02/06/2025

MONDAY | JUNE 2, 2025 7 Concerns over changes to traditional attire KUALA LUMPUR: The striking combination of black fabric with golden lace and sparkling beads continues to make traditional Sabah and Sarawak attire a favourite during the Kaamatan and Gawai festivals. What was once clothing mainly worn in the two Bornean states is now gaining popularity among young people, particularly those working in the federal capital. The trend was evident at last week’s Borneo Native Festival (BNF) at Pasar Seni, during which many visitors wore traditional Sabah and Sarawak outfits paired with modern styles. However, the growing variety of modern twists concerns Sarah Sanapan, 59, a traditional Sabah tailor who is dedicated to preserving the authenticity of her designs – especially Kadazan, Dusun, Murut and Rungus (KDMR) attire so that the heritage is not lost over time. “I worry that with the rapid pace of modernisation, traditional clothing is starting to lose its authenticity through attempts to modernise it,” she said. The Bisaya woman believes tailors like her have a cultural duty to guide customers towards preserving authentic traditional dress. She explained that Sabah’s traditional clothing varies by tribe and region, with the Sinipak Dusun Tindal shirt from Kota Belud being among the most intricate and time-consuming to complete. “A single Dusun Tindal shirt takes five days to make because of the precision required to sew the para-para (sleeves), siling (golden lace) and beadwork. The Kadazan Penampang shirt is simpler, I can complete five suits in one day.” Despite its complexity, the Dusun Tindal shirt is one of the best sellers, especially among Sabahans living in Peninsular Malaysia, foreign tourists and cultural performers. Prices for traditional clothing range from RM300 to RM2,000, depending on jewellery and accessories such as necklaces, bracelets and belts called himpogot or tangkong that complement the outfit. Sharing similar views on preserving tradition is 57-year-old Sarawakian tailor Catherine Eric, who introduced a collection from her state to Peninsular Malaysia through BNF. The Iban woman expressed concern that excessive modern influences risk diluting the traditional art and meaning embedded in each garment. Catherine receives many orders for traditional Bidayuh clothing, although the sewing process is meticulous due to the careful stitching required for the lis (golden lace). “Usually, it takes two to three days to finish a set of Bidayuh clothes. If there’s an urgent order, I try to complete it within a day,” she said. A pair of Bidayuh women’s garments without adornments costs between RM250 and RM450, rising to RM1,500 when worn with full accessories such as scarves, belts, bracelets and anklets. Both Sarah and Catherine see BNF as a cultural bridge that introduces the rich arts and traditions of Sabah and Sarawak to the diverse ethnic communities in Peninsular Malaysia and to international visitors. – Bernama

Positive transformation for Penan women

o Leveraging on traditional handicraft skills, group contributing to growth of rural communities and gender equality

“Now, people see us differently. We’re artisans. Some of us even run businesses.” Lolle now leads efforts across multiple villages, guiding other women and linking remote communities to new opportunities. “I used to be just a housewife while my husband farmed. But PWP changed that, not just for me, but for many others in our area.” She hopes the public would realise there are still many Penan families deep in the interior who need support. Another voice in this quiet uprising is Dora Paren, 44, from Long Kevok. Like Lolle, her introduction to weaving came early, learning from her mother, who supported the family using forest materials. “I watched her every day and slowly, she taught me. Now, I’m still weaving, and my work sells far beyond the village,” Paren said, adding that every sale is a source of pride. “When someone buys my work, it means they see and value my culture.” Once confined to nearby towns, Paren now travels to cities to sell her crafts. The income may be modest, but the sense of achievement is priceless. “I’m grateful. My efforts aren’t wasted.” She has also noticed a shift in perception. “People used to think we just stayed home and helped our husbands. Now, they see that we can earn, create and contribute. “Don’t judge us on the outside. We have knowledge, skills and a way of life worth preserving. Let’s protect that heritage together.”

Infrastructure is limited, environmental changes are biting, and the cost of living continues to rise. “Basic necessities are becoming harder to afford. Yet, the women remain the backbone of their communities – raising families, collecting food and now, driving change.” Penan women, once confined to household roles, are stepping into new territory. They are artisans, entrepreneurs, mentors and even local leaders. “One of our artisans who joined us a decade ago opened a sundry shop during the pandemic. “She’s still running it five years on. Her story is one of many that reflect the strength and determination of these women.” Education and tradition are no longer in conflict. In many households, children return from school and sit beside their mothers, learning the ancient craft of weaving by hand. “This is what community resilience looks like. Everyone plays a part. By uplifting the voices of indigenous women, we create a more inclusive and sustainable future.” Among those leading the charge is Wendy Lolle, 38, from Telang Usan. Raised on traditional knowledge, she began weaving as a child, learning from her mother how to gather and process rattan into mats, bags and household items. “Through weaving, I’ve supported my children’s schooling and helped cover our daily needs,” Lolle said, adding that before PWP, Penan women were often disregarded.

Ű BY KIRTINEE RAMESH newsdesk@thesundaily.com

PETALING JAYA: In the heart of rural Malaysia, a quiet revolution is taking root, led not by politicians or corporations, but by Penan women armed with tradition, resilience and rattan. The Penan Women Project (PWP), co founded by former graphic designer Ann Wong, began as a grassroots effort to support marginalised women through traditional weaving. Today, it has blossomed into a powerful movement for cultural preservation, gender equality and community-driven development. “When we started, the aim was to improve their livelihoods, and access to education and healthcare. But just as importantly, we wanted to protect their cultural identity while helping them take on more active roles in their communities,” Wong told theSun . Life in Penan villages remains tough.

Paren (in black) working with other members of her community at their ‘outdoor workshop’.

Move to achieve gender balance in Orang Asli leadership roles PETALING JAYA: Orang Asli women, once recognised as respected leaders, healers and decision-makers in their communities, have experienced a gradual reduction in their traditional roles over the past six decades, said Centre for Orang Asli Concerns (COAC) coordinator Colin Nicholas. “ Orang Asli women were never limited to household responsibilities. They played important roles in healing, childcare, food gathering and some served as shamans and community leaders,” he told theSun. He claimed this began to change following the formation of the Orang Asli Development Department, particularly when guidelines were introduced specifying that only men could serve as “tok batin” (village head), effectively excluding women from formal leadership positions. Nicholas observed that changes in the values and demographics of government officers working with Orang Asli communities began in the 1950s. He said cultural and religious considerations at the time often shaped how officers engaged with communities, resulting in governance structures that tended to centre on men. “Over time, this became the prevailing approach. Even today, although an Orang Asli woman now leads the department as its director general, the policy of appointing only men as village heads remains.” While some Orang Asli communities have long practised patriarchal structures, others were traditionally more balanced in terms of gender roles, with women enjoying significant standing. However, the introduction of centralised governance has contributed to broader disparities in areas such as inheritance rights, property ownership, political participation and wages. Despite these challenges, Nicholas noted positive developments. Increasingly, Orang Asli girls are staying in school longer than boys and showing stronger commitment to education, although overall educational outcomes still fall short of national averages. “We’re beginning to see more women becoming professionals such as doctors, lawyers and teachers. “The next step is encouraging them to return and take on leadership roles within their communities,” he said. COAC has been working to support this transition. The

organisation ensures that women make up at least half of the participants in its international meetings, regional workshops and leadership training programmes. It also helped set up the Orang Asli Women’s Association, which continues to advocate women’s representation and rights. “We’ll continue supporting their efforts to have their voices heard and rights recognised. “They already have the knowledge and determination. What is needed now is the opportunity and space to lead,” said Nicholas. – BY KIRTINEE RAMESH