The Last Pandan Leaves for Tolaki’s Boru in Konawe
Without any plastic-use campaign, the women in Konawe have been using plastic to decorate the traditional conical boru hats of the Tolaki tribe. The plastic-adorned boru reflects the locals’ way to adapt and survive.
By
SAIFUL RIJAL YUNUS
·6 minutes read
Sitting cross-legged on the cement floor of her home, Saminten, 55, diligently wove the dried pandan leaves. Using a needle, her fingers deftly wove and arranged the pandan leaves into boru hats.
The weaving’s rhythmical movement, with the sound of the needle and thread slicing and penetrating the dried pandan leaves, was unique. There was also the snore of her son Slamet, 31, who was sleeping on a grey kapok mattress. It was still morning on that Saturday (18/1/2020).
In front of Saminten, there were rolls of dried pandan leaves, sharpened bamboo stalks and piles of plastic waste, including used detergent packs, deodorizer packs and snack wraps. There was also a plastic container of used plastic sacks that had been torn apart to be used as threads.
“I just use whatever I can find nearby, to save money,” said that widow and mother of one, who lives in Baini village, Sampara, Konawe, Southeast Sulawesi, around 20 kilometers from Kendari. “Plastic is used on the boru’s edges and tip. Before, lanu [wild pandan] leaves were used but the trees have been replaced by oil palm nowadays.”
I just use whatever I can find nearby, to save money.
Saminten crafts boru, the traditional conical hats of the Tolaki, among the oldest tribes in the region. Despite hailing from Sidoarjo, East Java, she is skilled in making boru hats. Her sewing is neat and beautiful. She often combines different colors of plastics. Sometimes she uses just one color, such as red. Other times, she combines several colors but the result is far from kitschy.
Since moving to Baini village in 2001, she has been a housewife who takes care of her husband and son. Her neighbors first taught her to make boru hats, as Baini is known as a center of boru craft. Since then, weaving boru hats has been a source of additional income for her. At the time, Satar – her husband who worked as a rickshaw driver and died 15 years ago – relied on weaving boru hats as the main source of income.
Saminten sells small boru hats with a 30-centimeter diameter at Rp 10,000 (73 US cents). She sells 60-centimeter boru hats at Rp 25,000. From the earnings, she can buy rice and was able to pay for Slamet’s education until he graduated from high school. Saminten even has enough money to have a pet cat, which she named Manis (meaning “sweet”).
“We used to take pandan and lanu in the backyard. Nowadays, we need to go deep into the forest. Lanu is gone these days, which is why we have replaced it with plastics,” Saminten said.
Due to her old age, she can no longer walk far into the forest to search for pandan leaves. Consequently, she now buys her pandan leaves. One bunch of pandan leaves, which is Rp 10,000, is enough to create five boru hats. In one day, she can make three boru hats at most.
Today, things are different. “Today, I cannot make lots [of boru hats], as the supply of pandan leaves is lacking. However, Alhamdulillah [praise God], Slamet is now working at a mining company,” she said.
Lanu is gone these days, which is why we have replaced it with plastics
Just two houses away from Saminten’s, Hayati, 50, was manning the boru hat shop in front of her house. Around a dozen boru hats, most of which were Saminten’s creation, were hung inside the bamboo shop. All the boru hats were adorned with plastic decorations on their edges and tips.
The mother of seven said that locals began using plastics as decoration on boru hats 10 years ago. At the time, many were having difficulties finding leaves of lanu trees, an essential material for the hats. “Lanu leaves are different from wild pandan leaves. They are thicker, so are suitable to be used on the edges of boru hats. Some locals then began to try using plastics and it was good. Since then, more people began to use plastics,” Hayati said.
Nowadays, as palm oil companies are establishing plantations around her village, lanu leaves are becoming increasingly rare. Hayati is among those selling their land to the company. “I regret it. My land was cheap to purchase. It was only Rp 3 million for a hectare, if I remember it correctly. Finding pandan leaves is harder these days. You need to go deep into the forest and bring a meal,” she said.
Depleted and gone
Baini village is a center for boru craft in Konawe and in Southeast Sulawesi. The village with 178 families has always been famed for its boru production. All the boru makers are women. Baini’s boru hats are famed for their good quality and durability.
Hayati learnt to make boru hats from her great grandmother. “My great grandmother was buried with her boru, in line with her wish. Today, my girl does not even know how to weave boru.”
Baini village head Latif said that 50 percent of local women were boru makers who sold their products in Kolaka, Kendari and other places. Adding plastics is among the innovations the women implemented in their boru production.
The change is a response to changing environmental conditions, as wild pandan is not as common as it used to be. “We strive to preserve the boru, an identity of this village,” Latif said.
Consequently, locals are required to adapt and lose their identity
Development and the presence of large-scale industries change everything, not only in Baini or Konawe but also in all of Southeast Sulawesi. The total area of oil palm plantations in Southeast Sulawesi today is more than 50,000 hectares, almost as big as Jakarta.
Haluoleo University agriculture professor Yulius B. Pasolon said land conversion changed not only geographical contour but also local culture. The loss of endemic plants and various local crops has led to local communities losing part of their identity.
He said he remembered how sago used to have an important role in baby delivery, marriage ceremonies and funerals. Now, all of these traditions slowly fade away due to the plants’ reduced roles.
“Consequently, locals are required to adapt and lose their identity,” Yulius said.
Saminten and Hayati remain on the front line as the boru craft, the identity of the Tolaki tribe, is slowly eroded.