Pointy Shoes and Pith Helmets: Dress and Identity Construction in Ambon from 1850 To 1942 [1 ed.] 9789004260818, 9789067183390

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Pointy Shoes and Pith Helmets

Pointy Shoes and Pith Helmets Pointy Shoes and Pith Helmets DRESS AND IDENTITY CONSTRUCTION IN AMBON F R O M 18 5 0 T O 19 4 2 Marianne Hulsbosch BRILL • LEIDEN • BOSTON 2014

Dedication CATHA RINA JULIANA EV ERS-SMITH 1928, Menado, Indonesia – 1967 Eindhoven, The Netherlands This work is dedicated to my darling mother who deeply touched everyone with her exquisite beauty, sense of style and grace.

Catharina Juliana Evers-Smith

Acknowledgement

The most rewarding thing about researching this project was the opportunity to meet such variety of interesting people who without fail believed in the importance and value of this work. I am deeply indebted to members of the Moluccan community in the Netherlands, Belgium, Australia and Indonesia. Their enthusiastic support, generosity, and willingness to share their knowledge, their stories, and of course their food made this book possible. It is difficult to acknowledge all members of the Moluccan community who have contributed, however I would like to highlight several people in the knowledge that this list will be an inadequate way of saying thank you: Christien Hukom, Ada Lilipaly-de Voogt, Evie Moerdijk-Malawauw, Francien Muskitta, Ojang and Riet Pattikawa, Tante Diek and Oom Boetie Seluta, Jo Uneputty and Farida van Bommel-Pattisahusiwa. A more complete list of those who assisted appears at the back of this book. I sincerely hope that through this work I have paid tribute to their unique history and somehow have contributed to make them and their ancestors more visible. I remain grateful to many others who have helped me while I was conducting research in the Netherlands: Nanneke Wigard, librarian at the Moluccan Museum in Utrecht, Marianne van Vuuren, who facilitated the initial introduction into the Moluccan community in the Netherlands, and Leo Haks, who’s vast archives unearthed some interesting photographs. I would like to thank Wout and Margriet Evers-Verspaget, Frank and Dian Evers-Claes, and Els and Frans van Helden whose doors were always open and whose homes I could use as my own. I very much appreciate the assistance of the team at KITLV and BRILL Publishers Leiden for their generous editorial comments, as well as the team at Hulsbosch Communication by Design Sydney, for helping me to pull the whole layout together.

Adrian Vickers and Diana Wood Conroy assisted in the research and writing of this book. I admire their courage to stick with me and remain immensely grateful for their unfailing trust in my ability to critically analyse, evaluate, and verbalize my ideas and concepts. They have both challenged me in various ways and guided my writing beyond a level I though I was capable of. This process remains equally the most difficult and the most rewarding experience of this journey. To both of you my heartfelt thanks. Last but not least my thanks go to Hans, and Jaid, Kaisey, Thys and Jax, and Kyle, Sarah, Suri and Hunter: your encouragement, devotion, and support allowed me the space to grow, the strength to complete this project; but above all you showed me the true meaning of love. As always, you have my gratitude, admiration, and love.

Cover: Pattinaja siblings, Ambon, 1918 Private collection Mrs Ada Lilipaly – de Voogt

The realization of this publication was made possible by the support of KITLV (Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian and Caribbean Studies). Library of Congress Control Number: 2013921896

ISBN ISBN

978-90-6718-339-0 (hardback) 978-90-04-26081-8 (e-book)

Copyright 2014 by Marianne Hulsbosch/Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Global Oriental, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers and Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Contents

Prologue

1

Chapter 1

17

A Short History

Chapter 2

35

Disciplined Dress

Chapter 3

69

Dominating Dress

Chapter 4

101

Mirroring Dress

Chapter 5

129

Communicative Dress

Epilogue

173

Chapter References

189

Image References

199

Glossary

217

Interview Register

227

Bibliography

231

Prologue

PROLOGUE

‘‘Dress provides a window through which we might look into a culture’.’ Linda Arthur, 1999

PROLOGUE

A

dornments and the manipulation of clothing not only decorate the body but project messages to society by shaping and defining personal and collective identities. .

A

The act of dressing and adorning involves putting on layers of clothing, accessories and make-up, manipulating hairstyles and so on; the items used in dressing and adorning include of example items of clothing, shoes, hats, jewellery, wigs, skin, and hair dyes, as well as tattoos, scarification, and body piercing, whilst modification of body shape and movement to accommodate and/or accentuate the items or the person’s intent includes medical procedures such as medication or surgery to change body shape, an acquired change of movement or posture, diets and exercise routines, and any other methods used to change original physical or biological appearance (Eicher, Evenson, and Lutz 2000:4).

B

For a more comprehensive investigation into the development of Frank’s ‘Typology of Body Use in Action’ model (1991) and the way this can be used in analysing sartorial expression as a means of defi ning identity, see Hulsbosch (2006) ‘Fashionable Studies: A Method for Analysing Dress and Adornment’, Journal of the Home Economics Institute of Australia 13(3), 2-9.

Dress systems are not passive outcomes representing a predetermined individual; they are active ingredients that embrace change and generate newness because they are constantly used to negotiate, structure, and restructure the visual self. Dressing is not only an activity of embellishing the surface1 —far from it. Dressing shapes the body and suggests styles of movement, gestures, inclinations, and dispositions, producing a holistic identity that characterizes an individual in space and time. A

Dress and identity construction In order to investigate how dress systems of the people who lived on the island of Ambon during the last century of Dutch colonial rule have developed, why and how they were used, and to what effect, a specific conceptual framework is used, one which considers dress as a practical, visual outcome that is mediated by embodied experiences. B Throughout the book the term ‘dress’ refers to the product as well as the act of dressing and adorning; ‘dress system’ includes the combination of interrelated items of dress that form a collective entity. Also, there is a clear distinction between ‘dress’ and ‘fashion’. Fashion is a historically and geographically defi ned system of dress, found in societies where upward mobility is possible, 2 while fashion has its own particular relations of production and consumption, and is characterized by a logic of regular and systemic change.3 Fashion therefore represents a continual change in dress to enable the visual representation of social ideals. The crucial elements in fashion are continuing change and acceptance,4 making fashion predicated on innovation and a relentless seeking of what is new and popular.

2

0.02 Alifuru man, Buria, West Ceram, 1938

PROLOGUE

People use various items of dress and adornment to portray a specific identity.

0.03

Alifuru woman, Waraloin, Ceram, 1938

Throughout this book the term ‘fashion’ is considered within the context of regular and systemic change, regardless of whether it applies to western dress or ethnic Ambonese dress and irrespective of its place and time. Dressing means being engaged in the complex processes of self and group determination through visual expression using various items of dress and adornment as well as body modifications and deportment. These processes relate to the acquisition and portrayal of identity. These identities, either associating with or questioning the collective, are fleeting and fragmented units of the matrix that makes up the ethnic self. Individual identity is not only confi ned to the body and its myriad of covers but extends to incorporate social and collective identities made up of actions, feelings, movements and thoughts, representative of commonly held cultural values and norms. Extending physical boundaries and embracing these social attributes make up what is in this book considered ‘identity’. As it interfaces between the self and society, identity is socialized. Dress then, as a visual entity of the self, is simultaneously a socialized and socializing phenomenon that functions as an intermediary between the self and the body and between the self and society. Clothing becomes part of creating identities and is used to signify membership or dissociation. People assume many different identities in the course of their life and indeed in the course of their day. Dress grafts these identities on bodies; physical expression, spirituality, character, and body maintenance regimes all come together to present unified images. Often these identities fuse into a composite that is a culturally legitimate image, where each separate identity becomes an essential part of a whole. Living and working within a colonial context, distinct identities emerged in the central Moluccas, which were appropriate solutions in their time and space. Construction of these identities relied on various factors such as the political disposition of the individual, religious affi liation, birthright, recognition and desire for cultural association, economic potential, and so on. What made their position unique was the fact that engagement in these identities developed bizarre

3

PROLOGUE

schizophrenic situations where, in some cases, the Ambonese visually simulated being Ambonese according to a Dutch construct, while concurrently replicating western characteristics in a created western environment in Ambon. At the same time Europeans visually simulated being ‘ethnic’ according to their own construct, maintaining western characteristics in a created western context located in an ethnic Ambonese environment. Strict social control within and between all ethnic societies meant that people were reigned into a predetermined pattern of expectation from which there was little chance of escape.5

Dress in a colonial Ambonese context This book takes account of the multiple meanings that are constructed when scrutinizing visual appearances, by utilizing oral and less-traditional historical sources such as private photographs, material objects, personal accounts (diaries, letters, etc), and verbal information handed down through generations. These personal histories not only focus on material objects and their images, but they are inclusive of the embodied experiences these objects create. In other words, these accounts address questions such as, how did dress feel and sit on the body, and were dress items changed as a result of this experience? This book also includes analyses of physical changes dress brought to the body: how did particular items of dress influence and change the manner in which the body was experienced? The method is constructed through participant observation to allow dress defi nition through the wearer. In the organization of this methodology, the whole transcends the sum of the parts, for each component either reinforces or mitigates the effect of all others with which it is combined. In the case of Ambonese clothing worn during Dutch colonial times, there is precious little description; thus analysis is mostly derived from visual representation and memory confi rmed in interviews with members of the Ambonese community living in the Netherlands and Jakarta. Ambonese identity under colonial rule was manifested through a pastiche of visual images made up of tangible items such as clothing and accessories, as well as unique personal embodiment and behavioural patterns such as body maintenance and physical display. 4

The Alifuru are the local indigenous people whose society forms the basis of Ambonese culture.

0.04 Alifuru man, Ahiolo, West Ceram, 1938

PROLOGUE

This appearance is incomplete and therefore does not fully represent the colonial Ambonese communities unless it includes inherent cultural beliefs and values, and considers people’s inner and outer image within a historical/political and socioeconomic context. Therefore this book does not only depend on visual images but also on the visuality of being, of meaning created and projected in everyday life, because identity includes feelings, actions, and thought. This book considers day-to-day reality, not simply the unreality of cultural identity as projected at festivities and special occasions such as weddings. Images and identity portrayed during those circumstances are representations of an imagined, created, wanted reality, which in effect is a false reality. These are the realities of the mind, a reality of a dream, designed to enhance one’s perceived status and ethnicity, but they often bear little resemblance to one’s real status and identity. They also indicate the duality of identity and the relationship of realities. Images portrayed at cultural festivities create a different authenticity, as the identities visually represented at such festivals indicate an exterior reality. This duality reflects an inner reality at odds with one’s own physical surroundings. Both ‘realities’ are examined as they reinforce one another, because it is at this point that in Ambon the body politic and identity of the self converge in the construction of dress. Looking at dress and adornment for cues to defi ne cultural identity, a method of interpretive analysis allows for a cross-cultural account of the Ambonese world and reflects on its epistemological grounding. It places active negotiation of meaning at the centre of the analysis in the sense of symbolic anthropology in the way Clifford Geertz (1973) anticipated. 6 In addition, the examination of dress and adornment in Ambon during Dutch colonial times includes the role the body plays in the construction and presentation of the social self.

The conceptual framework Arthur Frank’s ‘Typology of Body Use in Action’ model7 is used to examine integrated, situated dress practices in order to defi ne identity. Although originally developed to examine various body types, Frank’s model allows for a comprehensive analysis of Ambonese dress practice.

The development of Frank’s model The starting point of Frank’s conceptual framework is the body itself. He considers the body as ‘active in and reactive to society, instead of the body being constrained by and therefore indicative of society.’8 Frank recognizes that a body’s response is reciprocal and might ultimately be described as recursive: the body responds to society and society responds to the body. Following anthropologist Margaret Mead,9 Frank proposes four substantive aspects (dimensions) that a body encounters when it responds to, or ‘acts’ in a certain situation. These four dimensions—control, desire, other-relatedness, and selfrelatedness—are based on the body itself following a phenomenological orientation, making his an action typology. Frank’s typology suggests active initiative and engagement with society, thus the fundamental issue of his typology is agency. His proposed dimensions are based on the relationship of the body to an object, rather than the relationship of society with the body.

0.05 Alifuru children, Ceram, 1938

5

PROLOGUE

The body’s response to these four dimensions ascertains how it is ultimately experienced and deployed, resulting in a ‘typical style of body usage.’ Frank proposes that the action of a disciplined body is regimentation, the action mode of a dominating body is force, consumption is the action of the mirroring body, and the action of the communicative body is recognition. His four-cell typology (Diagram 1) contains these body types, the activity typically associated with that particular body type, and the dimensions that the body encounters.

Diagram 1. Typology of Body Use in Action (Frank 1991)

Control

Predictable

Lacking

Disciplined (Regimentation)

Frank’s model in action

Contingent

Dominating (Force)

Desire

Dissociated

Self-relatedness

Producing

Mirroring (Consumption)

Communicative (Recognition)

Associated

For example, the action of a disciplined body is regimentation, because it includes activities and specific use of the body, as well as its response to and relations with the individual or material world, cultural environment, and social forces. This mode of action is persuaded by the need to respond to particular circumstances. This disciplined body reacts in a certain way to the prescribed dimensions of control, desire, other-relatedness and self-relatedness. In other words, within each dimension the body displays a particular manner. The sum of these behaviours creates a specific body typology, which in turn is demonstrated through a specific mode of action. Similarly, these relationships are examined with dominating, mirroring and communicative bodies.

Using Frank’s model for analysing Ambonese dress Monadic

Dyadic

Other-relatedness

6

If dress indeed provides ‘a window through which we might look into a culture,’10 then dress might be examined using Frank’s typology according to its associated action in response to dimensions of control, desire, other-relatedness, and self-relatedness. A window allows a viewer not only to look in, but also to look out; similarly, dress may reflect societal norms and expectations as it offers insight to the individual. And in turn, society responds to the individual’s sartorial choices and presentation. Clothing is a material phenomenon that not only frames corporeal dimensions, but also acts as a disciplinary tool while it displays the adorned or augmented body.

PROLOGUE

Dress simultaneously reveals and conceals parts of the body; dress also simultaneously reveals and conceals identity.11 Likewise, dress reveals society, because ‘dress visually attests to the salient ideas, concepts and categories fundamental to that culture.’12 In this manner, dress expresses historical, ethnic, and cultural identity, and possesses the ability to (re)shape society. Bourdieu (1984) considers the body as an unfi nished entity that develops in conjunction with various social forces, and in a similar vein Frank insists that ‘a body [is] in the process of creating itself.’13 If the body is a fluid entity, a catalyst in the shaping of society, then dress, grafted on that body, should be viewed in a similar light: as unfi nished, in the process of becoming, inventing. Thus Frank’s model is equally applicable to dress. The evolution of dress breaks through defi ned cultural boundaries, creating new views and attitudes towards the body and in turn reshaping societal values. So dress is not seen, according Veblen (1954 [1899]) and Simmel (1904), as an emulation process responding to society, but rather as an active, constant innovation that helps shape society. To arrive at a truly inclusive model in order to analyse Ambonese dress, Frank’s typology is used throughout this book as an analytical framework, because it places people’s visual identity central in the matrix of embodiment in action. Embodiment in dress implies dressing as a response to physical consciousness, an awareness of one’s own physicality within the context of time and place. An acknowledgement of history, recognition of the present and an anticipation of the future inform the context of time. Sociocultural, economic, political, and environmental forces mediate the context of place. These institutions and discourses are fluctuating constantly and dress exemplifies the outcome of strategic consciousness. Embodiment of the dimensions of desire, control, other-relatedness and self-relatedness characterize dress outcomes.

0.06 Alifuru man, Seti, Central Ceram, 1938

7

PROLOGUE

Time

Lacking

Control

Predictable

Contingent

Disciplined (Regimentation)

Dominating (Force)

Dissociated

Desire

Self-relatedness

Producing

Mirroring (Consumption)

Communicative (Recognition)

Monadic

Dyadic

Other-relatedness

Associated

Place Diagram 2. Dress Typology

8

PROLOGUE

Frank’s model assists in analysing the dimensions of dress consciousness during the last century of the Dutch colonial period in the central Ambonese islands, in order to evaluate its typical styles of deployment in relation to outward identity construction.

A contextualized typology for analysing dress and adornment In the analysis of dress systems, the selection and implementation of a typology initially designed to investigate body usage fi nds resonance for compelling reasons. Frank’s ‘Typology of Body Use in Action’ model provides an analytical tool as a basis of sociological enquiry into the use of the body. Using a contextualized version of this typology to analyse dress acknowledges clothing and adornment as an extension of the body, and facilitates the consideration of clothing as a ‘social and cultural skin.’14 Dress can be viewed as a physically meaningful practice, an interactive social construction that dynamically informs society, rather than analysing dress as socially constituted and situated objects that resulted as a response to society. If dress, like the body, is viewed as an outcome of individual practice mediated by society, then Frank’s typology can be modified as suggested and adopted as a suitable model.

0.07 Alifuru woman, Ahiolo, Ceram, 1938

9

PROLOGUE

The four dimensions of the proposed model for analysing dress Control The dimension of control raises issues of predictability. How conventional and conformist is a dress style towards the self, or how does it conform to society’s expectations? Predictability of dress style depends on the ability to dissociate the self from society: ~ Predictable dress form is simultaneously a medium and outcome of personal regimentation. Faithful adherence to society’s expectation of dress rules and regulations results in acceptable, commonly used ensembles. In other words, the more strictly dress development is controlled (either by oneself or external constraints) the more prescribed and static the style is. There is no choice in dress design, as a stern adherence to personal regime sees the acceptance of forecast dress style, hence a lack of personal agency. ~ If dress development and dress style are contingent on the belief that personal identity is under threat (if we all dress similarly we ‘lose’ our individuality or identity in the crowd) the style will change. Development or change of dress styles indicates an acceptance of contingency. Exploration of identity control becomes an investigation into desire: how much does one want to change one’s appearance? An organization or society that regiments the individual person’s wish to change disciplines the action of identity construction to ensure that one’s identity conforms to set (or acceptable) standards (of course organizational rules and regulations, as well as society’s standards can encourage individual transgression or deviation).

0.08 Alifuru man, Melilia, Ceram, 1938

10

PROLOGUE

Desire ~ A person who conforms to society’s acceptable standards produces a suitable identity and corresponding maintenance regime. Ongoing awareness to dress according to the latest styles keeps acute the sense of wanting to maintain one’s identity. An awareness of lacking the need to be different from the norm, produces the necessity to address its deficiencies—hence the desire to appear the same as others (making dress constituted on the dimension of desire in fact a paradox). Ongoing desire to remain part of society and not be considered as an outsider betrays fear of contingency, allowing for constant seeking of fulfilment. Completion can never be achieved; thus lack (the deficiency of personal intent) remains conscious in order to produce and defi ne the various levels of desire. When lack is realized it reveals construction of material objects, in itself signalling internal desires. These objects do not signify fulfilment; rather they indicate endless simulation of completion, because the moment satisfaction is achieved contingency is confi rmed.15 Therefore these objects replicate conclusion; they do not fi nally address contingency, allowing desire to remain understood and in doing so catching lack and desire in a perpetual swirl of justification. Each corroborates the existence of the other: desire is a product of lack as it recursively elaborates the promise of contingency, while at the same time it signifies its deficiencies. The act of dressing according to the latest fashions then fulfi ls the desire to conform to society, situating the discourse of dress around the perpetual struggle between lack of personal intent and desire to remain the same. ~ Erasing social boundaries and visualizing this through dress and adornment defi nes the desire to be different from the norm. Blurring of cultural acceptable standards promotes individuality and enhances creative productivity, which, in turn, results in a dress discourse that validates the perpetual critical relationship between the individual and the rest of society.

Other-relatedness Dress is either prescribed, or demonstrated through personal agency. What needs to be considered is whether the image portrayed through dress is essentially controlled and directed towards self or towards others. ~ If the image portrayed is controlled by and directed towards others, the garment and intent are considered ‘dyadic’ (two parts)—for instance, a uniform is a medium that associates the self with others who are dressed identically. ~ If the image is constructed voluntarily with the express desire to freely display personal ethnicity and cultural beliefs, the resulting dress system is monadic (single) because it is directed towards the self for the self. Clothing individuates the self by physically and metaphorically framing the body while simultaneously connecting (through similarity of dress) and separating the self (through layers of fabric creating a physical boundary) from the collective.

Self-relatedness ‘Dress operates between individuals as an intersubjective experience as well as a subjective one.’16 Self-relatedness allows for dissociation from the self to generate dress systems that do not take into account embodied (intersubjective) experiences. For example: ~ Business sophistication, uniformity or prescribed dress in the context of religion dissociates the wearer from the self and associates dress with the ‘other’ (business, the military, religion, etc); in these cases dress deindividualizes. ~ Dress that is associated with the self is inclusive of a constant dialogue between the body and the self. Rather than using dress as objects that relate to the external world (uniforms), dress that relates to the self (subjective), involves a conscious understanding of accumulated social and cultural knowledge, personal agency and an awareness of time and place, and how this relates to one’s physicality. This facilitates dress to act as an individualizing tool.

11

PROLOGUE

Dress is never free from the variety of situations that set parameters, and constrain development or choice. As a result, the four dimensions of dress are never clear-cut; dress practice can only be considered in relation to specific ensembles within the context of space and time. It is therefore possible for one individual to assume various identities during the course of one day. For instance, regular daywear at home, uniformed dress at work, specific dress at religious practice and festive gear for that evening’s special celebration all exude a specific identity as each particular dress style is considered within the framework of the four dimensions that result in disciplined, dominating, mirroring or communicative methods of usage.17

Using the framework to analyse Ambonese dress systems Historical, anthropological, and socio-economic investigations have largely failed to examine concepts of dress, adornment, and the fashion maintenance practices of people in the central Moluccas as visual outcomes, informed by time and place and mediated through embodied experiences. Appreciating how technical and practical understanding of dress and dressing as a situated bodily activity represents and informs society is primarily an exploration into ‘lack’ (deficiency of personal intent). Consciousness of ‘lack’ was the most consistent feature of the impetus of dress development and display in colonial society in Ambon. What was perceived as lacking was distinct visual defi nition of social position and religious, political affi nity and cultural position. Awareness of the threat of visual indifference amongst people living in the central Moluccan islands during Dutch colonial times, facilitated perpetual lack and results in regimentation and control of desire that addressed this deficiency. This desire was articulated through a series of body maintenance regimes, which in turn assisted depiction of specific identities commensurate with individual and collective cultural experience. 0.09 Alifuru woman, Waraloin, West Ceram, 1938

12

PROLOGUE

Lack is defi ned by the desire to complete what is deemed deficient. In Ambon, erasure of ethnic boundaries proposed by dress defi ned lack. Blurring these boundaries, or threat of contingency of visual ethnic presence experienced by both the Ambonese as well as the Europeans promoted creative productivity resulting in a dress discourse that validated the perpetual relationship between the colonized and the colonizer. Dress worn in the colonial Ambonese context explored lack and creatively narrated desire; it resulted in a positive power that inspired, solved problems, and enabled wearers to display their identity in a unique manner. Dress was a recitation of lack, as the awareness of lacking presence was solved through minute attention to the external self. This recognition acted as the principle means by which domination of the self and others was practised and rationalized. The elusive image of achieving higher status perpetually fed the bottomless quarry of desire. Continuous aspiration to improve identity and the need for its projection made lack acute. Subordination to this desire justified lack, and in doing so simultaneously produced it, making lack constituted within it. Thus, addressing lack drove the desire for defi nition of the ethnic self and produced a plethora of identities that were materialized through dress, physical behaviour, attitude, and association. The desire to make lack visible created various identities which were displayed in the colonial Ambonese context. Exploration of these identities became explorations of what was desired. Longing for what was not anymore (the past, deficiency) became a constant in locating and inscribing what was (the present, abundance) in the construction of what could be (the future, selection). Within the context of dress as worn in Ambon during colonial times, desire was not only a disciplining frame but also a subversive and defi ning element in the creation of potential. Dress acted as a conduit between personal desires and public expectation, and the effects were recursive. Continuous action between interrelated arrangements of identity served to emphasize the ongoing complementary interaction between the constructed inner self and the assembled outer self.

During colonial times these tensions were played out in a macro sense, as ongoing visual tension between western colonial, Ambonese and Indies identities produced creative activity and meaning that highlighted the rhythms through which identities were manifested, the development of one was interdependent on the others. Structuring material identity informed by design, textile science and technology framed dress development and dress systems and practice became a defi ning series of inextricable interlocking units within the network and geography of colonial Ambonese culture. Specific factors that came to characterize defi ning dress systems worn in the central Ambonese islands during colonial rule consisted of a hybrid of creative western components with local indigenous and newly inspired elements, framed within the context of lack and desire. Creative expression through dress and adornment made the body a site where the spectacle of eternal reciprocity of desire and lack was staged. Throughout the Ambonese colonial time various identities found prominence, and in this book they are considered as a whole; each identity based its momentum on the other, and the continuation of each identity was contingent on the maintenance of others. In this book dress is considered within the lexicon of all identities present at any given time. In order to analyse dress styles in the colonial Ambonese context, this book takes a two-pronged approach, considering dress from the following interrelated perspectives: ~ Dress development in relationship to the self and others in one’s own ethnic community. Thus dress is considered within distinct cultural groups and individual and group dress styles and respective developments are analysed within their own cultural contexts. ~ The relationship of dress styles to other communities in a colonial context. Thus individual and group dress styles and development are also considered in relation to styles and development as they eventuated within other ethnic communities and other cultures that had direct or indirect association with, or impact on, Ambonese colonial society.

