Ikat is such an ingrained part of East Sumbanese culture, primarily used for traditional ceremonies.There is only one area in Sumba that can actually weave these laborious, symbolic threads. These weavers play a crucial role in preserving the animist Marapu tradition.
Today, only about one-seventh of the island’s population adheres to Marapu. The local government is campaigning to keep this tradition alive before it disappears entirely, and the culture disintegrates.
Last month, we were fortunate enough to be invited to a Marapu funeral—the first I had experienced since collaborating with the local weaving communities.
My heart skipped a beat. With wide, goggled eyes and a sense of warmth spreading through my soul, I stopped, took a deep breath, and everything fell into place. This was no longer just a legend I had read about in articles and books or heard in community stories. I was living it, and the true essence and importance of Ikat came into being.That morning, we had spent time with Kornelius, our plant dye alchemy master. He lent us some Ikat sarongs, and off we went into another world. It was rural elegance at its finest. Every generation was dressed in their prized Ikat sarongs—women adorned with coral Mamuli necklaces, and men looking dapper in their Selendang, flashing big betel-nut-red smiles. I thought we would feel completely out of place, yet their gracious hospitality was overwhelming. They welcomed us to the front-row position and were so open to sharing their traditions.Women grieved for the last time over the mummified body, which was wrapped in grandmother’s natural Ikats. Meanwhile, men prepared the tomb, sealing it with threads, as buffalo and goats roamed nearby. At sunset, the exact time designated for the ceremony, they carried the body and sacrificed a horse so the soul could feed the ancestors and the spirit could rest in peace.
