Batik Clothing: A Tradition Which May Be Fading Away

Sydney Morning Herald

Saturday March 15, 1997

Louise Williams

Ordinary Indonesians can no longer afford to buy their national fabric. LOUISE WILLIAMS, Herald correspondent, reports from Yogyakarta.

The old women laugh dismissively, their backs hunched over their fabric, their brown, lined hands deftly tracing in fine strokes of wax the motif of the batik. "No, of course not," they say, through broken-toothed smiles.

Their children and their grandchildren do not wear batik, Indonesia's famed traditional cloth. Nor have they passed down the skills of the intricate, time-consuming process they learned in the villages from their mothers more than half a century ago.

Working eight hours a day, they say, their tiny wooden stools pulled close together to chat, a single 3-metre piece of cloth takes one month to complete and commands a commensurate price.

Ordinary Indonesians can no longer afford to buy their national fabric, except for special occasions, they say. And many younger Indonesians, faced with a choice of cheap Western-style clothes, do not want to wear batik, anyway.

"We didn't go to school, so we learnt batik," says 66-year-old Alijah. "I wanted my children to be educated, not to do this. Five years ago we came here," she says of the large shed which serves as a factory on the outskirts of Yogyakarta.

"The children go to school, they don't like doing this, it is so difficult and they are too lazy," says 67-year-old Adiwiargo, her thinning grey hair swept back in a traditional bun, a sarong of earthen red and black wrapped tightly around her hips.

In the past the batik motifs were handed down through single families, the women tracing and drawing, the men dying and hanging. Patterns belonging to the Royal Family of the Sultanate of Yogyakarta were made only by the Royal craftsmen and women and were permitted to be worn by the Sultan's immediate family.

"Nowadays the patterns are all mixed up, some of them have been commercialised and modernised and the Royal motifs are worn by anyone who likes them, says Mr Zainal, a factory spokesman.

The cheapest piece of cloth here sells for $30 for 2 1/2 metres, in a country where a factory worker earns less than $20 a week. Silk now costs almost $150 for a metre-long piece. Traditional clothing remains important in Indonesia, particularly for weddings. Wealthier families own their own batik sarongs. But rentals are now big business.

For a fixed fee, a "cultural" expert from your own home region can dress up the whole family, bringing with her the correct batik motifs and accessories, the gaudy make-up and hair pieces, and the piles of mock gold jewellery to ensure the appearance of affluence.

Among high-ranking Government officials and military wives, batik remains a status symbol, a demonstration of their purchasing power.

In the street market of Yogyakarta, an old lady also laughs when asked if she wears batik. "Batik, no," she says, "this is just a print copied by a textile factory. I can't afford real batik."

Alongside her stand rows and rows of clothes stalls, shorts for $2 or less, pants for five, dresses for six or seven. Indonesia has become a major exporter of textiles and clothing produced for Western brand names, pushing down prices of Western-style clothes.

Mr Zainal is not, however, at all worried about business. A glass door divides the hot factory floor from the air-conditioned showroom, complete with lounges, coffee machine and iced drinks.

His customers arrive by the bus load, foreign tourists pawing over tablecloths with $250 dollar price tags, and the odd member of Indonesia's moneyed elite.

A vast new market, he says, is uniforms for hotel staff, to give the booming tourist industry an authentic touch.

"Indonesians want to wear jeans or Western clothes, Western tourists want to wear batik. It is as simple as that," he explains.