13

PROLOGUE

In particular the relationship of dress development and the interaction and creative tensions between indigenous and western styles are examined. Of central concern is the contingency of dress development in a colonial Ambonese context, dependent on varying degrees of embodied and societal/cultural control within the context of time and space, with an emphasis on the last hundred years of Dutch colonial times. Dress ensembles discussed throughout this book are not selected on the basis of their visual alignment to the nomenclature of each ideal type. Instead, in the following interconnected chapters dress systems are thematically arranged in accordance with the four dimensions of dress experience. Critical examination will reveal those dress ensembles that are considered ideal/typical examples of disciplined, dominating, mirroring, or communicative dress, because each ensemble shares the same attributes of usage as its respective medium.

Dress acted as a conduit between personal desires and public expectation..

0.10 Alifuru man, Waraloin, Ceram, 1938

14

PROLOGUE

15

Ambonese society under colonial rule

CHAPTER ONE AMBONESE SOCIETY UNDER COLONIAL RULE

‘‘Their Garb was the most ridiculous that can be express’d’’. Domingo Navarrete, 1658

CHAPTER ONE

E

1.02

1.03

uropeans first began to arrive in the eastern islands of the Indonesian archipelago in the early sixteenth century, and others have followed in their footsteps ever since. They all came for different reasons: some as government officials, some seeking fame and fortune, some fleeing problems in their home country, and some attracted to the spectacular sights and natural wonders. The travellers wrote enthusiastically about the trading opportunities in spices and were mesmerized by the tropical flowers and exotic animals as well as the abundance of bird life. Some wrote about interesting meetings with indigenous people whilst others studiously avoided mentioning them. Only a few commented on the way the local people in the eastern islands of Indonesia presented themselves and how they dressed. George Eberhard Rumphius (16281702) and François Valentijn (1666-1727) mentioned bark cloth strips, string bags, personal trinkets, and feathered headpieces, but it was not until 1875 that District Officer Baron van Hoëvell made an inventory of local dress items and gave an explanation of the use of these items in its particular context. In 1962 Cooley provided an in-depth description of textile exchange during marriage deliberations and celebrations in these islands during the 1950s. Although the majority of travellers, government officials and scholars have presented little description of dress of the indigenous people who inhabited the eastern islands in the Indonesian Archipelago, almost all remarked on the fact that the clothing they observed was black.1 So who were these people? Why did they dress in black and why was their dress considered the most ‘ridiculous that can be express’d’?

1.04 1.02 Alifuru woman, Ceram, 1880 1.03 Georg Everhard Rumphius, 1628-1702 1.04 Alifuru man, West Ceram, 1880

18

AMBONESE SOCIETY UNDER COLONIAL RULE

A short history The central Moluccan isles are most commonly known as the fabled ‘Spice Islands.’2 At the height of Dutch colonial power, the capital Ambon was known as ‘The Queen of the East.’3 This nomenclature is an indication of the historical importance of this region. It is also an indication of the significance of the cloves, nutmeg, and mace that gave this region its epithet. A During early western colonial rule, clovesB became the most valuable spice grown in the Moluccas. Until western intrusion in the sixteenth century, the whole of the world’s clove production came from the tiny northern Moluccan islands of Ternate, Tidore, Moti, Makian, and Bacan.4 Before the use of refrigeration, cloves were essential ingredients in the preservation of food. It was therefore a most important commodity for those intrepid European adventurers and early circumnavigators who, during early modern history, spent many months at sea. No access to fresh food and water meant that many perished during these long voyages. In the search for a sea route to Asia, the use of salt, pepper and cloves was absolutely vital in preserving on-board provisions; thus it became an essential component in the quest for discovering distant lands.

1.07 1.06

1.05

1.05 1.06 1.07 1.08

Nutmeg and mace Cloves Map Pierre Descaliers, 1550 Map Diogo Homem, 1558

1.08

A

See Andaya (1993) ‘The World of Maluku’ for a most informative historical analysis of the early modern period of the Moluccan islands, with special emphasis on the relationship and interaction between Europeans and Moluccans.

B

The clove is a dried flower bud taken from the highly aromatic tropical evergreen tree called Eugenia aromatica. This tree, which can grow to heights of up to 30 feet, flourishes in warm, humid climates and can yield several kilograms of cloves per year (Hudson 1971:15-23). Whole cloves are popular in cooking meats, pickling fruit and making syrups, while ground cloves are used for baking, in perfumes, and for medicinal purposes, particularly for the relief of toothaches (Castleman 1991:115). The name clove derives from Latin clavus or ‘nail’ because the shape resembles a nail. The word made its way to English via Old French clou.

19

CHAPTER ONE

Europeans did not experience cloves until about the fourth century, when the spice arrived on the western continent via Arab traders as a luxury item. For most of the Middle Ages, Arab traders bought spices such as cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg directly from the native source or from Chinese and Japanese merchants.C In Europe fantastic tales and legends were woven around the spice trade, and its merchants did their utmost to keep places of origin and trading routes secret.5 The Moluccan region is situated at the crossroads of two major ancient trading routes: east-west from Sumatra to the Banda islands and northsouth from the Philippines to Timor. This unique geographical location brought it in early contact with Malay, Javanese, Arab, and Chinese traders. Vast forests of clove trees flourished on the northern Moluccan islands of Ternate and Tidore, the principal clove-growing centres in the northern part of the Moluccas, and these forests were encouraged in their abundance by a native custom of planting a clove tree whenever a child was born. 6 Trade between the northern sultanates of Ternate and Tidore with China goes back at least 2,500 yearsD with cloves bartered for silk and other goods. Their rulers controlled the initial clove trade and Arab and Bugis traders from Sulawesi continued to transport the spices until the late fi fteenth century when the Portuguese fi nally broke their monopoly on the spice trade. They had arrived in the Indonesian archipelago in 1511 after their conquest of the Islamic kingdom of Malacca on the Malay Peninsula.7 Following Vasco da Gama’s voyage around Africa to India in 1497, Portugal realized and quickly exploited the commercial opportunities offered by these new lands, and soon they controlled most of the important sources of spices in India. The Portuguese were keen to enter into treaties with the local sultans who controlled the spice trade. Once they found their way to the island of Ternate, the Portuguese signed a treaty with the Sultan of Ternate and began establishing warehouses for the collection and storage of cloves to be shipped back to Europe.

Portuguese traders Initially the Portuguese would call in at the port of Ambon en route to and from Banda to take in fresh water and provisions. For this purpose the Portuguese set up a permanent provisioning centre in 1513 on the north coast of Hitu situated on the eastern peninsula of Ambon Island. However by 1523 friction arose between the Islamic Hituese and the Catholic Portuguese. The Portuguese found themselves expelled so they set up a small entrepôt on the Leitimor peninsula, which gave their incoming ships a more sheltered anchorage. It was here they built a fort on the site that has since become known as Kota Ambon (Ambon Town).8 Once the Portuguese got a foothold in the central Moluccas, they managed to maintain a complete monopoly of the clove trade for the next 100 years. They exercised as much power as possible and were also instrumental in spreading Christianity, especially in the southern peninsula of Ambon.9 Due to the influx of Arab, Chinese, Indian and local (especially Javanese) traders, a variety of dress styles could be seen to be worn in the trading ports on Ternate and Tidore. Early Portuguese documents make some reference to dress.10 Different ethnic groups retained their indigenous dress, and dress styles were not ‘borrowed’ from other groups as ethnic groups usually lived together in camps and retained their own particular cultural traits.E Dress was clearly informed by ethnic background or Islamic religion.

1.09

1.09 Vasco da Gama, 1469-1524

20

AMBONESE SOCIETY UNDER COLONIAL RULE

1.10 C

The Arabs transported the spices by land or sea to Alexandria, from which they were shipped to European countries. Spices could command a very high price in Europe due not only to the long and costly way they travelled to reach Europe, but also because of their culinary value in the preservation and fl avouring of food. In fact, spices were so precious in Europe that they were often used as currency; for example, a pound of cinnamon could be used to purchase three sheep (Darby, Ghalioungui, and Grivetti 1977:792).

D

The earliest written mention of cloves is in writings from the Han dynasty in China (207 BC to AD 220). Officers of the court were made to hold cloves in their mouth when talking to the emperor, apparently to ensure the sweetness and acceptability of their breath. Cloves were also believed to be an aphrodisiac (Hudson 1971:22-23). Today eugenol, extracted from clove oil, is used in toothpastes and mouthwash.

E

The Chinese community in Indonesia is predominantly Hokkaian, and the fi rst settlers arrived in the early sixteenth century. They were not allowed to own land and as a result they focused on trade and fi nances. From 1740 they were not allowed to live outside specially designated Chinese wards and this measure was not abolished until 1918. Because of this isolation from local communities, they managed to retain their Chinese identity and keep sociocultural values intact (van Baardewijk 1998:83).

The Portuguese must have been a spectacular sight, as their dress styles would have been unlike one had ever seen before in these parts of the archipelago. The arrival of the Portuguese and their religion heralded a different attitude in the Moluccas towards the body and its dress. The demise of feudal systems in Europe and the rise of a middle class whose wealth stemmed from international trade, was reflected in a dramatic change in dress style during the fourteenth and fifteenth century. European dress during these centuries saw a proliferation of many more elaborate and different styles than had ever before. It was during this period in history that for the fi rst time change in dress was aligned to social mobility.11 Dress became more closely fitted to the body for both men and women and during the late fifteenth century hats, shoes, and garments took on extravagant and rapidly changing shapes, especially among the nobility.12 When the Portuguese arrived in the central Moluccas they were dressed according to the latest Iberian fashion in shirt, doublet, cloak, upperhose and nederhose in understated shades of blacks and brown. Although the colours show restraint, the sumptuous fabrics were lavishly decorated with precious stones. Seemingly denying the body through colour and shape, faces were defi ned by crisp white ruffs around the necks and stuffed upper hose that drew attention to the torso and accentuated the hips, thus simultaneously hiding and displaying male sexuality. It is men’s attitude to their own clothing that is important within the early context of western influence in Moluccan dress history, as it was these western men who arrived and settled in the central Moluccan islands and through the colonization process enforced dress rules in the form of sumptuary laws during the seventeenth and eighteenth century.13

1.10 Ambon Bay, 1919 1.11 16th C Portuguese Carrack

1.11

21

CHAPTER ONE

It was an important duty for the Portuguese to propagate Christianity, and one essential element in fighting the spread of Islam was to convert the local population. F The influence of Portuguese Jesuit missionaries and subsequent Dutch Calvinist Protestants had lasting effects on the social and cultural development of Ambonese society. Christianization also had lasting consequences for local dress development as, together with Christian values of that time, the Europeans brought with them their Judaeo-Christian attitudes towards the body.

Dutch traders; the Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie (VOC) Dutch seafarers were not to be outdone by the conquests and economic successes of the Portuguese, so they also started their quest for Indonesian spices. In 1595 the fi rst Dutch expedition to the East led by Cornelis Houtman reached Banten, an important trading port on the western tip of Java.14 From here the Dutch set out systematically to conquer the islands in the Indonesian archipelago with the express goal of securing pepper and other spices. Between 1595 and 1601 some 65 ships sailed east independently and brought back a large quantity of spices and textiles. However, the trade was totally uncoordinated; each ‘company’ operated in competition to one another and thus prices and revenue dropped sharply. In 1601 Johan van Oldenbarnevelt, the Dutch States-General fi nancial secretary, proposed that the small companies join forces and merge into one; as a result they joined forces and listed as a chartered company on 22 March 1602. It had a starting capital of 6.5 million Dutch Guilders and became known as the Vereenigde Oostindie Companie (VOC). It became the fi rst truly multinational trading company and set new standards in organization and management of international trade between Europe and Asia. The States-General authorized the VOC to make treaties with Asian princes, establish forts and garrisons, appoint governors and preserve law and order in overseas territories east of Cape of Good Hope and west of the Maganellas Strait.

22

1.12 1.13

1.14 F

In fact Portuguese missionary zeal in the central Moluccas reached its climax when the Jesuit Francis Xavier arrived in January 1546. Xavier and fellow Catholic missionaries expressed compassion for people’s spiritual and temporal welfare, which left an indelible stamp on the history of the Ambonese (Bartels 1994; Cooley 1962a, 1962b). For more information regarding sixteenth-century Ambonese Catholic ecclesiastical and missionary history (Jacobs 1974, 1980; Schurhammer 1963: Volume II; Visser 1925; Wessels 1926: Volume 109, 1934: Volume 119).

1.15 1.12 1.13 1.14 1.15

Portuguese fort Ambon, 1724 Ambon, 1880 Francois Xavier, 1506-1553 Buginese and Ambonese warriors, 17th C

AMBONESE SOCIETY UNDER COLONIAL RULE

1.16

1.17

1.18 G

This system of forced crop cultivation was initially introduced on Java in 1830, where the local population was forced to cultivate crops on one-fi fth of their land especially for the VOC. Those farmers who did not own any land had to work for the government for 66 days. This system, when introduced to the spice crops along with an exclusive trade monopoly, brought enormous wealth to the Dutch while reducing the Ambonese to poverty (Boelens, Fraassen and Straver 2001:233).

H

By the end of the seventeenth century some 54 schools operated, with about 4,700 students (Chauvel 1990:25).

1.19 1.16 1.17 1.18 1.19

Ship in Ambon bay, 1900 VOC carving VOC logo Jan PietersZoon Coen, 1720

The preservation of law and order on behalf of the Dutch States-General included waging wars against all enemies of the States or against those indigenous peoples who did not abide by the Dutch laws. As of 1568 the Dutch were at war with Spain, and when in 1580 Portugal allied itself with Spain the Dutch declared war on the Portuguese, in particular those who had settled in the colonies. The Dutch tried ferociously to cut the stranglehold of the Portuguese and under the leadership of Jan PietersZoon Coen, the Governor General of the VOC they managed to conquer the Banda islands in the central Moluccas in 1621. The VOC tried to arrange exclusive trading rights with the local population; however, according to the VOC, the ‘natives’ tried consistently to undermine Dutch attempts to exercise a spice monopoly in the region. In order to settle this dispute Coen took 2,000 men in 1622 on a punitive expedition to Banda, which resulted in the majority of the local population either perishing or being deported. The islands were repopulated with European ex-VOC members who were given land. Of course they and their slaves, made sure to abide by VOC trading law. By 1655 the VOC fi nally managed to establish a clove monopoly in Ambon. To make sure that only VOC-controlled regions would produce cloves, search-and-destroy missions were duly organized. These brutal ‘hongi’ raids ensured VOC hegemony in the central Moluccan islands and resulted in the extinction of Ambonese independent political and economic life.15 Until the end of the eighteenth century Ambon and the Lease islands were in a total grip of the enforced ‘culture system.’G This system provided the VOC with a monopoly on the supply of cloves for the world market, and of course free labour.16 The VOC’s stranglehold on the Ambonese was not only exerted in economic terms. Through forced migrations, depopulation of specific regions in the central Moluccas, and the repopulation of areas with ex-VOC members, the need for Dutch Reformed Christian clergymen and education was great. By 1618 several schools were established to educate the children of the Ambonese ruling class. H

23

CHAPTER ONE

The Church’s duty fi rst and foremost was to the spiritual wellbeing of VOC members and their families.17 The Church was compensated by the VOC, which also was responsible for the building of Churches and the provision of Bibles etc., making clergymen subordinate to the authority of the VOC’s economic policy. As European ministers only visited the region twice a year and only addressed local Christians, day-to-day pastoral care was left to salaried Ambonese schoolmasters who were trained in Ambon by local ministers. The schoolmasters were predominantly responsible for religious instruction. They taught their pupils how to read and write mostly by copying and reciting texts from the Bible and singing psalms. As such, schools became an important channel for supplanting Portuguese Catholic faith with the virtues, knowledge and practice of Dutch Protestantism.18 The VOC adopted the policy that Calvinistic Protestantism was a means of promoting the loyalty of the population to their Christian rulers and the Dutch government and it outlawed the practice of Catholicism. Offering basic religious education to the Ambonese facilitated this policy. Christian education encouraged religious integration in Ambonese society and assisted amalgamation of religious values with socio-economic progress. However during the eighteenth century the VOC started to accumulate major losses due to rising local costs and corruption among its highest ranks; on top of this they fi nanced the Anglo-Dutch war (17801784).19 This became an untenable situation and in 1799 the VOC’s charter was revoked and the company was nationalized. I

1.21

24

I

The Dutch government absorbed the accumulated depth of 219 million Dutch guilders and seized all assets. They also assumed responsibility for the governing of the region. The Dutch East Indies was ruled under dualistic principles with the Governor General and the central government located in the capital Batavia (Jakarta). Administrators were put in charge of regional governments and these were divided into local governments. Alongside this colonial system the ethnic government system was upheld and the Regents, usually members of Indonesia’s ruling class, maintained their position of power; although they were bound by colonial directives (Reid 1996; van Baardewijk 1998).

1.20

1.22 1.23 1.20 1.21 1.22 1.23

Dutch siege of Ambon, 1600 Ambon map, n/d Christian church Ambon, 1850 Portuguese fort Ambon, n/d

AMBONESE SOCIETY UNDER COLONIAL RULE

Missionaries and teachers

1.25 1.24

1.26

1.24 Christian school, Ambon, 1925 1.25 Teacher and students in local school, Ambon, 1900 1.26 Ambonese missionaries in black, n/d

J

From 1796 to 1816 the British assumed control of the Moluccan islands.

In 1816, after a period of neglect related to the collapse of the VOC and a brief rule by the British, J Joseph Kam, a minister and member of the Nederlandsche Zendelingen Genootschap (Dutch Missionary Society), arrived and established an institute to train Ambonese teachers. Building on the educational system that had operated during the VOC years, Kam’s teacher training was influenced by his religious stance so he prepared his teachers for the dual role of teaching and leading the congregation.20 Kam’s work reinvigorated the Christian faith among the Ambonese and he made a major contribution to the development of the Church and Christianity in the Moluccas during the nineteenth century.21 From 1864 the missionary B. Roskott was in charge of teacher training and he formalized the Institute so that it was officially recognized by the colonial government. Locally trained teachers combined the function of schoolteacher and parish minister until the government introduced a formal separation between Church and school in 1871. Then separate training courses were developed for schoolteachers and religious instructors who often ended up working side by side in the local parish. Thus, although in theory religious freedom allowed Ambonese Muslims equal access to education, in reality this was not the case. It was almost exclusively the Christian Ambonese who benefited as within Ambonese society the Christianity Church became wholly associated with education. The annual address at the opening of Parliament in 1901 officially confi rmed this close association when the King stated: ‘As a Christian nation, the Netherlands is obliged to improve the welfare of the indigenous Christians in the Indonesian archipelago, to support Christian missionary work and to assure that government policy realize the understanding that the Netherlands is responsible for imparting norms and values.’22 With preferential treatment of Christians, the educational, economic, and political divide between Muslims and Christians increased while at the same time the distance between the Ambonese Christians and the Dutch shrank.23

25

CHAPTER ONE

The close ties between the Ambonese and the Dutch were not only actualized in socio-economic status and political power but as we will see their status was also expressed visually through dress style and deportment.

The Koninklijk Nederlands Indisch Leger (KNIL), the Royal Netherlands Indies Army In the late nineteenth century, when the clove monopoly and its trade hand collapsed, government employment opportunities outside the central Moluccas became the preferred choice for many educated Ambonese; enlisting in the Royal Netherlands Indies Army (KNIL) became a close second. In 1830 the armed forces in the Dutch East Indies, previously under Dutch command, separated to form an independent entity under directive from the Ministry of the Colonies, rather than the War Cabinet.24 As the colonial government could not provide sufficient men to meet demand ethnic soldiers were recruited from loyal Ambonese and Minahassan negeris (small village compounds).25 Recruiting of these soldiers became a critical factor in the formation of this army and the maintenance of colonial power. Eagerness by local men to serve in the KNIL remained strong until the end of the colonial regime. Initially the ratio between Europeans and ethnic soldiers was equal, however an ethnic soldier’s pay was much lower than that of his European counterpart. This was with the exception of those who were of Ambonese or Menadonese descent who earned higher wages and received better conditions. The Ambonese soldier formed a crucial element in the social change of his own society. The soldiers and their families spent most of their service lives in the army barracks. Removed from their own communities as well as being fairly isolated from the local host society, Ambonese soldiers and their families developed a highly homogenous military subculture with its own structure of authority and its own cultural environment. In their segregation they developed a unique identity (encouraged by the military hierarchy) in which they saw themselves as superior to other peoples in the archipelago and close, although not equal, partners of the Dutch. K

26

1.27

K

A young man who joined the KNIL would spend his entire career living in the army barracks; these were usually stationed on the islands of Java or Sumatra. For every six years of service he was able to take two months’ leave. As a result of this isolation from local ethnic communities and by the remoteness of ancestral lands, Ambon became a distant reality. However Ambonese ideals and cultural values remained and were strengthened by new recruits, young brides and servicemen returning from leave. Often sons followed their fathers into the KNIL and as a result several generations of Ambonese would not have been anywhere near Ambon; but in spite of this they knew precisely where their ancestral home was and everybody in their village knew exactly where the soldiers were and what they were doing (Chauvel 1990:50).

1.28

1.29 1.27 City of Ambon crest 1.28 KNIL Statue, front and back 1.29 Eurasian family, 1915

AMBONESE SOCIETY UNDER COLONIAL RULE

The Dutch privileging them over other ethnic soldiers fuelled the feeling of supremacy among the Ambonese KNIL soldiers. 26 As well as earning a marginally better pay, they also enjoyed better conditions, such as ‘European’ food rations, superior clothing, better living environments and the prestige accorded to those who worked in government service.27 The children of Ambonese KNIL members were allowed to attend the specially established Dutch-language Ambonese schools, a privilege not accorded to other Indonesian children. These schools offered a standard of education equally as high as that available to the elite in Ambon, and it was via this level of education that children managed to secure a much better future and a chance of social mobility initially denied to their parents.28 The Christian Ambonese warriorL became a decisive ingredient in the successes of the KNIL armed forces. Their privileged position was due to their perceived military skills, fearlessness and their absolute devotion to Christianity and the Dutch royal family.29 1.30

1.30 China town, Ambon, 1919 1.31 China quarters, Ambon, 1919

1.31

L

Until the late 1930s very few Muslim men enlisted in the KNIL as Muslim law considered this occupation haram (forbidden) (Chauvel 1990:39).

M

From 1900 onwards, married men were allowed to take up postings in the Dutch East Indies. However it was common until about 1925 that men were only allowed to get married or bring their wives and families after their fi rst furlough. It was assumed that one needed a settlement period of at least a few years, and the distraction of wife and family would ultimately be most unproductive to the job at hand (Personal communication, Leeman-Musila, L. (2001) The Netherlands; Patty, M. (2001) The Netherlands).

Being prominently involved in combat against their own fellow Indonesians in conflicts such as the Aceh war (1873-1903), as well as their privileged position in the military inflated their perception and they considered themselves ‘Black Dutchmen.’30 This created great resentment among other ethnic groups within the military as well as within local Indies society where they were feared and seen as the arrogant ‘Anjing NICA’ (dogs of the Netherlands-Indies Civil Administration).31

Defining identity during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries Since early colonial intervention there was a strict political divide based on ethnicity, religion and education separating the colonizer from the colonized. From the beginning of Dutch rule, colonial authority actively encouraged Dutch men into concubinary relationships with local women to ‘cement alliances.’32 Concubinage was the main domestic arrangement in the Dutch East IndiesM until early twentieth century, because until then marriage prohibitions were imposed by the government in the Netherlands.33 This meant that only unmarried men could be sent to work in the Dutch East Indies. The legacy of sexual unions involving European men (colonial officials, the military, traders, planters, fortune seekers, etc) with local women resulted in a large creolized culture that visually blurred the boundaries between the colonizer and the colonized. Children born of European fathers who legally recognized their offspring automatically gained European status. Children who were not acknowledged by their father were considered ‘native’ and therefore fell under native rule. Acquiring ‘European status’ was not only a matter of the right skin colour or birthright; European status could also be gained through marriage. After 1871 it was possible for ethnic people to apply for reclassification of legal status and obtain the coveted European status. Criteria for eligibility were an excellent control of the Dutch language through education, being Christian, and a proven record of ascribing to ‘European mores and values.’34

27

CHAPTER ONE

A racially stratified society During the latter half of the nineteenth century the Ambonese enjoyed a high standard of education and many Ambonese Christians knew that Dutch-language education was the surest route to prosperity and status. This status was confi rmed when they applied for and received legal status as Europeans, making them feel superior to other Indonesians and therefore alienating them even further from their fellow countrymen. Comparatively higher educational standards coupled with Christian European values also meant that the Ambonese identified more with their Dutch colonizers than with other Indonesians. The Ambonese were inspired by their colonizers’ attitudes towards the presentation of the self and this attitude informed their behaviour and ideology. A carefully stratified society found its basis with the arrival of the Europeans in the sixteenth century and was further refi ned during colonialist rule. From 1854 Article 109 of Dutch government Policy indicated that Dutch-Indonesian society was officially based on a two-tier system: ethnic Indonesians and other foreign Asians (mostly those of Chinese, Japanese, or Arab background) made up one group, and Eurasians, indigenous people with European status, and westerners made up the other group. Differentiation between the two groups was recognized in the fact that Dutch law governed westerners and Eurasians while ethnic Indonesians and other Asians were recognized under the ‘Inlandse Regelement’ (Native Rule), unless they freely submitted to Dutch law. Native Rule was a simplified form of Dutch law and was applied to all criminal and civil cases (except for family and marriage law) all over colonial Indonesia from 1927 onwards. This meant that the ethnic community and other Asians were governed by lawfully recognized ethnic traditional beliefs, rules, and regulations. These rules and regulations were based on unwritten customary Adat law, N which regulated traditional society. With the focus clearly on people and the development of nationalist sentiments, Ambonese ethnic/cultural awareness started to permeate the local conscience.

