“It’s like an artist residency, where business developers and various designers are tasked with collaborating with the local community around Indonesia,” Gabriella explains. “My cohort was scattered around Singkawang [West Kalimantan], Wakitobi [Southern Sulawesi] and Belitung Island.”
Gabriella was eager to contribute to the programme: “This was our first time experiencing the intersection of design and craft with development. I learnt that designing is beyond aesthetics and does have a direct impact,” she adds, referring to her designer peers who are on the same programme.
She recounts the team of architects, fashion and product designers, and working alongside the business developers and anthropologists that make up each team.
However, she felt the time constraint and unchangeable framework affecting her contributions: “I was wondering, why is it that the teams recruited by the government are usually people from big cities like Jakarta and Bandung? From our point of view, it seemed ‘unequal’, even though collaboration is successful if both parties have the same agency.”
Since then, the Sepatokimin initiative has worked closely with five communities scattered around the country, aiming to enrich them and give them a push to kickstart their own development.
Over the years they have been documenting the country’s textiles, weaving techniques, agriculture, local cuisine and biodiversity, issuing their findings through published essays, cookbooks and ‘zines.
Sepatokimin also works with vulnerable communities in less well-connected regions of Indonesia. A few years ago, in collaboration with Indonesian shoe brand Prabu and leprosy survivors living in Liposos village in Kalimantan, they released an eco-friendly shoe collection titled ‘Simpul’ (‘knot’ in English).
Providing formal work for the citizens of the village, they also combatted the stigma behind leprosy while allowing survivors to express themselves creatively through their craft.
While it provided them an opportunity to work and support the local economy, the natural materials were also harmless to the environment, Gabriella explains.
The team of the initiative are scattered around the country, with Gabriella and another member in Bali, one in Jogja and another in Bekasi. Her work with the initiative takes them to many villages and provinces, and as of 2024 Sepatokimin have travelled to Flores and Central Timor in East Nusa Tenggara, Bengkayang and Singkawang in West Kalimantan and Wakatobi in Southeast Sulawesi.
“We usually already have a link in said regions, whether it’s connected by friends, or having previously worked there,” Gabriella says. “We also network. I mean, what is socialising if not speaking to people and sharing our story? Up until now, we have worked in these selected regions because of our social connections.”
Her work involves collaboration alongside communities with differing dialects and upbringings: “The most interesting lesson for me was how I had to unlearn a lot of things. These communities I work with I have knowledge of through books and from university, but it is much more complex when we’re at the site.” she adds.
Among the five communities they’ve worked with, Gabriella has worked with the citizens of Kuale’u, a village in central Timor, East Nusa Tenggara. Sepatokimin provided opportunities for the women to stay in the village, aiding in their weaving practice and encouraging economic development.
By providing resources for the women of the village to continue their craft, the initiative also worked to prevent them from falling victim to human trafficking, as well as rekindling the region’s distinct weaving motifs.
Being a researcher specialising in textile and craft, Gabriella’s biggest takeaway from her time in Kuale’u was their communication with the weavers: “Besides learning to work with people with traumas, the approach is different,” she told us.
“For example, we would avoid bringing up topics that might trigger them. At the same time, we have to be able to understand them, but how do we go about it without being too direct?”
The unspoken issue of human trafficking has been prevalent in rural areas of East Nusa Tenggara. With minimal work opportunities in deprived areas, many women are forced to relocate for work and unfortunately end up in abusive environments. Their labour is often exploited and this brings harm to the women and children who are forced to migrate and are vulnerable to trafficking across Asia.
During Sepatokimin’s time with the women and youth of Kuale’u, they also met Pastor Emmy Sahertian. Joining as a member of the Synod of the Evangelical Church in 2013, she is a prominent activist in East Nusa Tenggara and has been working with victims of human trafficking for the past 10 years.
Providing a home for survivors, the pastor-activist also welcomes the young women who never made it back alive, putting their bodies to rest in the motherland after returning from Hong Kong and Malaysia, which were among the many places the women were sent to.
This issue has been happening for decades and for a plethora of reasons. In an interview with Alinea, pastor Emmy says the root of this problem is mainly due to “the economic conditions of families in remote or rural areas, [they] struggle from the lack of productive land due to agrarian conflicts.”
She elaborates by linking the high demand for low-paying, informal labour in neighbouring countries, which pushes South Central Timor natives to relocate.
“This makes them vulnerable to exploitation and human trafficking, which is also strengthened by the existence of mafia networks. Whether local, national or transnational, the practice is backed up by officers or higher-ups,” she adds.
To eradicate human trafficking, “there must be affirmative action from the local government.” pastor Emmy says. Dealing with the roots of the problem, opposing the syndicates who are behind the trafficking, more accessibility to job centres and training are some of the many suggestions she elaborates on.
But Gabriella and her modest team of four can only do so much to help the victims at Kuale’u village, one of five other villages in Mollo; so who knows just how much exploitation goes unnoticed?
“Sometimes it makes us feel hopeless, working towards something far bigger than us,” Gabriella says. “However, I look at the work pastor Emmy has done and how from day to day she nurtures hope in the survivors. Seeing the survivors’ resilience has also been very admirable, and I think for them to want to share their story is very cool!
“I grew up in a Christian family but wasn’t super religious. Listening to the pastor’s story made me realise ‘this is probably true Christian faith’, and there are people out there who put their faith towards something bigger than themselves.”
Tranquil music fills the silence of the afternoon, a contrast to our high spirits in the morning, hands working away at the greeting cards. While in the comfort of the office, as Gabriella teaches us the history and craft of textiles found around East Nusa Tenggara, I am reminded of her and Sepatokimin’s work with the young weavers of Kuale’u, practising the region’s distinct weaving technique while protecting them from human trafficking and forced migration.
Ultimately, the initiative’s goals are to record the country’s rich culture and to assist these communities, hoping to aid in the start of their development. “We acknowledge we have our role and the communities have their own role,” Gabriella says. “In the end, for the community to truly be empowered, to safeguard the culture, the fire must come from them working together.
“If you were to ask me three to four years ago if I had any hopes [with Sepatokimin], I would’ve said ‘I hope for independence in communities!’ But now that I think about it, is independence the main objective? Especially in trying times like these.”
Gabriella’s pre-existing knowledge and hands-on experience with Sepatokimin have driven her to develop new opinions, especially when it comes to long-term hopes for these communities. “For me, I think that hopefully these communities, after meeting us, can experience cooperation that makes a lasting impact,” she says, after a bit of thought.
“The passion must come from them, but to develop, say, weaving and other practices, cooperation with other people is also important. Don’t get caught up in ‘independence and being self-made'” Gabriella says, with finality.
“In this economy? I don’t think so!”
Featured image courtesy of Yohannes Arya Duta.