28

N

Dimensions of the social system that based their origin in the indigenous foundation of Ambonese society. Adat refers in a general manner to attitudes and observances connected with belief in ancestral spirits and supernatural powers connected with certain places, objects or events. It is customary law that was handed down from the ancestors (Cooley, 1962b: 2). During Dutch colonial times Adat was mostly considered from a juridical and administrative perspective; however it lies at the heart of social and cultural life and was a defi ning element in the traditional Ambonese civilization and remains so in contemporary Moluccan society (Bartels, 1994: 32).

O

For an excellent analysis of the often ambiguous relationship between Indonesian and European women in the Dutch East Indies between 1900 and 1942 see Locher-Scholten (1996). For an analysis of the relationship between Europeans, Eurasians and ethnic Indonesians during the seventeenth century see Taylor (1983).

P

For an informative view on the profits raised during early colonization of the Southeast Asian archipelago see Simon Schama (1987) The Embarrassment of Riches: An Interpretation of Dutch Culture in the Golden Age. London: Fontana.

1.32 Teaching staff of the Hollands Inlandse school te Ambon, 1919

AMBONESE SOCIETY UNDER COLONIAL RULE

This realization and the fact that at the start of the twentieth century the local economy almost came to a standstill had a lasting effect on the Ambonese and how they perceived themselves. Eurasians were juridically equal to Europeans, but equality in the eyes of the law did not mean equality in society.O During the nineteenth century the Eurasians became more and more marginalized; they were neither considered European, nor ethnic Indonesian. Nineteenth century evolutionary western theories of anthropology saw a gradual shift in Dutch attitudes, whereas previously Indonesians were seen as a fundamentally different race and class, modernist thinking now elicited a new set of sensibilities, a new way of looking at the world. Colonial discourse was essentially ethnocentric: Indonesian and Eurasian lifestyles, mores and values were judged from a European-defi ned perspective, thus informed by western notions of that time the Dutch accepted Indonesians as people, albeit culturally and socially less developed. The ultimate superiority of the totok (European) was epitomized by a statement made in 1850 by the then Governor General J.J. Rochussen, who coined the term: ‘nobility of skin’ (adeldom van de huid) when he stated that ‘[western] dominance in Indonesia is based on the moral and intellectual superiority of the white race over the dark race’. He considered the Eurasians, those of mixed blood the ‘parias of the European community’, as they were ‘poor, and full of hate towards the Europeans.’35 His attitude endorsed the cultural and economic division that existed between Europeans on the one hand and the natives and Eurasians on the other hand. The colonized were subjects that needed to be ‘educated and civilized’. This mix of western superiority and social concern resulted in the development and implementation of a detailed ‘Ethical Policy’; its principal aim was to develop both the land and its people.36

The Ethical Policy The opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 heralded a new chapter in the history of the Dutch East Indies as more people found their way there, including European intellectuals, journalists, lawyers, agriculturalists, and teachers. They worked with the Indonesian people in a traditional colonial context; however gradually a political realization of inequality and unfairness developed and this awareness led to the rise of a resistance movement criticizing Dutch foreign policy. Concern was aired in the publication of an ‘Open Letter to the Dutch Government’ in the Semarangsche Courant in 1888, endorsed by 1,200 people.37 This critique found a ready audience among socialists and liberals living in the Netherlands, who were horrified by the profits the Dutch government had obtained during the many years of colonization. P Prime Minister de Kuyper recognized the swell of disquiet and proposed in 1901: ‘as a Christian nation the Netherlands is obliged to rectify the position of Christian natives of the Indonesian archipelago, to support the efforts of Christian missionaries as well as ensure that governmental reform articulates the ethical responsibility of the Netherlands towards the peoples of these districts’. Rectification of the position of Christian natives and support for the missionaries translated into the favouring of Christians above Islamic people, while at the same time the Netherlands was responsible for ‘civilizing and educating’ the natives towards independence. This independence meant limited self-government according to a European model, but under total Dutch rule.38 This meant that Dutch people in the Dutch East Indies were not only considered racially above the Eurasians and natives, they were also responsible for moral education and civilization reform processes based on western principles. Naturally these roles and responsibilities were not only socially but also economically recognized and rewarded. In 1922 the Commissie Damme developed a salary pay scale placing European salaries at the top and the ethnic pay at the bottom. Eurasian pay was somewhere in between these groups, clearly separating subgroups of people with European status. The Commissie based these scales on what they considered to be ‘appropriate cultural needs.’39 This measure only added more fuel to the nationalistic cry for equality for all Moluccans, regardless of their religion.40

29

CHAPTER ONE

The proclamation of the Republik Maluku Selatan (RMS) The Ambonese were not immune from the wave of nationalistic sentiment that swept the Indonesian archipelago in the early twentieth century. The main focus of the nationalistic organizations was independence from the colonial regime and the formation of a sovereign state that was inclusive of the Moluccan islands. These national sentiments provoked heated debate among the Ambonese, because acceptance of decolonization, equality and the push for independence effectively meant a stop to the lucrative positions they had occupied for so long in the colonial administration and the KNIL. Independence from the Dutch not only severely challenged their privileged position, it brought into question their loyalty to the Queen; these dilemmas brought about a major shift in Ambonese society.41 In 1920 Alexander Jacob Patty founded Sarekat Ambon, a political organization whose objectives were decolonization and the improvement of economic interests and social welfare of all the Ambonese, including the Muslims. It was not until 1933 that the Governor-General granted Sarekat Ambon recognition; however the party remained a forbidden organization for soldiers.42 This separation led to mainstream Ambonese sharing nationalist-separatist views on independence, whereas the KNIL soldiers by and large remained loyal to the Dutch. It was with Dutch defeat at the hands of the Japanese, that these tensions came to the surface. The end of World War II heralded the beginning of a marked separation between Ambonese nationalists, those who wanted independence, and loyalists, those who stayed loyal to the Dutch. On 17 August 1945 Sukarno and Mohammad Hatta declared Indonesia independent and a long and protracted decolonization process ensued.

1.33

1.34

1.33 Alexander Jacob Patty, leader of Sarekat, Ambon, 1920 1.34 RMS logos 1.35 City of Ambon crest

30

1.35

AMBONESE SOCIETY UNDER COLONIAL RULE

At last on 27 December 1949 the Dutch government passed sovereignty to the Indonesian Republic and proceeded to disband the KNIL. During the fi rst half of 1950 all states entered the Republic, but the region of East Indonesia, inclusive of Ambon and New Guinea, rebelled. Local opposition towards the Republic resulted in a bloody confrontation between nationalists and loyalists in Ambon in January 1950.43 Mr. Dr. Soumokil and Ir. Manusama attempted to negotiate a legitimate independent status for the region East Indonesia within the Republic; however when it was clear that this would fail the Republic of South Maluku (RMS) was declared on 25 April 1950, claiming as its territory the central and south-east Moluccan islands. When Queen Juliana ordered the KNIL to be officially disbanded in July 1950, calling and end to a 120-year tradition, some 25,000 soldiers were of Moluccan descent. Of this group the Dutch government demobilized 12,000, discharged 1,000 and wanted to demobilize a further 4,000 soldiers who were stationed in Java.44 The Ambonese, fearing reprisals from the Javanese, demanded their discharge take place in Ambon; however, Sukarno was concerned they would then join the ranks of the RMS. The Ambonese soldiers successfully fought that decision in court and the Dutch government reluctantly decided to offer Ambonese KNIL soldiers and their families temporary residence in the Netherlands, until it was safe to return to Ambon.45 1.36

1.37 1.36 RMS jacket, 2000 1.37 RMS car sticker

Moluccans in exile In early 1952, some 3,578 Ambonese soldiers and 8,500 family members arrived in the Netherlands, where the Dutch government promptly completed its demobilization process and discharged them all.46 After many centuries of unquestioning loyalty to the Dutch and devotion to the Queen, the Ambonese felt deserted by the very government they had trusted with their life. This betrayal resulted in an overwhelming display of anti-Dutch sentiments and many sought solace in the RMS ideology and fi rmly believed the Dutch would eventually escort them back to a free, independent Moluccan state.

31

CHAPTER ONE

In 1952 Mr. Dr. Soumokil accepted presidency of the RMS government in exile on the central Moluccan island of Seram, where he was arrested in 1963 and executed by the Suharto regime in 1966. Ir. Manusama, who had lived in exile in the Netherlands since 1953, became the next president of the RMS. In the meantime the ex-KNIL soldiers saw their military status removed and were forced to trade their privileged position for blue-collar jobs in local factories. They realized that the Dutch government would not yield to any of their wishes or demands, whether presented through negotiation or by force.Q The Moluccan Church played a significant role in keeping the RMS dream alive. The Church reinforced the belief that with God’s help the injustice of the Moluccan position would be rectified. Additionally, information from family and friends still living in the Moluccas about torture and harassment at the hands of the Suharto regime increased their negative feeling and apprehension towards the Indonesian Republic.47 This strengthened the Moluccan resolve to maintain their ethnic identity and to stay together as a community in the purposebuilt neighbourhoods and wards throughout the Netherlands. The Moluccan community mobilized their forces and an emphasis was placed on maintenance and continuation of their traditional culture. To date the Church has maintained its powerful central position in the community; several political leaders are also clergymen who work hard to stabilize political factions, prevent splintering and above all maintain Moluccan identity and community cohesion.48 The RMS and the various factions that have formed remain active; however their political agenda has shifted to a more moderate stance with a focus on the improvement of the relationship between the Dutch and the Moluccan communities.49 During the late twentieth century the initial RMS objective of returning to a free Moluccan state has gradually moved to include permanency and integration in Dutch society50 with the beginning of the twenty-first century marking a celebration of Moluccan identity.

32

1.38 Maluku mass grave, 2000R

Q

The more time passed, the more disillusioned the Moluccan community became. Their frustration with the Dutch government at its inability to recognize past claims (that the Dutch would return them to a free Moluccan State) and welfare needs reached a spectacular climax during the 1970s. The younger Moluccan generation had lost its faith in the RMS and they grieved for their parents and the bad treatment at the hand of the Dutch government. In 1975 Moluccan extremists hijacked a train in the north of Holland while another group seized the Indonesian consulate. Before they surrendered, four people lost their lives. In 1977 another train was hijacked and a primary school seized.

After a tense 26-day standoff the Dutch recaptured the train and school, and six hijackers and two hostages died. In 1978 three Moluccans occupied the provincial chambers of government in Drenthe and in the aftermath two hostages perished (Bartels 1989:18; van Baardewijk 1998:183-4). R

Maluku mass grave, Holland where are you? Graffiti in The Netherlands in 2000 questioning the lack of Dutch government assistance after violent confl icts erupted in the Central Maluku Islands between Muslims and Christians, which left many dead and injured.

AMBONESE SOCIETY UNDER COLONIAL RULE

33

Disciplined dress

CH A P T ER T WO DISCIPLINED DRESS

‘‘Women showed their worth by draping rare cloth around their abdomen, to symbolise fertility and continuity of the clan’.’’ F. J. P. Sachse, 1907

CHAPTER TWO

I

t was not until 1687 that some of the fi rst drawings of people from the eastern islands of Indonesia were made.

Sylvester Brounower was a servant of the eminent English philosopher John Locke (1632-1704), who lived in political exile in the Netherlands from 1684 to 1688. Brounower copied some 26 images and one was of an Ambonese woman. Neither Locke nor his servant had ever been to the eastern islands of the Indonesia and as with many drawings and etchings of that time, the accuracy of the clothing in the watercolours was heavily infused with the artist’s own flair and imagination, a fact acknowledged by Locke himself.1 It is highly problematic to evaluate genuine sartorial styles of those times according to these images. Not until the advent of photography during the nineteenth century did a more authentic depiction of Indonesians became available. One of the oldest photographs of Ambonese women in the collection of the KITLV in The Netherlands was made in the famed studio of Woodbury and Page in Batavia (Jakarta). Although clearly staged, the photograph, which was taken around 1870, shows in great detail the clothing and accessories worn. The long black blouse featured in this portrait appears frequently in photographs taken in Ambon around the turn of the twentieth century – visual confi rmation that these items were indeed part of the dress lexicon of Ambonese women. During the late nineteenth and early twentieth century Ambonese people appeared in photographs for a variety of reasons. The majority of these pictures were made in the context of ceremonies documenting ethnic displays at Queen’s birthday celebrations or activities organized around the arrival of the Governor General. Others represented romanticized ethnographic examples of (usually Alifuru)A men, women and children, depicting their primitiveness.

36

2.02

2.03 A

Alifuru are the local indigenous people whose society formed the basis of Ambonese culture.

B

It has been impossible during the course of this project to fi nd, either in private or public collections, visual images of members of Ambonese Muslim communities of that time. As is discussed, this absence could be viewed as indicative of the place they occupied within Dutch colonial society.

2.02 Ambonese women in Batavia, 1870 2.03 An Amboine, 1687

DISCIPLINED DRESS

2.04

These images in particular were indicative of a colonially flavoured construct of ethnic Ambonese identity, as the individuals and their accessories were often selected and staged by the (usually Western) photographer. At the same time photographs made for the Ambonese themselves were typically wedding portraits or portraits of Christians at their confi rmation ceremony. B Apart from these photographs ethnic Ambonese were generally domestic staff in European households or incidental bystanders in location snapshots. It is from these pictures that not only an image emerges of those Ambonese who did not work in government agencies or the military, but also an indication of what kinds of dress items people wore, especially as they went about their daily routine. This chapter starts with an analysis of Ambonese and European disciplined dress according to the dress typology mentioned in the prologue. The remainder of this chapter is divided in two main sections: one analysing men’s dress styles and the other examining women’s dress styles relative to their associated body maintenance regimes.

2.05

Disciplined dress styles

2.04 Ambonese fi sh market, 1880 2.05 Ambon market 2.06 Passar Street, Ambon, 1724

2.06

The action of disciplined dress is a regimented routine. These routines include specific usage of dress items that facilitates the development of a particular identity and the activities associated with achieving (completing) this identity, such as hygiene, hair styling and so on. Disciplinary techniques of dress are exercised in a Foucauldian mode by creating a particular regime of control by and through the self.2 This regimentation (action) is twofold: ~ control of dress ~ control of the body via the medium of dress. First of all, disciplined dress styles that ascribe to a particular socially engineered style announce membership of the collective; thus choosing to wear approved variants of common dress makes one socially acceptable within the context of time and space. Staying within socially and culturally defi ned borders results in clothing ensembles that are therefore predictable in their design and use.

37

CHAPTER TWO

Secondly, ascribing to a specific dress style physically disciplines the body into a desired shape and as a result a corresponding code of corporeal behaviour is expected, such as walking or sitting in a precise manner and maintaining a particular grooming regime. Therefore, disciplined dress styles are dissociated from the self and associated with society. A relationship with others is forged on the basis of similar visual identities by wearing of clothes and accessories that are commonly deemed appropriate and acceptable. Disciplined dress styles remain reliant on a continuous sense of lack. That lack is defi ned by individuality, which creates a visual and sometimes physical and emotional separation between the self and the group. Disciplined Ambonese dress was dissociated from the self, as it was a dress style that was concerned with Ambonese culture and not with the self. Association with Ambonese culture was facilitated through dissociation from the body, thus allowing cultural dress norms and values to depict the manner in which the Ambonese dressed and decorated themselves. For that reason, regular Ambonese daywear as described in this chapter was effectively monadic, because the body was used to display and confi rm status and ethnicity through its personal regime of dress, grooming, and physical control. The desire to be recognized and remain an acceptable member of the Ambonese community was expressed by adherence of suitable clothing styles. Subordination to the desire to belong fuelled the need to update dress regularly according to the latest local styles. In representing Ambonese identity, it was imperative that an awareness of belonging continued. Fear of a demise of contingency justified the desire to continuously reproduce a visual image of Amboneseness. The resulting identities extrapolated core Ambonese values that were further refi ned during colonial rule. Visual representation of these values acted recursively, as visual characterization not only confi rmed but also classified and endlessly reproduced the very identity considered Ambonese, albeit colonially infused.

38

Most dress systems considered in this book developed after European incursion, because they were created in the context of imposed Christian or Muslim rationalization, western persuasion, access to increased technology and materials, and a greater awareness of indigenous values and ethics. Those styles considered disciplined dress were external manifestations of all these influences.

Men’s wear Ambonese men’s dress described in this chapter was worn as a confi rmation of ethnic status. Wearing ethnic-style dress depicted membership of the lowest social class; it signalled manual labour and lack of (Dutch language) education.3 These dress styles were ethnically defi ned and acknowledged by the colonizer. The ethnic dress system enforced Ambonese and colonial standards and values and visually marked the Ambonese male as a minor in colonial society. The dress systems described here were regular day-to-day outfits of the labourer, the fisherman or longshoreman. In order to understand Ambonese men’s dress design, it is important to consider a brief overview of attitudes and development to dress in Europe around the time of European incursion in the central Moluccas.

Early European men’s dress In Europe the dawn of the sixteenth century saw a complete break from dress traditions of the Middle Ages, and clothing became a more overt expression of status and material wellbeing. Spanish and Portuguese expeditions around the world were bringing new wealth to the Iberian Peninsula. International trade and subsequent power brought new affluence and this was indicated by a broadening of the male silhouette across the shoulders characterising a shift in emphasis from vertical to horizontal lines.4 At the height of Renaissance society, the body became the bearer of social value and standing, and clothing worn indicated this status. Characteristically for this period, dress for men consisted of nederhose and upperhose. The nederhose were stockings reaching from the top of the foot to the top of the thighs.

DISCIPLINED DRESS

2.07

2.08

2.09

C

2.07 Street in Amboina, 1830 2.08 European man in Spanish breeches 2.09 European man with neck ruffl e

The codpiece or ‘baguette’ was, according to Rabelais, invented to protect the genitals in battle. However, it was quite likely devised to facilitate the armoured knight’s call to nature. It has also been said it protected the wearer’s clothes from staining by anti-syphilitic ointments (Davies 1997:427).

The upperhose were like breeches (crotch-less shorts completed with a codpiece),C which became fuller and more bulbous later in the century. These ‘Spanish breeches’ remained in fashion among the upper classes of most European nations until well into the seventeenth century.5 Both hose were topped with a doublet, a fitted, waisted, sleeveless jacket buttoned at the front and elaborately decorated with embroidery. The doublet was developed from the medieval gambeson, a sleeveless jacket placed under a soldier’s armour. In Europe the doublet was worn as a jacket from the late fourteenth century until 1670. Underneath the doublet an embroidered linen or cambric shirt was worn. This shirt had wide, gathered sleeves and fi ne ruffles which showed at the neck and wrist. Towards the end of the century the neck ruffle became the fully developed ruff, starched and wired. Dress design during the sixteenth century accentuated the broadness of the male torso. The shape of armour was informative of the fashion worn, and the tight nederhose, short doublet, ballooning breeches and codpiece all drew attention to the genitals. Due to the large amount of fabric worn on the torso with the full stuffed breeches and codpiece, the male stance became wide-legged. Silk knit stockings were a Spanish invention of this time, and these close fitting nederhose accentuated the male stance and masculine power even more. Often men were portrayed standing with their hand resting on their hip, ‘one foot advanced, in an attitude of withdrawal, hieratic and stiff,’6 and weapons at the ready. This masculine rigidity reflected the power, attitude and proud etiquette of the European courts. Ruffs encircled the head and defi ned the face, highlighting enlightenment and mental engagement with new scientific, technological, educational, and religious developments. Colours were muted and, at the height of Spanish rule in Europe during the sixteenth century, black was introduced; sobriety was exemplified by the absence of colour. However, sumptuous fabrics and exquisite embroidery underscored this lack of colour.

39

CHAPTER TWO

White ruffs around the neck separated the head (mind) from the body, in a sense representing the new ascetic movement predominant within Catholic morality that separated mind (spiritual) from body (sin).7 New movements towards ascetic monasticism emerged during the sixteenth century, the focus of which was largely on the body. A rational and systematic regimen of denial exercised by new monastic orders characterized the attitude towards the body. Asceticism introduced a new guilt about the body, and the practice of self-restraint and abstinence from food, drink and sexual practice extended to the presentation of the self. This new culture of routine and self-control was not only contained within monastic order as ascetic practice but also found its way into secular society. 8 However, Renaissance society was quite contradictory because this intense religious culture was also becoming more and more dedicated to economic expansion and heightened living standards. European dress articulated this tension between asceticism and this newfound worldliness, simultaneously expressing sexual guilt and subverting it. Dress hid sexuality and at the same time displayed it, drawing attention to the body in an ambivalent manner.9

European men’s dress in Ambon up to the late eighteenth century European men had settled in the central Moluccan area since the early sixteenth century, fi rst the Portuguese and from the seventeenth century the Dutch and other Europeans.10 There are records of Europeans in Java dressed in dark-colored woollen and velvet garments set off by crisp white ruffs (collars) according to western fashion during that time.11 It is most probable that Europeans working for the VOC in Ambon were dressed in a similar manner. In fact the engravings in ‘Oud en Nieuw Oost-Indiën’ of Valentijn (1724) clearly feature European men and women throughout Asia in regular western dress worn at that time.12 The power of dress and personal presentation was not lost on the Dutch colonial government, and from the start of colonial rule successive colonial governments set out to impose dress rules and

40

regulations on the people of the Indonesian archipelago. They used dress codes in order to create powerful appearances of state control, nationhood and group solidarity among the local population and extended their authority to include dress regulations for their own Dutch employees. Those locals who were in VOC employment were regularly presented with dress material, while the company was in fi rm control of its trade.13 After the demise of the VOC the practice of rewarding loyal subjects with bolts of black cloth remained in force until the beginning of the twentieth century.14 This political interference stratified the population and polarized slaves and ‘free’ workers. Governor General Jacob Mossel’s 1754 legislation ‘Measures of Curbing Pomp and Circumstance’ describes in detail what could and could not be worn and by whom. These rules applied in particular to those living on the island of Java. However for Europeans working in the ‘Outer Offices of the Indies’ (i.e. the Moluccan islands) it was acceptable they dressed ‘according to native costume’ (black drawstring pants and white top for men and sarong and kebaya for women) − that is, until such time as they came to Java where men were expected to wear European dress and their wives were expected to dress according to the rules set out in the legislation of the day.15 Issuing colonially sanctioned clothing placed these items in a mediatory role between the individual and society. Thus these garments became sites of power placed in the matrix of discipline and transgression, colonial adherence and ethnic identity and knowledge and economic advantage. For the Dutch dress became, in Foucauldian terminology, a panoptic instrument of surveillance because the act of distributing clothes facilitated a means of control and domination.16 Dress was a tool used in relation to technologies of the self, affecting not only how individuals and groups clothed their bodies and how they behaved, but also more importantly how the colonizers and the colonized saw themselves and each other.

DISCIPLINED DRESS

2.12

2.10

2.11

In tandem with the Dutch government, the VOC played a decisive role in the early development of dress in the Indonesian archipelago, especially men’s dress. It not only introduced European dress items as daywear to Christian Ambonese, it also introduced the covering of the upper body by issuing shirts with trousers or sarongs to people in its employ.17 As a result, the wearing of European clothes became synonymous with colonial power, progress, Christian values, and bodies covered from head to toe. Those who had converted to Islam also covered their bodies, especially during Muslim ceremonies and observances. However, due to the isolation of the Ambonese Muslims from mainstream Muslims in the rest of the Indonesian archipelago, it is quite possible that they went bare-chested the rest of the time. The appearance of Dutch VOC employees in the Indonesian archipelago gradually shifted from sober, simple Calvinist dress to a more authoritative style of clothing expressing wealth and status. Sober restrained dress was not indicative of the power and wealth enjoyed by the colonizers who were frequently exposed to colourful, richly decorated, sumptuous garments and accessories from China, India, Malaysia and the Javanese courts. The Dutch colonizers soon realized that rationalization of visual identity affi rmed their ideal as the superior race. Separating European from ethnic dress styles placed the focus on production and substance; status was now indicated by technological advancement of tailoring and quality of materials as well as accessories such as a watch and chain and a monocle (corrective lens for single eye). In its simplicity the black western three-piece suit became a powerful statement of modernity. From the middle of the nineteenth century European men wore full western dress, consisting of regular black trousers, white shirt, black suit jacket, and vest; a hat, socks, and leather shoes completed the outfit. Hair was cut short and beards and moustaches were trimmed.18

2.10 Mr Spekschot, Principal of the ‘Eerste School’ in Ambon, with his wife, 1896 2.11 VOC logo 2.12 Ambonese hajjis, 1887

41

CHAPTER TWO

The karsang kartow could be either full length or reach mid-calf.

Regular Christian Ambonese men’s day wear Unlike their western counterparts daily dress for Christian Ambonese males throughout the nineteenth century consisted mainly of a black or navy pair of karsang kartow, cotton drawstring pants, sometimes topped with a black or white baju célah, D a flat patterned tunic-style top.19 They went barefoot. Hair was cut short and often oiled with coconut or palm oil to keep it in place.20 Muslim traders possibly introduced the baju célah. It featured a round neck opening with a V split at the throat. There were no shoulder seams as the front and back panels were cut in one. Rectangular gores were inserted in the side seams to give a desired width to the garment. The baju célah was not tailored; the long sleeves were set in straight and underarm gussets provided room for movement. It fell to the hip or thigh and had small seams at the bottom and on the sleeves. This garment was worn in different variations in the Moluccas and along the coast of Sulawesi as well as in West Sumatra.22 Most of the time however, the Ambonese, especially fishermen and coolies, went bare-chested.23 The karsang kartow could be either full length or reach mid-calf. Sometimes these pants were substituted for a kain palekat, a chequered kain. This kain originated from Makassar and featured a cloth with small checks usually in a red and white, or green and white colour scheme. These kains were initially introduced to the Indonesian archipelago by Indian and Buginese traders from South Sulawesi.24 In 1628 Dutch Governor-General Jan Pieterszoon Coen secured the textile trade monopoly for the VOC in the Maluku islands, ensuring that these chequered Indian cloths became a staple item of Ambonese dress.25 During special occasions, Christian Ambonese and Eurasians added a black kebaya to their clothing.26 The kebaya was a flat, non-tailored garment. Using the same design principles as the baju célah it was open at the front and reached mid-thigh. The black kebaya became a potent symbol of religious, economic and political status.

42

2.13

2.14 D

The Dutch term ‘baadje’ (vest or undershirt with sleeves) fi nds its origin here.

2.13 Karsang kartow 2.14 Baju célah

DISCIPLINED DRESS

It was especially worn to Church by those Ambonese who had been confi rmed into the Christian faith and subsequently managed to acquire European status, 27 visually separating them from other ethnic and religious groups and from those Ambonese who lived in the negeri (village). Within religious context, the colour black was initially introduced by the Portuguese in the sixteenth century.28 Black for mourning had been worn by the Spanish and Portuguese since the twelfth century. Religious orders wore black and the colour became synonymous with the precept of austere moderation, celebrating restraint and dignity. Monastic identities were readily absorbed within general European secular society and gradually the colour black became the norm for regular dress worn to Church.29 When the Portuguese introduced Christian rites to the Ambonese, their dress and colour became subordinate to Christian principles.30

2.15

Baniang In the late nineteenth century, when a colonial-style white suit gained momentum as regular dress for European men in the Indies, there was also a fashion development at the ethnic Ambonese level. The power of cultural uniformity was not lost on the Ambonese, who countered the western colonial suit with their version of a white jacket: the baniang. The baniang featured distinct differences from the jas tutup, as it did not have shoulder epaulets or rank markers on the sleeves. This jacket immediately rose in ethnic status as it epitomized colonial Ambonese position: concurrently Ambonese and western. Contingency of ethnic Christian identity provided the impetus for its development and design, positioning the baniang as a disciplined dress item. The desire to associate with the colonizer and simultaneously retain ethnic Ambonese identity became the prime motive in adopting these visual emblems and physical maintenance regimes, which were indicative of western-based standards.

2.17

2.15 Ambonese market, 1900 2.16 Ambonese male in Baju célah 2.17 Ambonese males in baniang, n/d 2.16

43

CHAPTER TWO

Made from sturdy white cotton drill, the baniang was a long-sleeved collarless shirt-jacket of thick cotton, featuring bound buttonholes and two bound pockets positioned low on the front panels and a bound breast pocket on the left panel. The long sleeves were cuff-less, the neck opening was rolled with a biased-cut tape, and there was a placket at the front. Instead of the brass buttons that were the hallmark of the Western colonial white suit, the baniang was closed with five removable ball-shaped buttons made from the lid of whelksE , or winkle shells.31 These buttons, like the ones on the jas tutup, were the most important part of the baniang, although they served a different purpose. They were made from the operculum (lid or seal) of the Turbo petholata shell. RumphiusF called it ‘the most handsomest of the Mata Bulans, truly round, flat on the bottom, and, as usual, marked with a navel, on top it is almost a half circle or the shape of a lentil, mostly black, green and russet on the edges, smooth and shiny like the eyes of an ox.’32 Not only was the shape of the lid exactly right for use as a button, the Turbo petholatus shell occupied a significant place in Ambonese material history as it was named after the fabled patola cloth. This shell featured the same colours and similar designs as found on this cloth. The lids were named mata bulan, (cat’s eyes), because they were white, with dark brown and green marks, reminiscent of feline eyes. Rather than indicating rank, mata bulan were supposed to have magic healing powers and ward off evil spirits. It was reported to Rumphius that: ‘after one has crushed the Mata Bulan, dissolved it in vinegar, and administered it, it removes clotted blood, incites the menses of Women and expels bladder stones … The Natives place the lids of giant Turbo Petholata shells in water, wherein they wash their young children, against the Sawan, that is, the Evil Spirit, which seizes children and makes them restless.’33 The white baniang jacket was worn with black or navy celana golvi G (trousers with fly) or kain (hip wrap) without shoes or sandals, making this dress accessible to all Ambonese. H When out on the town a capu tikar I (straw boater, literally ‘mat hat’) was worn at a rakish angle.34

44

2.18 E

Whelks, or winkle, cochlea or turbo shells are horn-shaped featuring a distinct mother-ofpearl lining (Rumphius 1705).

F

Georgius Everhardus Rumphius (1628-1702) was a German natural scientist who had a special interest in botany. He entered the VOC’s service in 1652 and arrived in Ambon in 1653, where he lived until his death in 1702. During that time he completed Het Amboinsche Kruidboek (1695) (‘The Ambonese Herbal Catalogue’), a seven-volume text describing approximately 1,200 plants found in Ambon. He also wrote D’Amboinsche Rariteitenkamer (1741) (‘The Ambonese Curiosity Cabinet’), describing shellfi sh, minerals, precious stones and curiosities found in Ambon (Fraassen 1983:26)

G

Celana golvi are also called Celana bovèn from the Dutch term boven, which means ‘upper’ or ‘outer’, referring here to outer-wear trousers (as distinct from underwear).

H

The wearing of shoes was the prerogative of Eurasians and Europeans only.

I

Capu is derived from the French chapeau (hat).

2.19

2.18 Ambonese in chequered kains 2.19 Whelks and Turbo Petholata shells

DISCIPLINED DRESS

2.20

2.22

2.21

2.23

2.20 2.21 2.22 2.23 2.24

Black kebaya White baniang Georg Everhard Rumphius (1672-1702) Mata bulan Ambonese wearing white baniang jackets, 1900

2.24

The baniang was a jacket that successfully negotiated traditional Christian Ambonese dress sense with western material science, dressmaking technology and design style. It clearly defi ned ethnic identity and yet was in step with the newly developed white colonial suit that was worn by the Europeans. The baniang became the prescribed wear for men at special functions and at Church services, allowing the jacket to become a necessary element of mainstream Ambonese dress.35 Although on fi rst impression the baniang might seem similar to the jas tutup, there were distinct differences. The baniang was a much more versatile jacket than the jas tutup, as it was an independent garment, unlike the jacket of the jas tutup, which was part of a complete suit and therefore was not combined with any other garments. The baniang could be worn over a kain instead of black trousers; whilst worn under a kebaya it resembled a shirt rather than a jacket. The development of the baniang served a different purpose. The construction of the jas tutup was a reaction to environmental conditions because the jas tutup was much cooler to wear than a dark western suit; in addition the jas tutup was a direct response to the concern of loss of visual supremacy within a colonial context; during the latter half of the nineteenth century the jas tutup became legally prescribed western men’s wear. The baniang however found its impetus in the enhancement of visuality of ethnic identity and the need for religious distinction; it at once announced ethnicity and Christianity. It also indicated whether the wearer was confi rmed in the Christian faith or not, as only confi rmed men were allowed to wear a black kebaya over the baniang; those who had as yet not been confi rmed wore the baniang only.36 The baniang did not feature prominent rank badges or rank buttons indicating status or title, it positioned the wearer in a much subtler manner. Religious position was visually represented and via this status socioeconomic class within colonial Ambonese society was inferred. The baniang was not a prescribed garment as such, but displaying one’s AmboneseChristian identity predicated its use.

45

CHAPTER TWO

Muslim men’s wear When Muslim traders came to the Moluccas to trade their goods in exchange for spices and damar resin, J they wore long flowing, oriental-styled garments influenced by their own ethnic backgrounds and their religion. There are some early accounts of Islamic dress. Antonio Galvâo noted in 1544 the ‘white dress of the Muslim Kaitjil Rade, brother of the defeated ruler of Tidore, and all the king’s brothers.’37 Walter Caulfied Lennon, a secretary of a British expedition which set out from Tidore to Ambon in 1796, noted in his diary that ‘the acquaintance of Sultan Ibrahim has traded for the last two or three years for dresses of Bengal manufacture.38 He was referring to the calf-length baju and wide pants worn by Muslim men that originated in the Indian region of Bengal and were inspired by the long flowing robes worn in the Middle East. In Southeast Asia these long baju had become widespread by the middle of the nineteenth century as items of daily apparel.39 In his treatise Galvão also referred to trousers. Baron van Hoëvell described these many years later as ‘a wide pair of trousers, the crotch hangs low against the knees and the trouser leg fits narrow around the ankles’; he likened them to Zouave pants. These pants are gathered at the waist and are worn even today in the Middle East region and the Islamic strongholds of Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan. Although Galvão saw the trousers in white (kelsan patah lutu), Baron van Hoëvell remembered them a lot more colourful: (kelsan menampal): ‘they can have red or black central panels and blue side panels or reversed’ hence Van Hoëvell’s reference to ZouaveK pants.40 Muslim men often brought a second kain into the mosque to serve as a prayer mat. They wore a sorban (turban) made from a length of white cotton, twisted and wrapped around their shaven heads, and feet were bare.41 Religious Muslim leaders wore a flowing robe called a jubahL instead of the baju célah, this was a long Arabic-style garment in red or yellow silk. Those who were hajj (men who had made the pilgrimage to Mecca) wore the black sonke, the Muslim hat made of silk or horsehair.

46

2.25 2.26

J

Gum obtained from the Dipterocarpaceae trees in Eastern Indonesia.

K

Zouave pants derive their name from the French Light Infantry Corps composed of Algerian recruits, noted for their fierce loyalty and colourful uniforms. The Papal army, which is a volunteer Swiss Infantry Corps and serves a largely decorative function, wear uniforms that were partially oriental (trousers) and partially occidental (top), based on military dress of Spanish army from the Middle Ages.

L

Jubah, from the Arabic term jubbah or jaibbah, meaning ‘robe’.

2.25 Muslim man in white Kelsan Pata Lutu 2.26 Muslim man in chequered Kain

DISCIPLINED DRESS

2.27

2.28 2.27 Muslim man with white cap 2.28 Hajjis in various dress, Maluku, 1890

Only rajahs and imams were allowed to wear leather taripu (sandals) and a red or yellow silk jubah instead of the regular white one. Upon entering the mosque the sandals were removed. Towards the turn of the twentieth century Muslim men started to wear straight drawstring pants (karsang kartow) in white or navy and a simple baju or a chequered sarong. The white turban gave way to a small white skullcap.42 There was no visible dress difference except the sandals and sonke. Dress variation, in this case hat style, was primarily used as a religious marker and secondarily as a socioeconomic indicator; after all, not everyone could afford a trip to Mecca. During the 1930s more men started to wear sandals during the day and rajahs started to wear western suits. During worship the chequered kain was placed over the suit trousers and tied in a large box pleat to conceal the part between the waist and the knees.43 The checks were very large and the colour schemes quite subdued.44 Muslim men preserved their traditional mode of dress for a much longer period than the Ambonese Christians. This situation was an outcome of various factors. Until the late nineteenth century Muslim communities were fairly isolated from other Muslim settlements elsewhere in the archipelago, thus their visual identity remained fairly static. Initially the colonial government did not attempt to introduce schools into Muslim negeri. As a result the Muslim community was deprived of the type of education that provided prestigious jobs to Christian Ambonese. This created a great economic divide between Muslim and Christian societies.45 Those Christians who accepted employment within government jobs or European fi rms were therefore exposed to various western dress standards. Being excluded from these positions less money was available for the Muslim community to spend on dress. It is quite telling that very little visual material has survived showing members of the Muslim community during the latter part of colonial rule. By and large the Dutch were not really interested in recording their lifestyle46 and the community itself had few fi nancial means to document their daily lives.47

47

CHAPTER TWO

Ethnic dress in all its ‘nakedness’, as well as Muslim dress, equalled technological, economic and educational (and therefore social) stagnation. However, in the case of women’s clothing these indicators were much more subtle and varied. Unlike Ambonese lower-working-class men, M who wore traditional dress of kain or pants with baju célah, and the Muslim men with their own distinct dress system, Christian Ambonese women’s levels of status were much more stratified, richer in ornamentation and physically more restricting.

Women’s wear Regular women’s daywear represented an outer surface of personal interpretation of Ambonese ethnic norms and values and it demonstrated strong association with Ambonese culture. The development of Ambonese women’s dress throughout Dutch colonial times is testimony to the independent, creative and visual position ethnic women occupied during this time. It is often assumed that Indonesian women belonged to the ‘less visible and audible half of mankind.’48 However, analysing dress examples in the Ambonese colonial context renders women − ethnic, western and Eurasians alike − visible and they make their intentions quite clear. The identities Ambonese women presented were manipulated in order to display an explicit ideological view of their ethnicity in ethnic colonial society, despite the fact that this visual Amboneseness was under constant threat of dissolving. Ethnic women resolved this threat by creating a visual image referent to idealized notions of cultural Ambonese values and traits, running directly against identity formation of Eurasians and Dutch-educated women, who adopted western dress. The development of a traditional Ambonese dress style by women also candidly contravened the visual image Ambonese men displayed when they embraced western clothing and embodied western characteristics.

48

2.29 M

The lower working class also included other Asians, such as the Chinese and other ethnic Indonesians like the Butonese who lived in vast numbers in the central Ambonese area. According to the census of 1930, some 12% of the population of the Ambonese islands were Butonese, 3.5% were European, 9% were of other ethnic Indonesian background and 3.6% were Asians such as the Chinese (Chauvel 1990:3).

2.30

2.29 Nona Passar with water jug, 1900 2.30 Tolk family maid peeling potatoes, Ambon,1914

DISCIPLINED DRESS

The resulting dress repertoire was a strong statement by Ambonese women of their gender, their ideas about ethnicity and their resolve to place first of all their culture, secondly their social position, and thirdly femininity at the centre of Ambonese colonial society, clearly celebrating Amboneseness and womanhood. Sociocultural meaning of women’s dress was understood within ethnic society, and layers of social significance were demonstrated through particular items, ensembles and combinations. Ambonese women’s social status was mobile, unlike men’s positions, which were fi xed. Women did not only adopt the status of their husbands through marriage, daughters could also assume a specific rank once their parents bestowed it upon them.49 Within this context a broad hierarchical structure ensued. The different socioeconomic levels commanded prescribed dress ensembles and corresponding embodied regulations; uniquely the various social orders were labelled according to specific items of clothing.

Nona Kebaya Working-class women, those who tended garden plots and were employed by the Ambonese middle class and the colonial elite in such jobs as nannies, cooks, kitchen hands and seamstresses, were commonly known as blootvoeters (barefooters), Nona Kebaya (Mrs Kebaya) or Nona Passar (market girl). Initially indigenous Ambonese women wore a bark cloth wrap around their hips, held in place by a thin piece of rattan. Sometimes a short hipwrap made of pandanus palm leaves was worn. With this ensemble a red or black cotton baju célah with a kain Makassar (chequered kain originating from Makassar) was worn, especially by those women employed within a colonial context like household staff to colonizers or coolies in the VOC. The women went barefoot unless they had to travel long distances, then sandals made of the bark of the sago tree or the fibrous exterior of the gemutu (palm) tree were worn.50

At the start of the twentieth century the majority of women – at least those in the towns and cities on the island − had stepped out of their bark cloth cidako and wraps and uniformly adopted the baju célah and kain combination as ‘even in the dusun [remote country settlement] they were ashamed to show themselves naked.’51 At times they exchanged their baju célah for a black kebaya panjang, the wide, long-sleeved jacket they pinned at the front. By the middle of the nineteenth century the Christian Nona Kebaya in her black clothes had become the most common sight in and around the central Moluccas. More often than not women wore a black baju célah as Christian missionaries and Ministers actively discouraged women from dressing in colourful clothing or wearing items of gold or silver jewellery.52 Married women, to distinguish themselves from jojaros (virgins), added a folded kain Makassar over their shoulders.53 A young indigenous girl wore her hair loose, but after marriage she twisted it in an unadorned kondéh (bun) at the back of the head. Nona Kebaya did not have different clothes for homewear or publicwear; she did however use specific items of dress during special occasions, such as life rite celebrations, Christian religious festivities, Queen’s Birthday celebrations and visits from government officials. During these occasions a Nona Kebaya wrapped a special kain salele around her hips. This kain was different in size than her kain palekat (chequered kain). The kain salele was a narrower piece of fabric of approximately 40 centimetres wide, usually a family heirloom, and was draped as a second kain from the waist over her regular kain. Baron van Hoëvell surmised that the colourful kain uti-uti was the original kain salele.54 Kain uti-uti was a sacred lap cloth, owned by the mother of the bride and worn by brides around their hips to ensure fertility.55 During the latter half of the nineteenth century it was already reported that this kain uti-uti was a rare cloth that was no longer locally produced.56 Women showed their worth by draping rare cloth around their abdomen, as this part of the body symbolized fertility, thus continuity of the clan.57

49

CHAPTER TWO

It was also common for Ambonese women to wear their wealth during special occasions; Sachse, Baron van Hoëvell and Riedel all commented on the tradition of wearing various baju and kains in layers during festivities. Jewellery consisted of necklaces and bracelets made from beads, seedpods and shells. For special occasions they attached bird of paradise plumes and feathers, as well as fragrant flowers of the sapalene, en puti, kupu pakuro and jasmine-sambac plants.58

Nona Duduk Rumah The Nona Duduk Rumah (literally ‘Mrs Stay-at-home’) was a Nona Kebaya who had been specially selected by her parents because she was good looking, smart and handy. She was trained in the areas of embroidery and flower decoration and generally oversaw the household. As the Nona Duduk Rumah was usually a girl from the interior there would be no chance of her attending one of the Dutch-language primary schools; instead she attended the Inlandsche (native) school. The only prospect of raising her status was to prepare her as an eligible wife in the hope that she would catch the eye of an appropriate suitor, such as the local teacher or assistant minister. She was typically an intelligent girl who was mild mannered and accommodating − attributes considered essential in a good wife. She often received training as a pengajar hari ahad (Sunday-school teacher).59 At home she wore the regular black kebaya or baju célah, but when she went out she wore a white long kebaya panjang over her kain palekat (chequered kain). The kebaya panjang closed at the front with three peniti kebaya (kebaya clips). Naturally she’d go barefoot. It was this daughter who received the jewellery handed down by her mother. 60 At special occasions this jewellery was worn to accentuate her beauty and to make her more (fi nancially) attractive. Most of this jewellery became part of the dowry when she married. Eurasians and women with European status fi rst wore the long-sleeved white kebayas during the early nineteenth century as domestic and public wear in Java. 61

50

2.31 Nona Kebaya, Ambon, 1900

DISCIPLINED DRESS

2.33

2.32

2.34

2.35

2.36

However during the last decades of that century ethnic women on Ambon who had been confirmed in the Christian faith started to wear white kebaya for special occasions. Association with Europeans and adoption of the Christian faith accelerated the opportunity for receiving European status; once this was gained it was represented by the wearing of the long white kebaya, signalling colonial alliance. During special occasions the Nona Duduk Rumah not only wore a baju and the short narrow kain salele over her regular kain; she also folded another kain lengthwise and draped it over her shoulders in such a way that the ends fell across her back. Around her kondéh (hair bun) she wrapped a bunga ron (a wreath of flower buds). Initially these were jasmine or cinkeh (clove) buds but later flower buds were carved from the pith of the papaceda bush.62 A bone, horn or tortoiseshell sisir (comb) adorned the top of her kondéh. 63 There was low tolerance for dress deviation; if a Nona Kebaya or Nona Duduk Rumah tried to emulate the fashion, jewellery or hairstyle of middle-class women, she was taunted and spat at by her peers, severely embarrassing parents and siblings. 64 This ensured that dress was tightly controlled within each level of society. But it was not only dress that was scrutinized − body posture was also closely inspected. When a woman attempted to display the kind of poise associated with a higher rank (even is she dressed according to her own rank) she was fi rmly scorned. N

Nona Cenela 2.37 2.32 Plain Kondéh (hair bun) 2.33 Kondéh with a jasmine Bunga Ron (wreath) 2.34 Nona Duduk Rumah 2.35 Patola cloth 2.36 Woven baskets 2.37 Jasmine

N

Many senior members of the Moluccan community in the Netherlands who were interviewed for this book insisted that this was still common practice among the Dutch Moluccan community.

Christian Ambonese middle-class women were named Nona Cenela (Mrs Slipper) after their shoes, the decorated toe slippers called cenela. The term cenela was derived from the Portuguese term clinela, (slipper) indicating that these shoes might have been known during the seventeenth century. According to Baron van Hoëvell: ‘The middleclass would often wear white stockings, with slippers of black cloth, called cenelas, with high heels and pointed upturned toes. 65 Middle-class women were typically Eurasians or ethnic women with European status, such as wives and daughters of the kepala soa, the man in charge of an administrative section of a village.

51

CHAPTER TWO

During the day Nona Cenela dressed in a long white or black polished cotton baju célah over a kain palekat, or a batik sarong imported from Java or Malaysia. Nona Cenela were the only ones allowed to wear the batiked sarongs, sometimes called sarong batik Semarang, indicating its Javanese origin. 66 The VOC, as well as Buginese traders and Chinese merchants, who plied the eastern Indonesian archipelago with fabrics from other parts of Asia, provided access to cheap cloth. Aristocratic batik designs were only available to members of royal Javanese households, therefore restricting access to batik materials and designs to elite groups. However during the second half of the nineteenth century many Chinese and Eurasian batik ateliers set up along the Javanese north coast and started to produce distinctive designs and patterns for use in Southeast Asia. 67 Not restricted by Javanese royal tradition, these batiks were developed according to the latest dye and printing technologies using remarkable colour schemes and intricate designs. Eurasian and Chinese women started to wear batiks designed with a myriad of colours featuring stylized images of birds and flowers borrowed from Chinese textiles or European pattern books. 68 Due to the development of the copper or wooden cap (stamp) these materials were now decorated much faster than when drawn by hand (batik tulis) making these colourful fabrics much cheaper and more readily accessible. 69 Sarongs selected by Ambonese women often featured an elaborate border pattern that was prominently draped on the side when the sarong was sewn into a kain. This resulted in the shortening of the kebaya to hip length so the designs were more visible. From the late nineteenth century regular daywear for Nona Cenela was a white, lacetrimmed kebaya or baju célah with a batik kain.70 The baju célah of a Nona Kebaya was distinctly different from the one worn by a Nona Cenela. Hers featured leg-of-mutton sleeves with a square set-in at the arm opening. It had long narrow cuffs, each closing with seven ball-shaped buttons.71 The cuffs were cut-in-one with the sleeve and tapered with small pleats. At home she always went barefoot.

2.38

2.39

2.38 Kondéh falungku hairstyle 2.39 Nona Kaus wearing leg ‘o mutton sleeves, Ambon, n/d 2.40 Woman in black Kebaya Cita, Ambon, 1868 2.40

52

DISCIPLINED DRESS

The difference in clothing between a Nona Cenela and common women was further emphasized by the quality and type of materials used. She could afford the fi ner woven kains and silk or glazed cotton chintz for her baju célah or kebaya cita.O The kebaya cita was made of black cotton, prepared with black bark juice and beaten with wooden mallets to produce a shine. Hairstyles also indicated socioeconomic and marital status. Even if the clothing appeared similar to that of a Nona Kebaya, a Nona Cenela was always recognisable by her hairstyle, jewellery and accessories. She always wore her hair swept in a kondéh falungku, (a fist-shaped bun). Late in the afternoon when receiving guests, a Nona Cenela exchanged her regular kain for her finest batik sarong topped with a white lace kebaya closed with three gold or silver peniti kebaya (pins). These peniti differed from the ones worn by a Nona Kebaya, in that they were linked together by a small chain. They were part of the jewellery set of her dowry. She decorated her hair with a bone or horn sisir (comb) and three silver or golden korkupings (hairpins), placed on the left side of the kondéh falungku. Once married she placed the korkuping on the right side. Korkupings were handed from mother to daughter; it is unclear where the designs originated. The most popular korkuping design is identical to the Dutch Zeeuwse knopje (Zeelandian knot). This is a pin that decorated the hats and scarfs of traditional women’s dress of Zeeland, a southern Dutch province. This pin has been dated as far back as the sixteenth century, a time when many Dutch ships plied the waters off the eastern Indonesian islands.72 It is highly likely that the design of the Zeeuwse knopjes originate from China or India but that the use of the Ambonese korkupings found its origin back in Zeeland as Zeeuwse knopjes were used in similar fashion to the way Ambonese women wore their hairpins.73

2.42

2.41

2.43

2.41 Peniti (linked kebaya clip) and korkuping hair pins 2.42 Sisir hair comb 2.43 Single (left) and married (right) Nona Cenela

O

Cita is derived from the Dutch term sits (chintz).

53

CHAPTER TWO

When paying a visit to friends a Nona Cenela completed her outfit with cenela, or if it rained she wore klom, P wooden-soled clogs with a narrow leather toe-strap that kept her feet clean and dry. A white lace square lenso (kerchief) was essential and outdoors she was never seen without her payung (sunshade). Cenela are synonymous with Ambonese dress. These small slippers manage to embody the multi-ethnic history of the Ambonese. They elicit a variety of responses as to their origin due to certain design features. As already noted, the name is derived from the Portuguese word clinela (slipper). Yet Galvâo referred to them in 1544 and thought of them as Chinese, Bartels called them Portuguese, Matitaputty assigned them Javanese origin and Munumete-Siahaya suggested they were Arabic.74 They are unique in their shape and appear to have undergone little change since fi rst sighted. As to the origin of these slippers, they can indeed be considered Chinese because of their decoration; they can also be considered Arabic due to their shape, yet at the same time they are reminiscent of the peaked shoe worn in Europe during the Middle Ages.Q They clearly refer to all these cultures and yet their unique shape has not been reported as worn or known in any other culture − Asian, European or Arabic − throughout history. Small as they are, these slippers embody characteristics indicative of the fusion of many foreign incursions and the transformation of these influences into modern Ambonese dress. Cenela feature double leather soles and a fabric tops, reaching just past the toes. The teardrop sole is shaped into a strongly upturned, pointed nose. Between the two layers of the leather sole are several layers of paper. The nose is made of coloured velvet or silk and features exquisite embroidery with gold couched thread and beading. The medium-high heel is made of cork or timber and fi nished with a leather sole. Crisp white piped binding defi nes the outline of the slipper and the instep. The cenela is an elegant slipper moulded around the contours of the toes. As such it takes some practice to walk in them, though when fitted snugly, movement becomes a lot easier.

54

A white lace square lenso (kerchief) was essential and outdoors she was never seen without her payung).

P

Klom is derived from the Dutch term klomp (clog).

Q

These peaked shoes reached their zenith during the fi fteenth century when their pointed toes could reach up to 30 centimetres. They became fashionable foot wear for men and were made of silk worn with the points fl at, or fi ne leather worn with the points turned upwards. During the sixteenth century they were the exclusive domain of women (Kybalova et al. 1968:65).

2.44 Lace lenso kerchief and sunshade

DISCIPLINED DRESS

R

2.45 Cenela slippers

Ambonsche Burgerschool (Ambonese middle-class school) was the local school where students were instructed in the Dutch language. Education at these schools provided an avenue for the children of non-elite families to gain prestige and wealth within a new colonially devised status system, ranked according to educational and occupational achievement (Chauvel 1990:31).

The cenela simultaneously conveys bondage and freedom, vulnerability and resilience. In one sense the slipper is the ultimate symbol of subjugation; it severely limits physical mobility and reduces the wearer to a slow, deliberate walk. Walking movements are made predominantly from the knees and ankles; the rest of the body is to be kept rigid. In Ambonese colonial society the cenela was used as a way of enforcing and demonstrating women’s leisurely status, it was a marker of status and signalled freedom. Cenela clad the feet of a woman who did not do any arduous work; she was free from manual labour and could spend her idle time with friends. The cenela became the symbol of female Ambonese middleclass society. These slippers might visually render the wearer vulnerable and fragile, but the way women moved in them showed their flexibility. Cenela gave women a virile and erect appearance, a bearing much prised in an essentially militaristic colonial society.75 The cenela also formed the link between East and West, between a shoeless, barefoot society and a shoe-clad society. This slipper, which in reality was not quite a shoe as it was really an extension of the toes, was in essence a leather sheath that cradled the tip of the foot, rendering the wearer helpless and allowing her to be desired by her colonizer. It was symbolic of the Moluccas, which, clad in colonial shoes, was left at the mercy of imperial power. Simultaneously the shoes indicated the mediating position these women occupied in Ambonese colonial society prior to the arrival of European women. Ambonese women have shown an indomitable resilience in the face of colonial structures. In an environment where cultural dominance by local men was replaced by cultural dominance by male colonialism, Ambonese women managed to adapt to their situation with sensitivity and remarkable insight. They were not directly employed in government positions, and therefore were initially unable to capitalize on this privilege. Yet, due to a lack of western women on the Ambonese islands, many local women managed to elevate themselves, or their daughters, to a desired middle-class status through education (learning Dutch), concubinism or marriage.

55

CHAPTER TWO

It was not uncommon for a family to select a daughter with specific qualities and send her to the Ambonsche Burgerschool.R Dutch education assured at the very least Nona Cenela status. Cenela and kain batik were the prerogative of Eurasian or Ambonese women with European status. Their special position in colonial society preserved colonial order and at the same time allowed sociocultural exchange. As indigenous people with European status these women formed a crucial part of an interfacing network between the colonizer and the colonized. They did not link Europeans with aristocratic families but with the local population by developing a separate elite community. Its allegiance to the colonizer was critical to the success of the colonial administration.76 As mentioned earlier, inter-ethnic alliances between European men and ethnic Ambonese women were fully supported by successive Dutch administrations S as it was reasoned that Asian wives and children would keep European men in the Indies. Eurasian children born and reared in the tropics were considered stronger and healthier; they were accorded European status if acknowledged by their father and baptized into the Christian faith. This made them eligible for government positions exclusively reserved for this group.77 Ambonese wives could therefore add to the Eurasian pool through the creation of an ever-larger community that remained loyal to the Dutch. The reward of such liaisons was European status, which meant more privileges than accorded to ethnic Ambonese women. Of course not all women married European men; many lived in a concubine relationship, which could be permanent or temporary. The nyai (housekeeper/concubine) facilitated the meeting of two worlds. There is no information about the relationships between European men and Ambonese women, as information about women of this particular ethnic group in European colonial households remains absent in literature. Status transformation of ethnic Ambonese to Eurasian via inter-ethnic unison was done in silence, yet these women must have made up a sizeable proportion of what was considered the Eurasian community in Ambon.T

56

The powerful social position of Nona Cenela in European households came to an end with the arrival of European wives after World War I. By that time the majority of Eurasian women and those with European status had already started to dress in western garments. Photographic evidence suggests that from the beginning of the second decade there was better access to western clothes, no doubt facilitated by better transport between the central Moluccas and the rest of the Indies.

Nyonya Kaus Elderly middle-class women (Nyonyas) wore a different type of slipper and hence were named Nyonya Kaus (Mrs Stocking). The term ‘kaus’ was derived from the Dutch word ‘kous’, which means stocking or, in the Old Dutch language, indoor slipper. An elderly Nona Cenela was never seen in cenela. Her footwear needed to defi ne her maturity and social position. As she became older her shoes needed to reflect her lifestyle, and walking was not one of those activities associated with her position. As her life became easier her footwear became a more decorative item indicating rank, instead of an item of use. In his treatise in 1544 Galvão referred to footwear which was later described by Baron van Hoëvell as ‘gold embroidered velvet mules made in Japan.’78 These were most likely kaus, as they appear to resemble Japanese slippers of that time.79 Kaus shows more Eastern influence than cenela. These toe-slippers with their blunt noses pointing straight up at a ninety-degree angle are made with pressed paper or cork between double leather unshaped flat soles. Covering the tops is fabric that tapers back along the edges of the foot, and the nose peaks high over the sole. They resemble more of a foot barrier than a shoe, as the foot comes to a grinding halt when slipped into these mules. They sport a more severe design than cenela, as the shoe tops are barely deep enough to cover the toes. Like cenela, kaus are also defi ned by white piped binding. The shape of kaus, however, does not allow one to keep the shoe on the foot. Because they are not shaped or fitted to the toes, kaus reduce women to shuffling, holding onto the slipper with a forward thrust of the foot.

DISCIPLINED DRESS

2.46

T

The 1930 census indicates that 7,318 (2.85%) of the population in the central Moluccan area was considered European, with the majority (1878) living in Kota Ambon. Of these Europeans it is presumed that the majority were Eurasians and Ambonese with European status (Volkstelling 1936 V: 21, 41, 92 139-140; cited in Chauvel 1990: 3).

U

A white cotton boat-necked top with 3/4 sleeves. This garment was shaped with small French pleats at the front, closed with mother of pearl buttons and edged all around with tatting or crochet lace. Exquisite Madeira embroidery featured at the back of the garment.

V

A white cotton sleeveless camisole top, shaped with small French pleats and closed with small mother of pearl buttons at the front. It featured crochet or tatted lace around the top and bottom. The thin shoulder straps would also be fi nished with either tatting – or crochet lace.

2.47

S

2.48

In the seventeenth century the VOC imported Asian slaves and placed them in the Vrouwenhof (women’s quarters) near Batavia (Jakarta). These women were made available to VOC employees for purchase as brides. Once bought, they were baptised and given the nationality of their husbands; all children born from this liaison were considered European (Taylor 1992:252).

Kaus were the ultimate statement of maturity, wealth and status, and Nyonya Kaus (or Nona Rok, see below) were the only women allowed to wear these slippers. 80 Kaus demanded exquisite control of movement. The wearer had to move very slowly, erect and seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. The shoes gave women a statuesque posture; regular walking pace or squatting was totally out of the question. Like adat, which is based on precise principles and steps of engagement, wearing kaus involved precise unison of measured steps and body movements. 81 Ultimate physical control was needed to move in these slippers. Exemplary control of the body was an indication of the ideal norms of physical and mental behaviour expected within Calvinist ascetic society and was readily adopted by Christian Ambonese. Control of passion was embodied in control of movement and the absence of gesticulation. Nona Kaus, representing the older generation, were to move slowly, were not to be distracted, move their head, turn around or look sideways. They were restraint, focused, calm and collected. 82 In the comfort of her private quarters, a Nyonya Kaus wore her black silk kain or kain Makassar, topped with a white silk or fi ne cotton baju célah. This baju featured the leg-of-mutton sleeves similar to those worn on special occasions by Nona Cenela. Hair was tied in a kondéh falungku (fist-shaped bun), decorated with three korkupings (hairpins). If the hair was thinning, a cemara (false hairpiece) provided the volume needed to display the korkupings.83 At home her feet were bare. In the afternoon and evening Nyonya Kaus dressed in a fi ne batik sarong with a white lace kebaya panjang. This long kebaya was made of white cotton broderie anglaise or machine lace. As the material was open lace, a ciolé U or kutang V was worn underneath. These undergarments were made of thin white cotton edged with exquisite lace and lavishly embroidered at the back. 84 2.46 Kaus slippers 2.47 Friar Galvão, (1739-1822) 2.48 Three Nyonya Kaus in white Kebaya Panjang, 1900

57

CHAPTER TWO

The sarong was held up with a tali kain, a narrow, long strip of fabric, wound around the hips like a belt. The kebaya closed with three linked peniti pins. Her white stockinged feet slipped into kaus. The essential lenso (kerchief), made of the fi nest linen and edged with tatted or needle lace, was folded and held at the centre, allowing the lace to drop away elegantly from the hand. Jewellery consisted of gold or silver rings, necklaces and bracelets, and hair ornaments included three korkupings and a sisir (comb). The position of the korkupings and sisir indicated marital status: a married woman placed one korkuping on either side of the kondéh and the third one on top; she did not wear a sisir. A widow placed her sisir on the top and all three korkupings on the right side. 85 On outdoor trips Nyonya Kaus’ complexion was often shielded from harsh sunlight by a payung (sunshade) held by a Nona Cenela. During special occasions Nyonya Kaus wore a silk kain selongkan, a festive kain threaded with gold or silver yarn. She topped this off with a kain salele and wrapped a white tali kain around her waist. The tali kain was a long strip of fabric about 20 centimetres wide and fi nished with sharp crochet-edged points. It was positioned in such a manner that the points draped over the left hip and fell down to the knee. This item had the same function as the udet (girdle) worn by Javanese women: it secured the kain or sarong. 86 The distinct difference was that the tali kain was wider than the udet, sometimes it was entirely crocheted rather than woven, and the points were not fringed. As with the udet, the points of the tali kain peeked from beneath the kebaya. This one was always white, either silk or cotton broderie anglaise worn with a white ciolé (chemise) underneath. Hair was pinned befitting the woman’s status, with three korkupings, a gold or silver sisir and a bunga ron (wreath) wrapped around her kondéh falungku. All other accessories were the same as those worn with her day dress.

58

Nona Rok Upper-middle-class women were traditionally the wives of the local minister, the rajah (the head of the negeri) or Eurasians. They were named Nona Rok (Mrs Skirt) or Nona Plooi (Mrs Pleat).87 Plooi (pleat) and Rok (skirt) are Dutch terms referring to the pleated skirt worn by these women. Their unmarried daughters dressed as Nona Cenela. Again, the name of this group reflected nomenclature of one of their dress items. Although Eurasians were legally of equal standing with the western community, in reality they were not treated as social equals as they were not totok (full blood European). 88 The unique response to this dilemma of status recognition was the development and adoption of garments that reflected a successful union of advanced technology with traditional clothing and accessories. This tangible expression of dress tradition was equivalent to the cognitive social status of these women. The outfit of Nona Rok became demonstrative of their flexibility and resourcefulness; it proved the ultimate vehicle of creative innovation. Her dress ensemble was an exquisite balance between the opposing notions of tradition and modernity, the old ethnic past and a new ethnic future. This hybrid fashion served to underscore the importance of the position of these women: they simultaneously presented the past as well as the future. The majority of Nona Rok served as members of church councils and some worked as teachers in schools. These were highly soughtafter government-sanctioned positions, making these women much admired in the local community. Their prestigious jobs elevated these women to the highest Christian ethnic status. Whereas a wife of a teacher was Nona Cenela or Nona Kaus, a teacher could claim to be a Nona Rok; thus her specific dress style was an indicator of economic and educational achievement. The rok was a stiffly pleated tubular skirt made of a length of cotton or silk batik material. A fabric featuring a border pattern was chosen and if this was unavailable a contrasting fabric acting as a border would be sewn lengthwise onto the material before pleating.

DISCIPLINED DRESS

2.49

2.50

2.49 Nona Rok with pleated skirt and attendant, 1830 2.50 Rok pleating details

At a Chinese laundry the fabric was starched with glutinous rice water and pleated with fi ne folds of approximately ½ centimetre wide. It was then fed through a mangle which ironed and pressed the pleats into the fabric. This pleated fabric was sewn into a tube with a drawstring hem at the top. The rok was worn with a white kebaya over a ciolé and white stockings. As the pleats were not permanently pressed but drenched in starch, the fabric resembled the stiff paper, making this fabric a modernized version of (and comparable to) bark cloth. During the day, Nona Rok used a tali kain (fabric belt) around her skirt, and white stockinged feet adorned with black kaus. 89 Three linked peniti closed her regular white lace kebaya and gewangs (small mother of pearl earrings)90 graced her ears. Only ethnic women of European status could wear earrings. Hair was twisted in an unadorned kondéh bulang (also named kondéh besar). This was a large moon-shaped bun, frequently shaped over a cemara (false hairpiece).91 The large shape of the kondéh marked her status, and naturally a white lenso (kerchief) completed the outfit. When visiting, Nona Rok replaced the tali kain with a pinggang mas, a silver or gold link belt. She would wear a white lace kebaya with ciolé underneath. As she enjoyed higher rank than Nona Cenela or Nyonya Kaus she wore an additional korkuping. For single women all four hairpins fanned out in a semi-circle on top of the kondéh; for married or widowed women all korkupings were placed on the right hand side of the kondéh.92 A silver sisir (comb) completed the hair jewellery. Side-whiskers were carefully trimmed and twisted into a ‘J’ facing the earlobe. This anak rambutan or anak J was gelled down with the juice of the leaf of a waringin tree (Ficus benjamina).93 For special occasions Nona Rok wore her kaus, her best rok and white lace kebaya with ciolé. Her kondéh bulang (hairbun) was wrapped in a bunga ron (wreath) and her best karabus mas (large gold earrings) replaced the small gewangs. Her white lenso (kerchief) and payung (sun shade) put the fi nal touches to her dress.94

59

CHAPTER TWO

Through her unique appearance, Nona Rok celebrated her cultural roots as well as her personal achievements in a colonial world.

As the wearer combined this skirt with kaus, she submitted herself to severely restricted movements, which consisted of small shuffled steps, a ramrod straight posture with slow and deliberate motions.95 The body was not only physically restrained within the confi nes of dress; it was also socially controlled within the confi nes of status. Using her body as a social system Nona Rok defi ned her status by adopting unique dress as an alternative mode to western dress. The rok encouraged a particular style of movement and mental orientation towards the body, and in its uniqueness defi ned social standing. Nona Rok was the highest rank a woman could achieve within Christian Ambonese society. A fi ne sense of style, together with a deep-seated understanding and long experience of creative application, allowed Ambonese women to draw upon their personal and collective ethnic memory to create powerful symbols of cultural comment. These upwardly mobile ethnic Christian women who enjoyed independent means, maintained strong visual ethnic elements in their dress. Through her unique appearance, Nona Rok celebrated her cultural roots as well as her personal achievements in a colonial world. The emergence of women from Nona Cenela to Nona Rok not only reflected women’s marital and/or professional status, it helped them, with the use of garments and accessories, depict their new identity as members of the upper class. Although many of these women were able to wear western dress through legal status, their frequent use of the rok ensemble indicated their desire to reaffi rm and represent Ambonese ethnicity and culture.

2.52

2.51

W

60

Tangsi are the army barracks they called home; see (Bartels 1994) and (Chauvel 1990).

2.51 Nona Militair in Kebaya Rendah, 1939 2.52 Pinggang Mas, gold belt and buckle

DISCIPLINED DRESS

Nona Militair As the name implies, the wives of KNIL soldiers enjoyed a different status from other ethnic Ambonese women and they deliberately indicated their rank with their own style of dress, which featured distinctive Javanese elements. Most soldiers and their families were not stationed in the central Moluccas but on the islands of Java and Sumatra.96 The majority of them married Ambonese girls who quickly adapted to life in the tangsi (army barracks) where the families were stationed. Some of these Ambonese wives were daughters of Eurasians or came from Ambonese negeris, while others were daughters of the military and themselves born in the tangsi.W From the late nineteenth century the children of Ambonese soldiers received their education in the Ambonsche School, which provided a standard of education equal to that enjoyed by the elite in Ambon Town. The education was offered entirely in the Dutch language and the ability to speak, read and write in Dutch opened up many economic and social avenues to the children of indigenous KNIL soldiers, opportunities initially denied to their parents.97 There were also Javanese and Menadonese indigenous soldiers in the KNIL but a consistent recruitment drive from the late nineteenth century onwards increased the number of soldiers with ethnic Ambonese background. The Ambonese soldiers and their families enjoyed privileges over other indigenous soldiers. They received double enlistment pay, ‘European’ rations and superior uniforms.98 This favouritism gave them prestige within the Ambonese homeland and fuelled a feeling of superiority over non-military Ambonese. Consequently, it was only a very small step to defi ne this unique status visually. Due to the geographical locations of the tangsis, far removed from the central Moluccas, and the fact that some women were born and raised in these tangsis and had never set foot in the Moluccas, dress became heavily influenced with Javanese elements. At home the Nona Militair wore a white baju with a chequered kain, similar to those worn by Nona Kebaya. When visiting or during trips into town a batik sarong of Javanese origin and a fitted, tailored kebaya rendah (low kebaya) was worn.99

The kebaya rendah is distinctly different from the kebaya worn on Ambon. It is a more fitted, shaped garment just skimming the hips. The ¾ sleeves are narrow, reaching just below the elbow, and feature a curved rather than square shoulder inset. The front panels of this garment are edged with lace that culminate in a sharp point at the bottom. The kebaya is usually made of fi ne white batist, a slightly translucent fabric, veiling the richly worked ciolé worn underneath. The kebaya rendah closes with three separate peniti a little lower at the front than the ones pinned on the wider and longer kebaya panjang worn in the Moluccas.100 Usually the Nona Militair went barefoot; at times slippers with a leather strap over the toes were worn.101 This was a distinct difference from footwear worn on Ambon, where only Muslim woman wore leather sandals102 and Christian Ambonese wore the distinct cenela or kaus. The reason these women wore leather sandals might be that cenela or kaus were not produced on Java. Hair was always worn in a kondéh bulan, the same round bun at the back of the head as worn by a Nona Rok, crowned with a silver or gold sisir. For special occasions a bunga ron (wreath with flowerbuds carved from the marrow of the papaceda plant) decorated the kondéh and four korkupings fanned out on the top half on either side of the sisir.

Nona Jurk In the central Moluccas the elite class were the Eurasians married to westerners, who called themselves Nona Jurk (Mrs Dress); they wore full western-style clothing. The difference between these (usually Eurasian) women and Nona Rok was that they were married to European rather than Eurasian men.103 They mixed in the company of Europeans and therefore dressed accordingly. These women remained members of the upper echelon of Ambonese colonial society until European-born wives arrived in the early twentieth century and relegated them to the ‘intermediate society’ consisting of Eurasians and indigenous women with European status.104

61

CHAPTER TWO

Regular Ambonese daywear as worn until the early twentieth century defi ned a visual identity according to Ambonese perception of the self. Class structure in the central Moluccas was informed by nobility, religion, education, (military) service to the government, European status, gender and race. Ambonese and European dress was stratified according to these socially and culturally structured classes and vehemently adhered to. Traditional dress variants according to life rites, age, legal status, gender and education were reflective of the unique historical heritage of the Ambonese. Certain items included in these dress systems became status symbols and all indicated a sophisticated, creative approach in defi ning a unique visual identity that indicated sociocultural positioning within a colonial structure. Every dress system developed since European incursion demanded specific control of the body. The higher the social status within ethnic Ambonese context, the more embodied control was exercised, resulting in the stiff, measured movements of the Nona Rok which were reflected in the heavily starched pleats of the rok fabric. This combination of physical control and intercultural heritage ultimately defi ned dress outcomes and resulted in the design and development of dress pieces exclusive to the Ambonese. The western-dressed Nona Jurk exemplified elite status for women but, paradoxically, their physical control was not so strict as that required of Nona Rok. Western garments allowed for freer movement of body and limbs. The rigid posture associated with Nona Cenela, Nyonya Kaus and Nona Rok was not necessary. One could easily sit or ride a bicycle, walking in western shoes was much easier that in cenela or kaus, and gesticulation (within reason) and turning the head was allowed; hence rigorous control of body movement, as exemplified when wearing Ambonese dress, was not transferred. With western dress came a whole different set of physical behaviours. This ‘freeing up’ of the body rendered the strict body control demonstrated when wearing Ambonese dress old fashioned, and it made the western, modernist body at once sophisticated and contemporary.

62

2.53

2.54

2.53 Nona militair with regular hairdo 2.54 Nona militair with adorned hairdo

DISCIPLINED DRESS

Muslim women’s wear

2.56

Muslim women did not indicate rank using dress styles, as their clothing was similar in style throughout the community; rather, it was the choice of dress materials and embellishment that indicated economic status. Muslim women’s dress developed according to traditional religious dress standards. Baron van Hoëvell observed that the main difference between Christian and Muslim women was the headscarf, and the fact that during Bulan Puasa (Ramadan), as well as in the mosque, all women wore white.105 There were however more notable differences in dress. Muslim women wore either a kebaya cina the black glazed cotton baju, over a colourful batik sarong. This baju was longer than the one worn by Christians and reached over the knee, though the overall shape was the same. Not so however with the kebaya, as theirs was more fitted and featured narrow sleeves and a more defi ned waist. Muslims closed their kebaya lower than Christians and they favoured large floral patterns in strong colours, so that, according to van Hoëvell, ‘there is no mistaking them for Christians.’106 This type of kebaya was more akin to the fitted style worn on Java.107 Feet were kept bare unless one was attending prayers. With their all-white prayer clothing they wore leather sandals, which they removed before entering the mosque.108 It is remarkable that Riedel and Sachse did not even consider Muslim dress, although both wrote descriptive notes on Christian and native appearances. For them the Muslims were invisible – a sad statement considering that at the end of the nineteenth century they made up 28.3% of the population.109 On the main island of Ambon, the Muslim population even topped 38%. This ignorance says much about colonial regard for the Muslim population, but little about their appearance. Prayer dress for women consisted of a white length of material draped around the waist as a kain. The upper body was totally concealed under a white long cape reaching the ankles. Underneath was a long-sleeved baju. Often the cape had a tight-fitting hood attached that covered the hair and was fi rmly pinned under the chin.

2.55

2.57

2.55 2.56 2.57 2.58

Muslim embroidery showing mosque Woman in Muslim prayer dress Mosque, Ambon, 1724 Multicoloured sarong favoured by Muslim Ambonese 2.58

63

CHAPTER TWO

If the hood was absent a separate white scarf was draped over the head to cover the hair and throat.110 The hands, feet and face were the only areas of the body that were visible; everything else was covered in loose white fabric totally concealing the body shape. There was no visual indication if a woman had made the pilgrimage to Mecca. Before entering the mosque every woman ensured that all jewellery was removed, the only visible body decoration allowed being hennacoloured fi ngernails and toenails. Hands and feet were extensively decorated with henna before a wedding; patterns were geometric as anything resembling living entities, such as flowers or animals, was forbidden. The use of henna was permitted as it allowed the skin and nails to breathe, unlike a lacquer.111 In accordance with the Koran, Muslim dress covered the whole body. This was especially true in the religious context as during prayer specific garments were to be worn over existing clothing. Editing out the body through layers of fabric called attention to those areas, which were exposed such as the hands, feet and face. Whereas Christian Ambonese women’s dress ensembles clearly indicated socioeconomic, marital and religious status, Muslim dress covered women, moving them from corporeality to a void. The use of perfumes, jewellery and makeup was not permitted and personal identity was obscured through cocooning. A Muslim woman denied her individual self and submitted to a religious self and dress was the medium used to achieve this position.

Body care and maintenance Physical control, body care and maintenance through the medium of dress have been considered in the context of the disciplined frame because these activities of physical control discipline a body into a particular mode. Within the context of the dress systems described in this chapter, the disciplining nature of these activities supports and characterizes the specific identity portrayed. Hygiene and physical maintenance is an extension of clothing and adornment because each is reliant on, and in turn determined by, the other in completing and confi rming a specific visual image. 2.59 Melatti (jasmine) fl owers

64

DISCIPLINED DRESS

Therefore body care regimes respond in the same manner as dress to the dimensions of control, desire, other-relatedness and self-relatedness. The term ‘care’ is in fact a misnomer, as the true meaning of the word is safeguarding or protection. A body care regime includes much more than safeguarding, protection or just grooming as people go through extraordinary lengths to mould and complete the body through hairstyles, makeup, adornment, etc. in such a manner as is deemed desirable in the context of place and time. For the Ambonese, sustaining a particular routine of care underscored their need to maintain a certain identity, and it was by and large from the perspective of personal hygiene that Dutch colonial views of Ambonese identity were constructed. From an Ambonese viewpoint it was socially and economically to their advantage to adopt western notions of cleanliness and beauty. Superstitious belief accorded great significance to body odour.112 Ethnic Ambonese considered body odour as an indicator – either positively or negatively – of purity of race and physical strength. Many believed for instance, that with the acceptance of Christianity body odour became more pleasant, though physical strength was reduced. As a result they defined three distinct scents based on religious belief: the strongest and most offensive smell emanated from heathens; a less offensive smell came from Muslims due to their use of incense; and the most pure of body odours was from Christians because of the use of holy baptismal water. In part, this purity was maintained through fasting and drinking vinegar mixed with hot spices before Maundy Thursday.113

Body care Western-style body care was part of an ethic inspired by Christian ascetics. Western olfactory management was linked to ‘cleanliness’ and became symbolic of Christian religious morality: a clean body was synonymous with religious purity. Odourising manipulated the body in such a manner that it was deemed acceptable within a western construct and racial and religious identity was defi ned by body odour. Smells considered foul from a western perspective stigmatized Muslims and heathens and confi rmed their lower

status, whilst at the same time justifying the superiority of those with a European status. A strict body care regime and the use of perfumes and oils supported and maintained the Christian Ambonese’s claim to a higher status than that of the heathen or Muslim. Thus besides dress, the use of appropriate perfumes and body care generated the social phenomenon of identity separation through odour. For the Christians this began with the symbolic Baptist cleansing and culminated in the use of spiced vinegar to cleanse the inside of the body and the use of incense and the burning of oil during Church services. Various and quite opposing descriptions of personal hygiene have been recorded. Sachse reported that many Alifuru suffered from skin disease related to their uncleanliness.114 Van Hoëvell also suggested that the Ambonese women were generally dirty but very fond of minyak (perfume) to add fragrance.115 Riedel was more explicit and indicated that the Ambonese did not clean their clothing but retained a very strict and extensive sanitary regime. According to Riedel they washed every day, sometimes twice, and scrubbed their bodies with pumice or soft sandstone.116 Soap, in the form of kayu sabun (soapstone), was also used. Bungga rampa (oils) extracted from melatti flowers, kananga blossom or pandanus trees were used to rub the skin. To powder the body after washing and oiling, batu bedak (river sand) from the Amahusu River was used; this sand was never to be sold but issued freely upon request.117 Teeth were brushed with batu bedak or pieces of pinang (areca nut) shell.118 Papar gigi, the practice of tooth filing was common, but by the end of the nineteenth century occurred only sporadically. Mouthwash consisted of water mixed with hot spices and during the day cardamom pits were used as a mouth freshener.119 Apart from a body enhancement routine, the Ambonese also tried to change physical attributes of the body. For instance, newly born babies often had their flat, broad noses pulled and rubbed upwards to encourage the development of a ‘European’ nose.120

65

CHAPTER TWO

The prime reason was self-satisfaction: it was important to display membership of various class levels in Ambonese society.125 From an Ambonese perspective different ensembles depicted various layers of socioeconomic rank within this stratified cultural milieu. From a western perspective, they were merely viewed as ‘truly Ambonese’,126 ,native’127 or ‘Indonesian’.128 The westerners did not observe differentiation in styles and implementation, either subtle or obvious and status associated with dress variation was not recognized.X Written European documentation on dress focused largely on those people who dressed in a western manner, displayed appropriately embodied traits and behaviour, and exercised commensurate body maintenance regimes. All dress styles described in this book share the same characteristic: their usage was governed by adherence to specific images. These identities were constructed through, or as a response to, socioeconomic, political and religious influences, mediated by ethnic culture and embodied experiences. The identities discussed in this chapter were by and large entered into voluntarily. Digression did evoke the wrath of the community, but the desire to belong proved the greatest incentive. Adherence to identity within a specific ethnic group was recognized and rewarded with social acceptance, prestige and in some cases envy. Observance of precise dress description and corresponding body-disciplining techniques perpetually redefi ned Ambonese identity. Continual need to belong and to represent Ambonese identity dominated the individual, creating a self-invoked subordination. This dependence justified the necessity to belong and in turn kept this lack in awareness; as long as the desire to belong remained, Ambonese identity made visible through specific dress and adornment continued.

Hair care Young girls had their hair kept short, but from puberty onwards, hair was long. It was generally worn loose until marriage, at which time it was always worn in a kondéh. Hair was rubbed daily with santen (coconut shavings) and conditioned for at least one hour,121 then washed with a mixture of coconut milk and Citrus hystrix (kaffi r lime) extract to obtain shine.122 When the hair was styled it was gelled with the viscous juice of the leaf of a waringin tree to straighten the kinks. Often hair was plucked away from the forehead. Body hair was sparse due to the frequent use of pumice stone and hair under the armpit was plucked; hair around the pubic area was not removed for fear of impotence.123 Young boys wore their hair long and, until the late nineteenth century, men from the interior wore their long hair swept up and twisted around the shell of a coconut. Often a red scarf was tied around the chignon and fastened with a bamboo strip decorated with shells and plumes. Christian adults by contrast, cut their hair short and styled it according to western fashion of that time.

Conclusion Day-to-day dress styles of ordinary Ambonese men and women were mediated by rationalization of ethnic culture and regimentation of the self. The desire for the Ambonese to adhere to prescribed dress styles not only maintained these distinctive styles but also announced membership of ethnic group, religion, age, marital and socioeconomic status. These styles of dress were predictable to the Ambonese self because they were understood by the individual and recognized by the collective. The community did not tolerate attempts at deviation from these constructed identities, which were in fact digressions of the self. Dissociation from the self and association with the ethnic group was vital for these identities to remain intact. Although visual identity was associated with the particular ethnic group one belonged to, it was primarily directed at the self: the need to belong was the prime motivation and the medium used was dress, enhanced by a particular regime of body maintenance.

66

X

All of the historical and contemporary documentation of Ambonese culture researched for this project have failed to identify the fact that various Ambonese dress ensembles indicate cultural and socioeconomic status.

DISCIPLINED DRESS

67

Dominating Dress

CHAPTER THREE DOM I NATI NG DR ESS

‘They

shall walk in black – the blackness of God’s destruction.’ John Calvin, 1579

CHAPTER THREE

V

arious phenomena have given rise to distinct Ambonese clothing systems that can be considered as ‘dominating’ dress forms, according to the proposed typology. Colonial Ambonese society visually delineated ethnicity, marital and socioeconomic status, as well as religious affiliation through various dress ensembles. The longing for association with, and displaying visible membership of a specific social class, determined the use of particular styles of dress and body-maintenance techniques. Dayto-day dress was characterized by its employment of a carefully choreographed regime. This was an act generated by the wish to be perceived as being of Ambonese or European background. This wish was self-fulfi lling because, although identity was associated with ethnicity, it addressed a personal desire to belong and to display that belonging. The use of ‘disciplined’ dress styles as discussed in the previous chapter was directed towards the community and monadic in that the act of dressing fulfi lled this personal need. This is in sharp contrast to the ensembles discussed in this chapter. Force, perpetuated by constant anxiety or fear, is a determining factor used in the development and usage of the ensembles considered within the ‘dominating’ frame. ‘When internal discipline can no longer neutralize the threat of its own contingency, disciplined [dress] may turn to domination.’1 Dominating dress is the consequence of a wearer’s fear of demise of identity. Characteristic of this threat is continuous anxiety over loss of identity, which ultimately results in social exclusion. This threat can be a spontaneous personal or collective experience and is intentionally constructed. In order to alleviate this threat-enforced form of dress is unvaryingly accepted.

70

3.02

3.04

3.03

3.02 Fort Duurstede, Saparua, 1846 3.03 Franciscus Xaverius, 1506-1553 3.04 Woven baskets

DOMINATING DRESS

3.05

This chapter begins with an analysis of Ambonese and European dominating dress according to the dress typology. The remainder of the chapter is divided in three sections: the fi rst section analyses dress styles worn within religious contexts during the last century of Dutch colonial rule; the second section examines dress styles adopted by those Ambonese who enlisted in the military and the last section explores the development and implementation of the white colonial suit that became a business uniform of sorts for the European and government elite.

Dominating dress styles within a colonial Ambonese context

3.06

3.05 Alifuru woman, West Ceram, 1910 3.06 Alifuru woman, Ceram, 1880 3.07 Alifuru dancers, Ceram, 1910

3.07

Dress worn during religious practice, military uniforms as well as the so-called ‘tropical suit’ were the ultimate sartorial exemplars of classified and organized collective selves, desires, behaviours, and social relations. Its shared feature was its usage; stripped of his or her clothing, the individual was denuded from collective discourses and doomed to disappear into a void. Being of Ambonese culture and simultaneously in the military, government and/or religious society required rigorous discipline of the Ambonese self. An authoritarian dress regime turned ever more forceful, as the continuous need to belong and perform was dependent on physical, mental, spiritual, and visual subordination; total submission was expected. Non-conformity was punishable by expulsion and as a result the ensuing dress systems were predictable in their form and outcome. Not even minute variations were tolerated. For this complete subservience to exist, total and complete deference to a superior ‘other’ was needed. This servitude was fuelled by the fear of exclusion. Elimination from the army, government position or private business, or excommunication from the Church meant a severe loss of income, no religious deliverance and loss of family and community standing. Lack of agency in the formulation of the individual was sustained through submission to this fear. Recursively, it was this lack that created people who maintained close adherence to prescribed identities, values, beliefs, and behaviours.

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Disciplinary power was externally created and it imposed an internal surveillance system that was used to take care of the self through appropriate dress systems and maintenance regimes of the body and the soul (and, one could argue, the mind). This was exemplified through specific garments, deportment, and religious demeanour. Each ensuing dress system was therefore completely dissociated from the self and dyadic in nature. Identity was not projected towards the self but towards the ‘other’. Thus the fear of the individual unable to claim acknowledgement of membership typified the relationship between continuous lack and submission in forcefully grafting identity. The need to appear exactly the same as anyone else necessitated predictable dress styles; how else could one conform?

Dress worn in a religious context In the central Moluccan islands dress worn within the context of religious ceremonies was an expression of obedience to God or the Prophet Muhammad. Christian or Islamic practice prescribed a doctrine that involved total submission and self-denial. This propagated a lifestyle that included dietary practice, precise dress code, specific forms of behaviour, religious ritual and pious devotion. Departure from one or more of these interlinked practices promised eternal damnation, characterized by anxiety and fear, which led to perpetual subordination. It was this threat, cultivated by religious leaders that ensured total compliance. With the adoption of religion, salvation became an eternal quest. The crucial factor was not so much the pursuit of deliverance, but the motivation of this need. Subordination became simultaneously a medium and an outcome; religious teaching justified subordination, thus incessantly recreating lack. This lack can be best described as a threat of reverting to heathendom. The cost of maintaining a sense of self and of ethnicity was the continuous anxiety of loss of religious identity. Religion demanded full submission that repudiated personal identity. Consequently religion, unable to continually employ control, enforced dress, body and spiritual command.

72

The Ambonese, by accepting Christian or Muslim religion, acknowledged and accepted its domination. Since mediaeval times Christ’s body has become a powerful metaphor in Christian religion. Bodily display of constraint became a crucial element in indicating religiosity. The introduction of colonial rationality based on Christian principles required the suppression of bodily desire. The quest for salvation is paramount, as in Christian and Islamic teachings bodily joys are to be sacrificed for the salvation of the soul. Salvation is an eternal quest as inner control and discipline can never be reached, thus the sense of lack is continuous. Ambonese attitudes towards covering the body were strongly informed by religious doctrine. Outward expression made visible the inner struggle of incessant redemption and this was conceptualized in clothing. In the Moluccan islands this resulted in creative and unique visual identity constructions. White Muslim prayer clothes and the black garments worn by Christian Ambonese women signified in particular the organization of sexual activity. Encapsulating the body placed the individual in a sexless nothingness, a neat separation (obliteration) of the temporal self from the social world. The temporary body became momentarily suspended. During this transience it accepted domination. The Ambonese dominated themselves as much as they were dominated by their religion. Domination facilitated full submission to the teachings of the Bible or the Koran (after all, the term ‘Islam’ comes from the Arabic aslama, which means ‘to surrender’). Inability to gain deliverance from earthly sins in this life produced a perpetual desire to aspire to a better eternal life in the hereafter. The threat of failure in securing spiritual enlightenment became an object of fear manipulated in a never-ending quest. Within a religious context, the white prayer dress of the Muslims, the black garments worn by the Christian Ambonese and in a sense the colourful clothing of the Europeans and those with European status, although showing vastly different religious images, were in fact constructed with the same intent: to display domination of the self.

DOMINATING DRESS

3.08

3.09

A

3.08 Alifuru dancers, Ceram, 1910 3.09 Alifuru woman, Ceram, 1880

The Christian Ambonese saw their new God as an essential source of supernatural force; Christianity was not experienced in competition with their animistic beliefs, rather both were practised alongside one another (Bartels 1994:209).

Grand ceremonies of colonial rule represented power and authority in colour and style; dress was used effectively as a marker of race, gender, religion and social rank. What Christian missionaries and ministers who settled in Ambon since the sixteenth century realized intuitively, was the concept that highstatus clothing signified an aura of moral virtue. The implication was that people who were uncivilized and backward through their nakedness possessed no moral virtue because they were not initiated into the Christian faith. To be clothed properly was to be Christian; to be Christian was to be civilized. Thus colonial desire to control extended into domination of personal identity, using dress regulation as a means of achieving visual ascendancy. Ethnic Ambonese dress development in the Christian religious context was an outcome of constant negotiation between, on one hand, Christian dogma, embodied experiences, association with the colonial government, gender and race assertion, and on the other, a strong allegiance to Ambonese history and traditional custom. Although Ambonese identity as such was not in immediate danger of being lost, A what was under threat in the context of religiosity was a sense of self. Through the forceful teachings of Christian missionaries the local population and the colonizers were continuously made aware of the supremacy of God. Traditional religious teachings centred on the premise that people were to submit towards the doctrine of the Church, for only total submission would deliver redemption from the power of sin and the penalties ensuing from it. Thus there was an eternal struggle between being oneself and living according to Christian canon. Missionaries had embraced religious life and their monastic lifestyle exemplified this. Ascetic fasting, abstinence, austere dress and pious devotion marked their religiosity. This discipline of self-denial became a prevailing symbol for the local community. It became synonymous with power, prestige, colonial acknowledgement and wealth, as well as spirituality, hope, and faith in a better future, if not on this earth then at least in heaven by way of repentance.

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CHAPTER THREE

Between the discourses of religion and Ambonese ethnicity, perpetual (re)defi nition of personal and social identity, ethnic women recognized a space and managed to develop a dress system which simultaneously identified their religion, Amboneseness, and social and economic status. Ambonese dress within the context of religion was dyadic, as dress and embodied experiences were dissociated from the self and associated with religion. Accordingly, within the Ambonese religious context, dress systems and embodied behaviour developed which, in the case of Ambonese Christians, are unique within dress systems used by other Indonesian ethnic societies.

Early western accounts of Christian Ambonese dress When Portuguese missionaries arrived during the seventeenth century they were horrified by the near nakedness of the heathens and set out systematically to convert and clothe the local population. This long-term development could be interpreted as two competing civilizing processes: one that considered nakedness as an outer manifestation of inner backwardness and heathendom; and another which considered backwardness as the inner manifestation of the naked, the undressed, the uncivilized.2 Equating nakedness with the primitive, savage, uncivilized mind they introduced their own clothing systems to the local population, who willingly obliged and modelled themselves on the Europeans in language and dress.3 The introduction of Christian rituals, moral discipline and work ethic was exemplified in discipline and regimentation of the body. The colonizers tried to govern the people through religious control and this control ultimately translated into the control of bodies. Catholic Portuguese priests, and later Calvinist Protestant ministers and missionaries, increasingly used dress to set themselves and their followers apart so common folk could identify their positions within a developing hierarchy. This helped announce and establish their roles in various activities of the Church.

74

3.10

3.11 3.10 Alifuru, Hoekoe Anakota, West-Ceram, 1923 3.11 New Dutch Church, Ambon, 1724

DOMINATING DRESS

3.12

3.13

3.12 Nona Cenela dressed for church, 1923 3.13 Native missionary assistants on Buru Island, n/d

It was during the seventeenth century that current Moluccan religious dress found its origin, as ‘the practice of wearing black robes to Church stems from the Portuguese days and remains even to this day.’4 Missionaries had long regarded the wearing of special dress as an integral part of the enactment of the role of the priest and his flock, and they perceived nonconformity as a rejection of sacred values and a threat to the Church as an institution and thus by extension, a threat to colonial power. Control and conformity was concluded in the form of external control through specific items of clothing, colour use, the manner in which clothing was placed on the body, and the effect items of clothing had on the body. By prescribing items and use of dress, the mind (internal body) was being controlled through the physical (external) body. During colonial times distinctive dress for religious rituals such as confi rmation, marriage and worship became customary. Dress was used as a symbol of social and political control, because it regulated the visuality of the body and clearly cited evidence that the wearer was ‘on the right and true path.’5 The Dutch, who found their way to the Moluccan islands by 1602, introduced a reformist puritan attitude towards life and this was expressed in severely pared-down dress. When conquering the Moluccas by 1605 the Dutch made sure to retain the Christian religion; however they systematically set out to convert Catholic Moluccans to their own Protestant Calvinist faith. This conversion was enforced by the VOC, which banned Catholic missionaries to the region. 6 Nonetheless it seemed that they were more successful in converting ethnic animist people rather than those in Islamic strongholds. The key reason for this was that the introduction of Christianity to heathen villages was considered conversion to a ‘new’ and ‘fi rst’ religion, an experience similar to the introduction of Islam into villages that came in contact with religion for the fi rst time. Village chiefs were usually the fi rst to adopt Christianity as they immediately and directly benefited from this conversion. It allowed them to assume a measure of political power, thus increasing personal status and prestige.7

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Christian missionaries promoted their own ethnocentric perceptions of appropriate behaviour and dress sense through coercion, and by doing so guided the political acculturation of the indigenous Ambonese population. Ethnic dress worn during Christian religious services became over centuries a unique and defi ning ingredient of the identity of Ambonese Christians who had quickly realized that economic and social benefit could be gained from close association with the colonizers through Christianity. By adopting the Calvinist faith the Ambonese ‘not only symbolized their closeness to the Dutch, but set them apart and above other Indonesians as civilized people among barbarians’, 8 The Ambonese needed a symbol to assist a daily remembrance of what they were, who they were and most importantly, who they were in the eyes of other ethnic cultures. The black dress became the most potent identity marker for the Christian Ambonese in the Indonesian archipelago. Although the majority of travellers, government officials and scholars have presented little description of Christian Ambonese dress, almost all remarked on the fact that the clothing they observed was black.9 Riedel, travelling in the Moluccas in the nineteenth century noted that ‘the use of coloured cloth, velvet and silk as well as gold and jewellery were discouraged or outright forbidden by the leaders of the Christian population.’10 Confronted with a colourful spectacle, the religiously minded identified colour with pagan reminiscence, Islamic identity, and possibly even black magic and thus set out to redefi ne bodily awareness and its attachment to the material world. Being the direct opposite of white (the colour of Islam), black became a powerful visual statement; it not only identified the wearer with the Church but also with the colonizer. Association with the Dutch brought material welfare and status to the Ambonese. This close alliance separated them from the Muslim population and ultimately divorced them politically from other ethnic groups within the Indonesian archipelago.

76

The symbolic nature of the colour black not only pronounced a religious context of piety, atonement and penitence, but also emphasized clearly and visually the political dependence of the ethnic population upon the goodwill of the colonizer. Development of dress worn at Church services was ultimately conditioned by colonial-religious identity domination. In fact the Ambonese did not only wear ethnicity on their bodies, they used their bodies to define ethnicity through their gait and demeanour.B The combination of dress specifically worn during Church services and their pious religious reverence was embodied in the physicality of their personal presentation. For example when attending Church, women were to walk with slow small measured steps; they were to stare straight ahead and not gesticulate, move the head sideways or turn the upper body around. Once seated in her pew women were not to glance around.11 Christian Ambonese dress design was based on Catholic Portuguese and Spanish dress of the early seventeenth century. It was the type of dress the Portuguese missionaries would have seen their parishioners wear back home. During these times the Spanish crown frowned on lively movement and gaiety and this attitude was clearly evident in the severe, dark, monotonous shades and constricting fashion. The clothing was mainly black with small flashes of white in the form of elaborate lace kerchiefs and white ruff collars. Because the colour scheme did not allow for glorious hues or the sumptuous fabrics, decoration of exquisite embroidery and fine lace became the only mark of distinction. Strict etiquette required legs and neck to be completely covered and posture to be kept rigid. Stripped from any colour this resulted in a harsh dignity of appearance.C Dutch Reformed ministers, who started to convert the Ambonese Catholics as soon as they arrived in the central Moluccan islands, adapted this Portuguese view on dress by paring the overall effect down even further, according to their own religious views. As a result Ambonese dress became strongly informed by Dutch Calvinist-Protestant ascetic/monastic attitudes towards the body. The Ambonese successfully combined religious morals and values with their own ethnic ideology. Adat principles are the

DOMINATING DRESS

most essential ingredients in the maintenance of Ambonese social and cultural order, and during Adat ceremonies religious prayers and Christian representation became the norm. Synchronization of Adat with Christianity resulted in a unique interpretation of religion. For the Ambonese, the new realities of Christianity did not confl ict but rather complemented Adat tradition because many of the medieval Christian rituals and mystique reminded the Ambonese of their own rituals; thus absorption of a new religion was not met with great resistance.12

3.14 Village church scene B

Many Moluccans recognize each other by their walk. It’s a potent identity marker among the community. Descriptions vary from ‘a stagger, a gait, a slow precise statuesque stride, slow jumping moves, a swing, a cool move, a determined slide, a fast hip-swaying walk’ to ‘a normal walk but different’ (Bartels 1989:322-333).

C

From the sixteenth to the early twentieth centuries Catholicism and Protestantism in Europe was clearly defi ned and expressed through specific dress codes. The Portuguese introduced the colour black into the Moluccan religious sphere, which set the Christians apart from the Muslims and the animist population. In Europe the colour black had entered religious orders, as black epitomized chastity and sobriety. This association was emphasized when Emperor Charles V and King Phillip II of Spain, both famous for their monastic sobriety in dress, exclusively wore black (Laver 1986:88). Dominance of Spanish (Catholic) fashion in Europe was politically based: ‘its hegemony was bound up with the powerful position of the Spanish Empire’ (Kybalova, Herbenova, and Lamarova 1968:163).

D

The Dutch frown on circumcision and considered it a barbaric act only exercised by Jewish or Islamic people.

The colonial government and the European ministers and missionaries tolerated this pastiche of Christian religious beliefs with Adat principles since this acceptance made sound economic sense: it facilitated loyalty and devotion to the colonial government.13 Ludeking (1886) wrote ‘it is not unusual to hear of Christian Ambonese who have christened one child and left the other as a heathen. Or, as happens in Amboina, parents christen their children and then still have them circumcized’ D like Muslims.14 The infusion of a colonial power system into a religious context through the adoption of black dress cut deep into the Ambonese psyche. Because by controlling the religion of the Ambonese, the colonizer attempted to control the innermost being of their subjects, and dress used for religious ceremonies made visible the inner being on the external self. The Ambonese surrendered themselves with gusto to the teachings of the Bible and discarded all worldly sins indicated by a dirty body for a new and enlightened spirit, a cleansed soul on virginal white feet. This sober dignity acknowledged the biblical quote ‘All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another because, God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.’15 Creationism legitimized submission and dress style; demeanour demonstrated religious obedience. Religious rituals reinforced dress regime, and the result was a seamless symphony in black. In fact it was so seamless and black that at times the people appeared invisible, swallowed by the blackness of the Church. Black was used as a symbolic signifier of transgression of divine law, while white clothing, the donning of light that guided you to deliverance, was only offered to a select few. Were it not for a few flashes of white objects worn on the body, the ethnic people might visually disappear forever. However it was precisely these flashes of white that gave humanity and dignity to the mass of black. With these small white sparkles the Ambonese were allowed some measure of personality and individuality.

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Wearing different garments underscored several important issues regarding status within Ambonese society and within the Church. Within the strict boundaries of their religious dress code Christian Ambonese could only show minute signs of individualism with decorative elements negotiated on small items such as lace edging on the kerchief or embroidery on sash and collar. At fi rst glance Christian Moluccan women all appear very similar. The subtle hints of status indicated by the shoes, the number of hairpins, the sash and collar can easily be overlooked by the uninitiated. All garments were black and only some textile accessories such as the kerchief for the females and the shirts under the jacket for the males were white. The black dress of the indigenous people of the central Moluccan islands of Indonesia ultimately epitomized John Calvin’s 1579 sermon: ‘They shall walk in black—for they are unworthy. They shall walk in black—the blackness of God’s destruction. They shall walk in black—the blackness of hopeless despair. They shall walk in black—the blackness of incomparable anguish. They shall walk in black—the blackness of damnation. They shall walk in black forever, because they were found unworthy.’16 This is in stark contrast to the following quote from the Book of Revelation where John wrote: ‘Yet you have few people who have not soiled their garments. They will walk with me, dressed in white, for they were worthy. Those who overcome will, like He, be dressed in white.’17 These quotes neatly sum up the relationship between the indigenous black population and the western white colonial population in Ambon during the turn of the twentieth century and exemplify the Christian Dutch colonial political standards of social, moral and religious control versus the indigenous Ambonese standards.18

3.15

3.15 The regent of Allang, 1900 3.16 John Calvin, 1509-1564

78

3.16

DOMINATING DRESS

Modernist thinking during the latter half of the nineteenth century illuminated a new set of sensibilities, a new way of looking at the world. Colonial discourse was essentially ethnocentric: indigenous lifestyles, mores and values were judged from a Eurocentric perspective. Informed by western notions of that time the Dutch accepted Indonesians as people, albeit culturally and socially less developed. Ultimate superiority of the European was epitomized by a statement made in 1850 by the then Governor General J.J. Rochussen, who coined the term: ‘nobility of the skin’ (adeldom van de huid) and concluded that Dutch ‘dominance in Indonesia is based on the moral and intellectual superiority of the white race over the dark race.’19 The Dutch considered themselves not only racially above the indigenous population, they also felt responsible for moral education and civilization reform processes based on western principles. And nowhere were these roles and responsibilities displayed more visually than at the most important sanctum: the Christian church. Local black outfits starkly contrasted with the fashionable gaily-coloured summer cotton dresses and the white suits of the Europeans. The westerners visually reflected modernity at its core. During Church services the contrast between the dark solemnly dressed Ambonese and the cheerfully attired Europeans could not be greater. The service visually represented the gulf between the indigenous community and colonial dominance. Those who were employed by the Dutch government and those who enjoyed European status could show off their colonial allegiance and privileged position through their clothing. Their dress items were light, comfortable, and colourful; in this they echoed the future: white-collar work or, better still, no work at all, but leisure and a life of idle comfort. The dark, oppressive, restricting dress of the local people signalled backwardness and conservatism, not only in attitude but also in lifestyle. Worse still, it epitomized the ‘sins’ of the locals who needed to redeem themselves, as opposed to the bright, light, innocent dress of the upper class (colonials) who appeared free of such misdemeanours.

Orthodox Ambonese dress style called on the need for deliverance. Deliverance from sins committed, from the restrictions of an unsophisticated heathen past. The Ambonese needed liberation from the shackles of a backward life that stopped them moving to a modern future of wealth, technological sophistication, and physical and mental equality. His however could not go too far of course, as that would ultimately threaten colonial dominance.

3.17

3.18

3.17 Man in Baju Boorci, Ambon, 1900 3.18 Woman in black pleated rok with white Lenso Pingang, 1830

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Christian Ambonese men’s wear During the latter half of the nineteenth century all ethnic males wore black drawstring trousers and a black baju boorci to confi rmation classes. This baju has a round neck opening and a half-upstanding collar on the back panel.20 During religious service the ethnic male was dressed in a white baniang (shirtjacket) and black trousers.21 He dressed half in white and half in black, half western and half Asian, half virtue and half sin. The modern western dress component was worn from the waist down, accentuating manhood and strength, while the traditional ethnic component was worn from the waist up, accentuating heart and soul. After confi rmation the male placed a black kebaya over his baniang. Significantly, his kebaya stayed open at the front showing a broad vertical band of white, highlighting the face. Black or dark-coloured western-type trousers, the celana golvi (trousers with a fly) E were worn and as a mark of respect and humbleness Church services were attended barefoot.22 When attending Church, military men remained in uniform. This was in line with their military identity and accepted by Dutch military and Church officials.23 The Ambonese man with European status dressed in a dark-coloured western suit, complete with white shirt, tie, and black leather shoes. He often topped this off with a low, soft, black felt bowler hat and white gloves. The western suit, coupled with the quality of the garments and the shoes, indicated his socioeconomic and political status.

3.20

80

3.19

E

Also called the celana bovèn (from the Dutch term boven, ‘on the top, or outer’); outerpants, as opposed to underpants.

F

King Tabarija of Ternate converted to Christianity in 1537. At his baptism he bequeathed the islands of Ambon and Seram to his Portuguese sponsor Jordão de Freitas who arrived in 1544 to take control of these islands and to try and convert the local population to Christianity (Villiers 2001:157).

3.19 Men leaving church, Ambon, 1925 3.20 White & black Baju Boorci

DOMINATING DRESS

Christian Ambonese women’s wear

3.21

3.23

3.22

3.21 Women leaving church, Ambon, 1925 3.22 Portuguese woman, 17th C 3.23 Nona Cenela n her way to church with her Lenso Pinggang (kerchief), n/d

G

Kain cita, from the Dutch term sits (chintz), was made of black cotton, prepared with black bark juice and beaten with wooden mallets to produce a shine.

H

This is a long narrow strip of fabric approximately 20 centimetres wide, and varied in length from approximately 140 to about 240 centimetres.

I

Madeira work, also called Broderie Anglaise or Swiss eyelet embroidery, was exceedingly popular during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries when it was used to decorate underwear (Coats, 1958:62) The work is usually done ton-sur-ton and consisted of oval, round or square eyelets which are fi nely edged in overcast or buttonhole stitches which are sometimes padded to give a raised effect. The edges are usually scalloped.

The fi rst European female to settle in Ambon was the second wife of Jordão de Freitas a wealthy Portuguese merchant F who arrived in 1544.24 A few more western wives of Calvinist ministers arrived during the nineteenth century. So it is most probable that the majority of ministers, wanting to clothe the local women, introduced garments similar to the garments used by their European wives. Portuguese influence on Ambonese dress was prominently articulated. The Spanish had developed a stocking knitting frame in 1589, and during the seventeenth century silk knitted stockings became fashionable all over Europe, as did the Spanish fashion of wearing long hair swept up in a bun at the back of the head adorned with a high shaped comb and decorative pins.25 The trimming of the locks in front of the ear and twisting them into a J shape facing the ear was copied directly from fashionable Iberian women of that time, as was the use of the white lace handkerchief. Regular Church dress for Christian Ambonese women consists of a black baju with a kain cita,G sometimes called kain gereja (Church kain). The baju hitam is a wide black baju falling to the hip. The kain cita is a black piece of cloth wrapped around the hips, folded in a box pleat at the front and falling to the ankle. This kain is usually held in place with a tali kain (literally ‘rope kain’). H Tali kain is made from white cotton with an elaborate broderie anglaise embroidered point on each short end. I This type of embroidery originates in Madeira, a group of volcanic islands off the coast off Morocco under Portuguese administration. It is highly likely that the Portuguese introduced items of clothing embroidered in this fashion to the Ambonese. The tali kain features lace points that are draped over the left hip and show below the hem of the baju or kebaya. This little white lace peeking out from underneath a sea of black not only hints at the white lace under garments worn underneath this severe dress, but also accentuates that part of the body, which represents fertility and sex. Sometimes a long black kebaya panjang reaching mid-calf is worn instead of the baju.

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It is closed in the front with three peniti (pins linked by a small chain) and the narrow collar is cut-in-one with the jacket closed at the throat. It either sports a straight sleeve without cuff or the fashionable leg-of-mutton with long cuff, depending on the woman’s status. For Church services a plain black kain panjang J(large kain) folded in a box pleat at the centre, fi nishes the dress. For Ambonese women, these forbidding clothes acted as a disguise for the white lace underwear and white stockings worn underneath. At weekly service and confi rmation classes the black baju or kebaya was usually worn in combination with a regular checked kain of Makassarese origin. However, it was at the weekend service that the spectacle of status and rank became clearly visible. At the Sunday service, symbolism and status fused into an ornate display of unique fashions, which testified to the spiritual state of the wearer as well as colonial conformity. They also indicated how a social-religious entity physically and spiritually constrained the Ambonese into a straitjacket of dress enforcement.

3.24

Nona Kebaya For regular Sunday services the lower-class women, the Nona Kebaya, wore the black kain baju or kain kebaya. They went barefoot, as that signified humility in the eyes of the Lord 26 and had their hair tied into a kondéh bok, the simple, small, round unadorned bun at the back of the head.27

J

Kain panjang was a wide cloth that reached from the waist to the ankles; it was generally worn a little longer than a regular kain.

K

The piring natzar was a plate covered with lace cloth that held money, sometimes wrapped in paper. This money was put in the offertory box at the Church. The place of the piring natzar (the tiang laki-laki) was the central place at the house where members of the family came together to pray (Bartels 1994).

Nona Cenela The middle-class Nona Cenela dressed in black kain, kebaya and cenela. She always used a payung (sun-umbrella) and the mazmur dan tahlil, a hymnbook wrapped in a white lace sapu tangang (Bible cover) as accessories. During the week the sapu tangang was used to cover the piring natzar (offertory plate) at home.K No woman would be seen without this brilliant white, exquisite lace kerchief wrapped around her Bible, or her white lace kerchief, dangling from the waist. L

82

L

The term lenso pinang literally translates as ‘marriage proposal kerchief dance’, referring to a kerchief used in the dance to celebrate or entice a marriage proposal.

3.25 3.26

3.24 Sidi group at bible studies, Ambon, 1910 3.25 Hymn book published by the VOC in Bahasa Indonesia, 1735 3.26 Title page of bible in Bahasa Indonesia published by the VOC, 1735

DOMINATING DRESS

This kerchief may have evolved from the kain uti-uti, the sacred fertility lap cloth used during marriage rites28 although the white lace handkerchief was also a fi xture of Western men and women during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Initially the kerchief, draped over the left hip, fell just below the baju; over time the lenso pinggang evolved into the large crochet version seen in photographs in the early twentieth century.

Nona Rok

3.27 Nona Rok in black pleated Rok (skirt) and Baju Hitam (black top), Ambon, 1870

M

Nona Rok (Mrs Skirt), from the Dutch term rok skirt.

N

Kaus, from the Dutch term kous (stocking).

The pleated skirt of Nona Rok M (wives and daughters of the minister, the rajah or Eurasian women) used at Church services differed from their regular daywear. This time the fabric used was often a silk Javanese sarong. Colours of the rok used as regular daywear were usually quite pale, but the fabric of the rok worn to Church was brilliant in colour and design. The only exception was the silver or gold threaded kain selongkan, as this kain was considered too ostentatious and not in keeping with the sober, dignified atmosphere of the occasion.29 A baju hitam (black baju) would fi nish off the garment. Instead of a tali kain to hold up the skirt, the pinggang mas, a gold belt, was used. Unlike the ends of a tali kain, the ends of this belt were not visible. Either kausN or black leather court shoes with white stockings were worn. Wearing the rok forced the wearer to shuffle with very small steps, as the starched pleats could not fan out. The stiffness and starch in the skirt prevented sitting, so one either stood or knelt 30 and it was important that throughout the service posture was kept straight and stiff. Dress items were not only used to force the body into a specific regime, the items themselves were forced into shape with the use of external implements such as iron presses as well as starch. Physical expression of the Ambonese was even more suppressed as religious doctrine asserted itself not only in dress but also in deportment. When attending Church, a Nona Rok was to walk very slowly, stare straight ahead, and not gesticulate, move her head sideways or turn her upper body around. Once seated in her pew she was not to glance around.31

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Hair was worn in a kondéh bulang or kondéh besar, a large moon-shaped bun, and decorated according to marital status. During regular weekly services or occasionally on a Sunday, the Nona Rok could also be seen dressed in a black kain kebaya, but she would make sure to put four korkupings in her kondéh bulang to distinguish herself from a Nona Cenela, who would be wearing three. She also wore kaus and feature gewangs or karabus mas in her ears. The fabric used for her kain and kebaya was either black silk satin or black chintz kain.32 The luxurious materials used and fi ne lace edging of her kerchief indicated she enjoyed the highest status. The kerchief was folded in a square and held by the centre fold so the lace could flow freely from the hand pointing downwards. The stockings were pure white, preferably silk, and the feet were accentuated by the white piping around the sole of the black kaus. The wearing of white stockings symbolized the clean feet of the Apostles, which Christ washed during the Last Supper.33 The wearing of white stockings teamed with kaus also symbolized an act of surrender, as these shoes were not really made for walking. The Ambonese surrendered themselves with gusto to the teachings of the Bible and discarded all worldly sins indicated by a dirty body for a new and enlightened spirit, a cleansed soul on virginal white feet. Creationism legitimized submission and dress style, especially women’s shoe styles, and demeanour demonstrated religious obedience.

Nona Jurk Nona Jurk enjoyed European status and appeared in a westernstyle long-sleeved dress ensemble that included stockings and black leather court shoes, usually with white gloves, a fetching hat, and a fashionable handbag. However, just like other ethnic Ambonese women, Nona Jurk carried the ubiquitous hymnbook wrapped in a lace kerchief.

Sidi One of the most important rituals in the Christian Moluccan Church is Sidi (confi rmation). Whereas baptism merely indicates the arrival of a new member within the Christian community, confi rmation signals acceptance as a fully-fledged member of the congregation. Sidi marks the most important rite of passage in religious development. For a Christian Ambonese confi rmation means the individual has studied hard at weekly confi rmation classes, which can last up to three years, successfully passing an exam (periksa) and being a model Christian of exemplary behaviour. Confirmation means taking the great leap forward from childhood into adulthood, supported by family and Church and encouraged by the community. It is an occasion to give thanks, to celebrate, and to show one’s position in the Church community.35

Nona Militair The Nona Militair, the wives of the Ambonese KNIL soldiers, attended Church services dressed either as Nona Cenela or as Nona Rok, depending on the level of status accorded to them by their mothers.34

3.28 Ambonese Sidi group at their confirmation, n/d

84

DOMINATING DRESS

3.29

Sidi men’s wear At Sidi Ambonese males add a black kebaya made of thick cotton fabric to their white baniang and black trousers. They go barefoot. The donning of the kebaya during confi rmation and after that at every religious service signals they have crossed the threshold into adulthood and enjoy acceptance within Church and society.36 It also signals that they, just like Nona Passar and Nona Cenela, are not of the upper socioeconomic echelon, as they are not allowed full western dress. But they wear at least one item of western dress, their trousers, unlike women who only show a kerchief and stockings to indicate their association with a modernist world. Mungaré (young single men) with European status initially dressed in a black frock coat, black trousers, white shirt with vest, cravat and black leather shoes. White gloves and a low bowler hat completed the outfit. However, in the early twentieth century, the black trousers were exchanged for a white pair with matching white vest.37

Sidi women’s wear

3.30

3.29 Men in Western frock coats, Buru, n/d 3.30 Men in Western jacket, white trousers and vest, Ambon, 1935

Class and ethnic distinction alone was not enough in the eyes of the Church: those who had been confi rmed, and thus been accepted within the congregation, had to also distinguish themselves from those who were not as yet confi rmed. For lower-class females (Nona Kebaya and Nona Cenela), this mark of separation came in the form of a kain pikul, a long narrow sash made from black cotton, satin, or velvet, richly embroidered with small glass beads or sequins and silk satin thread. This kain, sewn in a loop, was pulled over the head, draped over the left shoulder and worn across the body, resting on the right hip; when in mourning it was draped over the right shoulder. The kain pikul is a Christian Moluccan accessory unlike any other selendang (shoulder cloth) worn in Indonesia because selendang are normally wider and not sewn into a circle. As it is about 15 centimetres wide and heavily embroidered with beads and satin thread, it tends to stand away from the hip leaving a nice little fold to hold one’s hymnbook, kerchief and other small items.38

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The kain pikul is worn across the heart and served a dual role: in the fi rst instance it symbolically links the wearer with Christ 39, who on the road to Calvary wore the cross over His left shoulderO − indeed some are calling it ’the slip or cape of Christ.’40 Secondly, there appears to be a direct link to Spanish fashion, as this kain very much resembles a bandolier41 so popular amongst the seventeenth century middle class and Cavaliers. P Their sash, or bandolier, was actually a belt with small pockets or loops for cartridges. The Ambonese kain pikul sometimes features small pockets or patches attached to hold the offerings from the piring natsar (offertory plate), which are then taken to Church on Sundays.42 The kain pikul is the clearest indication of full acceptance within the Church but it also served simultaneously as a stark reminder of the brutal times the Ambonese endured under the enforced culture system and the so-called hongi raids Q during the seventeenth century.43 A ‘pikul’ is also the name of a specific weight. This weight is equivalent to 62.5 km, the exact load of a bag of spices that was to be carried by the coolies under employment of the VOC. Kain pikul as worn by Nona Passar and Nona Cenela (the lower-class women), serves not only to indicate those who are confi rmed but distinguishes those with marital status. Only women who are married and confi rmed are allowed to use kain pikul on Sundays,44 while jojaros (virgins) are not allowed to wear the kain pikul at all until their confi rmation ceremony. In colonial Ambon, during the actual confi rmation ceremony held on Palm Sunday when all members are considered equal in they eyes of the Church, members did not present themselves in an equal manner. At this most important event upper class Ambonese women (Nona Kaus and Nona Rok) did not use a kain pikul but draped a mustisa over their shoulders to declare their social status. This garment is invariably described as a slabbetje (Dutch for ‘bib’) or salempang or kerah pasang (double yoke).45

86

3.31

O

Usi Riet Pattikawa (2001) described it as such: ‘Kain pikul is not a selendang (ethnic shoulder cloth worn by males and females), it symbolizes Christ carrying the cross before he is crucified. Because you wear the pikul over your shoulder as a pikul salib, it means to carry the cross’ (personal communication, Pattikawa, R. (2001).

P

The more exuberantly dressed among Europe’s 17th C aristocracy.

Q

Hongi is the Malay term for fleet. During the seventeenth century Governors Arnold de Vlamingh van Oudshoorn and Jan PietersZoon Coen sent out large fleets to destroy the clove plantations everywhere except Ambon and the Lease Islands securing VOC’s full control over the clove industry.

3.32 3.33 3.31 Various beaded Kain Pikul 3.32 Nona Sidi wearing a Kain Pikul 3.33 17th C Cavalier wearing a bandolier

DOMINATING DRESS

3.35

3.34 3.36

3.34 Nona Kaus at Sidi, Ambon, 1923 3.35 Beaded Mansets (cuffs) 3.36 Beaded Mustisa (yoke)

The mustisa is a U-shaped yoke, and its flaps are placed over both shoulders towards the back, on top of a baju. It is made of black fabric of either glazed cotton, silk or velvet and heavily embroidered with black glass beads or couched black silk satin thread. Sometimes, loose matching mansets (cuffs) complement the outfit. The manset is as richly decorated as the mustisa, indicating that Ambonese women developed meticulous embroidery skills. Several Ambonese women were trained specifically to embroider the kain pikul and the mustisa. However the Chinese who usually embroidered Ambonese dress items such as the tali kain (narrow belt), the sapu tangang (Bible cover), lenso pinggang (kerchief) and underwear, were not allowed to decorate the kain pikul and mustisa because they were considered sacred.46 Nona Rok and Nona Kaus wore the mustisa only during confi rmation and during their very fi rst attendance at the Last Supper, which takes place on Maundy Thursday. As all the embroidery is ton-sur-ton it has the appearance of black lace, especially in a Church lit by candlelight or oil lamps. Like the kain pikul, this decorative item effortlessly straddles religious and social/economic spheres. The appearance of these ‘lace’ collars strongly resembled the lace collars and bibs worn on the Iberian Peninsula during the seventeenth and eighteenth century. This was in stark contrast to Reformed seventeenth-century Dutch burghers, whose round lace collars consisted of heavily starched white ruffs aptly named ‘millstones’. Instead the Spanish and Portuguese lace collars were made of much softer lace and were usually black in colour.47 The most noticeable feature of Iberian fashion of that time was that the lace collar, which initially stood straight up framing the face, later in this period became what was known as the ‘fallen collar’, hugging the shoulders. Bobbin lace was the height of fashion and was imported from Venice and Flanders.48 It is more than likely that the mustisa stems from this period. Somehow this collar managed to fi nd its way to the central Moluccas where Christian women creatively adapted this mode of dress.

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Not having access to an abundance of black lace, ethnic women developed a flat loose collar intricately embroidered with silk satin thread, glass beads and sequins, cleverly working within the constraints of the severe, restraint dress code advocated by the Church. Over time both the mustisa and the kain pikul became objects treasured by women and handed down to their daughters or goddaughters.49 In addition black leather court shoes and white stockings complete the outfit. Hair is tied back into a kondéh falungku (fist-shaped bun) without adornment and the only jewellery used is a set of earrings, either gewangs or karabus mas, and perhaps a thin gold chain.50 Ambonese dress worn in Christian religious context shrouded the body in a nullifying blackness, implying absolute subjection and obedience to God. This compliance was internalized through submission to, and suppression of the physical and spiritual self. Subsequently this became externalized through dress and body maintenance routines. The body transferred to a non-gendered, non-physical, non-sexual state, offering its pure nothingness to spiritual satiation. The process of erasure through dress removed the dividing lines between body, self, and society. Brief flashes of white called attention to the feet (white stockings and piping around the slippers) and hands (kerchief). Feet were symbolically used as a sign of adherence to colonial power and western religious subversion; white stockings, as mentioned earlier, symbolized the cleaning of the Apostles’ feet by Jesus during the Last Supper. Shoes became a commodity indicating modern status, education and allegiance to the colonizers. R Hands symbolized economic value in a Marxist sense, as they were needed to conduct operations required to obtain colonial wealth. The stark contrast between black and white concomitantly represented the boundary between the colonizer and the colonized; black erased the individual, making the Ambonese into a unit of the collective colonial machine, while white linked their economic potential to the ruler.

88

R

This allegiance was also emphasized by the issue of shoes in the military prior to 1908, see elsewhere.

3.37 Women ready for church, Ambon, n/d

DOMINATING DRESS

S

3.38 Newly confirmed members of the Moluccan Protestant Church, Ambon, 1940

This custom, like many others, has survived in the central Moluccas since the Portuguese introduced Catholicism. Ever since the fi rst Dutch ministers arrived in the colonies to preach Calvinist Protestantism, Catholic rituals have been embedded in Christian practice and the influence of Jesuit missionaries and the Catholic faith remains as strong today, as it was then (Andaya 1993:144-147; Cooley 1962:18, 345). The reasons for retention and subsequent adherence to a specific dress code, according to Bartels (1994), is that ‘Christian rituals are patterned after traditional Adat ceremonies, in which the use of exact words, precise pronunciation, and the strict execution of ritual action determine success or failure’ (Bartels, 1994:409;187-189). Ritual and tradition are strictly adhered to and maintained as much as possible in the most authentic way (Andaya 1993:143-147).

Ambonese clothing and its colour palette depicted the relationship between the presence of colonizer and the constructed absence of the colonized: difference and differentiation. The black heavy garment became, in a Barthesian (1983) frame, a ‘shroud of death’, immobile and subservient to colonial occasion. The light and airy white lace accessories were like wings celebrating life: ‘an economic promise.’51 The body was exchanged for spiritual enlightenment while the hands and feet were exchanged for pecuniary interests. Distortion of the body through dress concealed the ultimate truth: the Ambonese were heathens aspiring to spiritual enlightenment; ethnic realities (in other words the sexually charged heathen body) needed to be denounced. This process of defamiliarising advocated depersonalization in favour of the collective. Heads were garlanded by the beautifully embroidered collars to give substance to the void created by the black garments so that their scalps could be collected by the minister in order to gain individual and communal spiritual strength and longevity. Ironically, this was exactly the same as once Ambonese indigenous forefathers had done through the act of headhunting.

Confirmation dress of women with Western status Nona Jurk, ethnic women of the highest class and Western women, wore long-sleeved white dresses with white gloves. This outfit resembled a western wedding dress without a veil as the young woman doing her confirmation was considered a ‘bride of Christ’. S It was during the confi rmation service that the differences between the locals and the ‘chosen ones’ were at the extreme. Ethnic women, dressed in their dignified fi nery, could not even begin to outshine the select few who would dress up in their long white gowns, dreamily float into Church and position themselves in the front pews. As true angels in this dark building Western women exuded light, innocence and purity, while local women stood guard like soldiers in black uniforms protecting God’s virgins. Like a beacon in the underworld the extreme whiteness of their dress and their skin drew all light towards itself.

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White erased their wrongs and confi rmed promise of a place in the celestial city. The colour black reeked of the netherworld where creatures were not worthy and where they burned forever. Through the very act of religious control, people’s social presentation was constrained and these formal constraints were scrupulously maintained through community control, with people watchful of each other’s movements. One was expected to wear the ‘right’ clothes to Church, and people were stared down if their behaviour and dress was not befitting a Church service.52 Interestingly, both the indigenous as well as the colonial population exercised this form of social control.53

3.39 Barefoot Ambonese KNIL soldier Ambon, 1870

90

Dress of the ambonese military Army uniforms are defi nitive types of dominating dress. Uniforms are used as a means of subjection, nullifying individuals and rendering them without personal identity. Marking the body as a usable entity within the context of the armed forces, or in the context of Dutch colonial times in the framework of private business or government administration, denies individuality but signals group membership, concurrently separating the collective from society. Through minute details, known and understood only by the initiated, can the individual be distinguished from the group. Army uniforms are imposed upon the wearer through retention and fastidious regimentation, its power directed outward. Disassembly of the self and reassembly of group entity is expressed through identical dress units that are dyadic in nature. Repetition is pervasive throughout standardising dress, which reveals a singular principle: that of submission of the self to the communal. Dress is dissociated from the private self and status is endowed only as long at the individual is a unit in the collective whole. Military uniforms are predictable as there is no margin of variation allowed; they are identical within their rank. In a military context, by literally stripping the new recruit of their regular clothes and shaving their head, followed by wearing nonpersonal identical standard items of dress implies denunciation of the self. Thus the army uniform becomes a visual manifestation of government power at the cost of personal identity. Constant reproduction of lack of personal identity generates perpetual denial of the self, exemplified through military drills. Forced dissociation from the self creates military units that act unconditionally when given orders. Stripping the dress of any person adds to the loss of identity and individuality; issuing uniforms makes this dissociation apparent, as the individual becomes a (small) component in a unit. The Ambonese army uniform was dyadic, not so much towards the other soldiers in the armed forces, but more importantly towards the rest of the Ambonese and indeed the wider Indonesian community.

DOMINATING DRESS

The uniform and its wearer became the most powerful, symbolic, communicative medium through which the Ambonese population and the Dutch colonial government were connected, making the individual a self-regulating instrument of control.54 Within the context of the military, visual difference was initially only marked by the wearing of shoes. Ethnic defi nition was characterized by separate living quarters, better education for their children and better food rations. The Ambonese desire to belong was exemplified in expressing the strongest possible affiliation with the colonizers. Visual differentiation was dyadic as it was directed at other Indonesian ethnic societies inside and outside the military, as well as at their own community back home. Within an Ambonese context it was important to display membership of the KNIL community.55 Perpetual reconstruction of this yearning, this need to belong to this elite Ambonese group, produced a continuous recognition of lack and want and created an interesting paradox. Dress practice facilitated Ambonese consciousness of desire as it acted as a perpetual reminder of one’s (subordinate) place in the hierarchical structure of the military. It also acted as a continuous reminder of the superior place occupied as a member of the KNIL.

The KNIL uniform and its wearer. became the most powerful, symbolic medium through which the Ambonese population and the Dutch colonial government were connected. 3.40 Ambonese warriors, Ambon, 1724

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The military uniform The KNIL military uniform was a prized possession within ethnic Ambonese community as it denoted high socioeconomic standing and prestige,56 in part due to the colonial government privileges awarded to loyal KNIL members (see elsewhere). Towards the late nineteenth century the Ambonese military dressed in uniforms consisted of navy cotton trousers and a high closing jacket, with stand-up collar. This jacket design appears to have been a precursor for the ‘tropical suit’ (see below); it sported a loose white collar, which is held in place with buttons inside the jacket. Five gold buttons featuring the Dutch crest closed the jacket. Decorative pins on the wings of the collar and shoulder epaulets indicated military rank. Puttees (leather leggings or a long strip of cloth wound spirally round the leg from ankle to knee) were worn over prized ankle bootsT and a high brimless hat sporting a black lacquered visor decorated with gold braid was worn on the head. A leather military belt with shoulder strap completed the outfit. The early 1920s saw a change in the colour of the military uniform. As civil service men wore colonial white dress, the military started to make distinctions between the Navy and the Army with the fi rst retaining the navy blue colour and the latter wearing dark olive green. The original jacket design was maintained but khaki coloured shirts replaced the white ones and a different style cap was introduced. During the 1930s the silhouette changed and the jackets became more fitted with shoulder pads and with some models featuring four buttons, turn-back lapels and patched pockets. The trousers also became wider and the puttees were put aside for use during military training and exercises only. For officers of high rank and for official ceremonies, the colour white was retained. Difference in rank, equal to difference in ethnicity, was emulated by different dress. T

92

These boots were initially only issued to Ambonese and Menadonese soldiers (van Dijk 1996: 49).

3.41 Various KNIL soldiers and recruitment poster, 20th C

3.42

DOMINATING DRESS

Jas Tutup The jas (white tropical suit) for western men is also considered within the ‘dominating’ frame. This suit was developed as a response to the fear of identity loss after many ethnic men started to wear western-styled suits; initially this outfit was the prerogative of European men. When boundaries between the colonizer and the colonized became distorted due to cross-cultural and cross-rank implementation of similar identities, white colonial power resorted to a new visual defi nition. Apart from appropriate qualities such as an easy-wearing design, lightweight thin fabric and a cool white colour scheme, the suit immediately and sharply defi ned ethnicity. Colour, technological advancement and modern styling accentuated visual supremacy, relegating the black worsted woollen suit as old fashioned and backward. Regular dress practice and discipline could no longer neutralize the threat of contingency of self-identity, resulting in the fast adoption of the jas tutup. Embracing the suit so quickly and regarding it as a new uniform of sorts forced men to surrender their individual identity to a colonial image that exuded power and progress. The suit effortlessly integrated in colonial Ambonese society and was easily accepted and recognized by local ethnic cultures. In fact, at the beginning of the twentieth century the jas tutup became the official dress style for the military and public servants, and was also simultaneously and uniformly adopted by men in the private business sector. The dyadic nature of the jas tutup assured a visual continuation of Dutch colonial domination. During the nineteenth century Ambonese men had been quick to embrace western appearance and, as a result, at the turn of the twentieth century it was common in Ambon to see western-style suits worn by those who were associated with the colonial regime. Expansion of trade and economic development had given rise to the development of an Ambonese middle class that directly challenged the relationship between social hierarchy and cultural and racial division between the Dutch colonizer and the Ambonese.57 This ethnic middle class started to indicate its social position through the adoption of western suits. tutupU

3.44

3.43 3.42 Ambonese KNIL soldiers, n/d 3.43 Jan Evers (father of the author) KNIL soldier, 1937 3.44 KNIL recruitment posters, n/d

U

Jas is Dutch for ‘jacket’. Tutup is the Indonesian term for ‘closed’.

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Although those Ambonese who worked within the Dutch government were expected to wear western suits, it was vital that an ordered sense of a cultural divide was maintained. During the fi rst half of the twentieth century, colonial Ambonese society was divided into two main different cultural groups, Europeans and those with European status vis-à-vis ethnic Ambonese and other foreign Asians (mostly from Chinese, Japanese or Arab background). However, real social contact between these groups was minimal. There were many public places such as swimming pools, clubs and hotels from which ethnic people were barred. 58 Those Ambonese with European status were unwelcome guests and the fact that they adopted the visual appearance and behavioural traits of the colonizers minimized this carefully constructed segregation. For the colonizers, the demise of dominance in appearance demanded a new exterior. Subsequently a new dress system was adopted that distinguished class. Yet the new dress system was also practical and indicative of technological advancement. Western items of clothing such as the black suit were not suited to the Indonesian environment because they were far too hot and uncomfortable for the tropics. The Indonesian kain and baju were far more appropriate in these surroundings in terms of fabric, design and cut. Western clothes were not adapted to suite local conditions but wholly adopted. In these circumstances the western black suit was an instant paradox. On the one hand it proclaimed progress and on the other hand it signalled conservative puritanism and an unwillingness and inability to comfortably master a different environment. This was quite the opposite of the liberal attitude the Dutch wanted to be credited with. A more humanistic and considerate view towards the colonized world would need to be emphasized through successful modification of western dress to local elements, clearly and visually displaying mastery of environmental challenges whilst at the same time maintaining superior status over the local population. 3.45 Dr Scharenberg, medical offi cer and guests in Jas Tutup, Ambon, 1906

94

DOMINATING DRESS

3.46

3.47 3.46 Govenor General J.P. van Limburg Stirum visits Ambon, 1919 3.47 Jas Tutup GERZON mail order advertisement, 1932

Through the introduction of a new fashion the black western suit transformed into ‘fi xed’ dress, as in the eyes of the Europeans this suit was characterized by its continuity of the (recent) past. The regular western suit of black trousers and jacket with white shirt became the new ‘traditional’ (read: ‘backward’) dress, while the new colonial suit quickly became the standard modern dress for European men in the East. The newly changed mode of dress was not an individually created negotiation, but a static, predictable, collective response, forced onto the upper elite as a response to fear of its own visual demise. For the western elite in the Moluccas the arrival of the jas tutup was a godsend. This suit comprised of a white unlined jacket without lapels. It featured a stitched-through, stand-up collar. It was made of cotton drill or exclusive Russian linen and closed at the neck with a single row of slip-in buttons. The jacket had two bound pockets on the hip and a welt pocket on the left front panel; directly underneath this breast pocket was a vertically-bound watch pocket. It could withstand rigorous washing as all hems and seams were double stitched and the buttons were easily removed. White frontpleated pants completed this tropical outfit. For the horseman and plantation owner, the trousers featured extra cotton lining in the back to strengthen the seat. It also had and very narrow legs so that long socks and garters could be pulled over the trouser to protect the wearer, making this suit reminiscent of military uniforms complete with boots and puttees (leggings).59 These ‘colonial whites’ were introduced to the Indonesian archipelago from Singapore during the latter half of the nineteenth century and quickly adopted as everyday wear. 60 The advantage of the jas tutup was the fact that it was worn without a shirt or tie, straight over a singlet or sometimes even straight over the naked torso. The jas tutup was tailored to fit the body and the discerning traveller had the suits made to measure in the Netherlands before he left for the Dutch East Indies. Just in case he was short on clothing, many mail-order businesses and enterprising tailors in Java also made sure that there were plenty of opportunities to acquire the jas tutup on the way to the central Moluccas.

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De Haan (1922) suggested that ‘the fi rst sighting of the white jacket was in Batavia in 1793. A complete white suit was fi rst reported in the Bengal region (India) around 1813.’61 This suit was at once formal, as white symbolized cleanliness, power and superiority, and informal because the items of clothing were made of fi ne, thin, cool-wearing, lightweight material and very loosely structured. Its appearance truly signalled the future. The development and implementation of the jas tutup symbolized the understanding and ultimate conquering of local elements whilst visually maintaining superior status over the local population. It not only separated the locals from the rulers, it also clearly separated the new working class from the colonial ruling class. After all, the colour white does not encourage one to do any manual labour. The unstructured cut and the flowing ease of the materials used indicated an easy lifestyle of unhurried calm in a much-prized warm climate. It was the ultimate modernist dress. The materials showed the technological advancement of the textile industry and the fact that this modern fabric had also made it all the way to the eastern islands of the Indonesia archipelago indicated that the central Moluccas were really not that isolated, neither in terms of modern technology nor in terms of distance. The jas tutup was grounded in a Dutch East Indies socioeconomic context and indicative of the political aims and ambitions of the colonial government. It signified modernity, progress in trade, high technological standards, political relations and a sense of colonialism that willingly accommodated some eastern tradition, as the jacket featured a Mandarin style collar.V The wearer effortlessly negotiated between societies in Indonesia, secure in his knowledge and understanding of local context. He successfully fused two societies, while still maintaining his elite status. The differences in modes of dress in colonial Ambonese society were indicative of differences in social roles and selfconcepts of members of this society. Opposing roles were marked with opposing dress forms.

96

Social and cultural acceptance of the jas tutup as the ultimate dress of the colonial elite came with official government sanctioning of this style of dress in 1904 for European public servants and the military. 62 As the jas tutup became the new colonial uniform it became an important asset in distinguishing between the three main social groups in Ambonese colonial society: the Europeans, the middle class Dutch-educated Ambonese and other members of the ethnic Ambonese community. European men worked for the Dutch government, the KNIL or in the private business sector.W Because they all wore colonial white suits, decoration and accessories became identity and status markers. The braids on shoulder epaulets and sleeves, as well as specific public servant buttons featuring the Dutch crest distinguished the four different ranks within the colonial government. Six buttons on the jacket and four on the sleeves indicated higher ranks of the administration whilst five buttons on the jacket and three on each sleeve were for the lower ranks. The trousers did not feature any decoration. Public servants also wore a public service hat made from white linen showing a black lacquered visor and a navy hatband with an emblem on the front. In 1929 a new ‘European’ model jacket was introduced, the open jas. This was a white cotton or linen blazer style jacket, half lined (i.e. only the front panels were lined) and closed with three buttons. The lapels were quite wide and necessitated a white shirt and tie be worn underneath. As the jacket was usually worn unbuttoned, a pair of fashionable trousers pleated-on-a-waistband was de rigeur. During the course of the 1930s the white open jas became the preferred dress of the modern male. For those who worked as civil servants, rank decorations remained the same as on the jas tutup. As the jacket design closely resembled a European suit jacket a white pith helmet with the public service emblem prominently featured on the cap was added to give it that tropical edge. Those in the private sector wore an unadorned pith helmet.

DOMINATING DRESS

When the jas tutup or the open jas began to take on the role of a civic uniform during the early decades of the twentieth century, public behaviour also adjusted. Where in the past it was good etiquette to greet one another by lifting one’s hat or cap, it became near impossible to do this with a pith helmet. Thus a military salute was introduced as the appropriate greeting for public servants. 63 By governing the dress code of civilian men, and introducing specific military-based rules and regulations for formal and informal behaviour between administrators and local residents, the state reached into the heart of the Christian colonial and ethnic population. During the 1930s the use and application of the jas tutup reached a crescendo that came to an abrupt halt at the start of World War II. As the suit was the clearest and most visual indication of association with the Dutch colonial regime, the use of the jas tutup quickly declined after the war.

Conclusion

3.48 GERZON shoes advertisement, 1920

V

The jas tutup is not to be confused with the white baniang of Christian Ambonese men that developed simultaneously.

W

By 1930 approximately 25% of the Dutch in Indonesia worked in government positions (Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:88).

The dress systems discussed in this chapter are characterized by the tense relationship between lack and domination. Submission to religious doctrine or military drill highlighted lack. What was lacking was personal intent, or the desire to become independent of religion, the military or colonial institutions. Submission to colonial or religious rule epitomized lack and this was demonstrated through adherence to strict physical and religious regimes represented on the body via dress. The significant role of the clothes described in this chapter not only characterized acquiescence; related items of dress also became objectified within religious expression or colonial institutions. The various dress systems worn in religious contexts were strongly informed by Catholic Portuguese dress design of the seventeenth century and, in spite of almost total conversion of the Ambonese Catholics to Dutch Protestantism, these influences were maintained throughout colonial rule. 64 Physical discipline was the ultimate exemplification of religious ethics: dissociation of the self and association with the collective.

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The missionaries equated some elements of sartorial display with outright rejection of socially constructed acceptable boundaries. They perceived some outward expression as a display of the indulgent self. However the Ambonese developed a dress system that adhered to western Christian principles of austere display and at the same time managed to infuse Adat symbolisms, for example the mustisa that framed the head referred back to pre-colonial practice of headhunting and the pikul was a sharp reminder of Dutch oppression. The fact that these clothes have managed to preserve their specific design and symbolism to the present date is indicative of strong Ambonese observance of Christian religious principle as well as their own Adat values. 65 During Sidi the ethnic male also covered himself with a black kebaya. The hope of salvation through the wearing of the white baniang was instantly cowered by a layer of black. At once ultimate deliverance became that little bit more unattainable. A black kebaya put the ethnic man back in his right, orthodox, fossilized place, immediately elevating the colonizers and Eurasians who wore the suit of modernity. The European male was merely expected to turn up in a western suit and tie; this allowed him to easily move back and forth between western and eastern worlds while he was able at all times to maintain social control over his ethnic counterpart. Wearing ethnic clothing confi rmed the Ambonese in the lowest status within the hierarchy of the Church. Through the very act of Sidi, with its confi rmation classes, examination and behaviour control, people’s emotions were also constrained. Development of dress worn within the Christian Ambonese Church services was ultimately conditioned by colonial-religious identity domination. In fact the Ambonese did not only wear ethnicity on their bodies, they used their bodies to defi ne ethnicity through their gait and demeanour.X The combination of dress specifically worn during Church services and their pious religious reverence was embodied in the physicality of their personal presentation.

98

X

Many Moluccans suggest they recognize other Moluccans by their walk. It still seems to be a potent identity marker in the Netherlands among the Moluccan community. Although many had trouble defi ning it, the subtlety of their stride appears to be a giveaway in recognizing other Moluccans, though none of the Dutch people interviewed entertained the possibility that something like a walk could differ from one Indonesian ethnic group to the next. Moluccan descriptions of their walk varied from ‘a stagger, a gait, a slow precise statuesque stride, slow jumping moves, a swing, a cool move, a determined slide, a fast hip-swaying walk’ to ‘a normal walk but different’ (Bartels 1989:322-333).

3.49 GERZON collars advertisment, 1908

DOMINATING DRESS

Ambonese rigidity of posture, the slow measured walk and restricted bodily movements were governed by their ascetic religion and represented elements of physical state of the human condition gained through a regime of strength of faith, desire for chastity and eagerness in devotion. In a similar way, wearing a KNIL uniform created a particular visual image in the Dutch East Indies and forced the wearer and observer to reflect on the contingency of Amboneseness, ethnicity and personal identity. This continuous dialogue highlighted the political position of the Ambonese within the Dutch colonial construct. Colonial government favouritism towards Ambonese soldiers, and their physical separation from the central Moluccan islands fuelled a strong desire to defi ne and maintain a distinct Ambonese identity. 66 As long as the Ambonese wore the army uniform, he enjoyed significance accorded to KNIL soldiers; similarly, the European colonial administrator or planter was paid due esteem when dressed in the jas tutup. Out of uniform men were stripped of these collective discourses. The jas tutup, just as the military uniform and the dress systems worn in religious contexts, symbolized an awareness of lack. The unique characteristic of the use of the jas tutup was its move from a prescribed dress item for government administration to a socially prescribed uniform for private enterprise. The stigma among westerners attached to wearing the ‘wrong’ suit (i.e. black or navy western outfit) was so powerful that ridicule from fellow planters drove innocent, newly arrived young men to the brink of depression, or even suicide. 67 Fear of non-acceptance was such a powerful incentive that men were willing to forsake their own identity for the identity of the collective. This need was so strong that without their jas tutup men became invisible. Maintaining the suit preserved the status of their image as well as the suit itself. Objectified, the jas tutup became synonymous with the coveted identity.

99

Mirroring dress

CHAPTER FOUR MIRRORING DRESS

‘ ‘You wanted to look European but deep in your heart you were always Moluccan.’ Ibu Tupanwael, 2001

CHAPTER FOUR

‘

I

n the world of the mirroring body, projection and introjection take place in seamless reciprocity.’1

This quotation neatly sums up the interposition the Ambonese occupied in colonial Ambonese history. Throughout colonial times the Ambonese constituted their objectives through self-reflection. They saw themselves occupying a very different position within colonial society than any other ethnic group in the Dutch East Indies. The Ambonese were very aware of the value the colonizer placed on their Christianity and they used their privileged position to improve and enhance their social and economic situation. As a result they started to identify themselves more with the Dutch than with other ethnic groups, including Ambonese Muslims. Their objectives included tolerance of imposition of Dutch colonial values on Ambonese society. Although complete assimilation of the ethnic Ambonese within Dutch colonial society was not on the Ambonese agenda, what was a fervent wish was equality with the Dutch and recognition of their unique partnership. Desire for external transformation from Ambonese to ‘Dutch’ was exemplified by a visual and physical transformation. This visuality was facilitated and highlighted through incorporating ideas about Western notions of personal presentation and literally projecting these images on the self. What better way than to present oneself in western dress, using western demeanour and speaking Dutch? It was not enough to simply wear western clothes, it was equally important to embody western physical characteristics and to mirror a western lifestyle. This process of gradual ‘bleaching out’ of ethnic identity resulted in the adoption of full western dress and was not only restricted to those Ambonese who were of Eurasian background; it especially included those who managed to obtain legal ‘European’ status.

102

The Europeans, removed from their own environment, faced the challenge of acclimatising to their new surroundings and adapting socially to their newfound status. They did so by embracing a certain lifestyle and acquiring a different dress code to emphasize their position. As the majority of the westerners came to the central Moluccan islands in a transient capacity these identities were also temporary and ultimately depended on the context of time and place. This chapter discusses dress practice that reflects an ideal, edited version of the world; the clothing of men, women, domestic staff, and children are all examined, as well as the related issue of personal hygiene and clothing care. Certain dress styles are constructed so the wearer can assume an identity which is not their own. Mimicking dress gives people the chance to adopt a strategy of depicting a visual image or even a complete lifestyle that purportedly is different, if not better, than one’s own. Sometimes this identity is expressed only in the security of one’s own home or only shared among family and close friends. At other times a complete lifestyle is adopted and dress becomes one of the means of expressing the pursuit of this desired status. Temporary assimilation or equality in a challenging new environment is the key factor in the quest for embracing a new visual identity. This chapter tracks the changes in Ambonese society as a result of Dutch colonial domination and then investigates historical, societal and embodied influences on dress development of those people who inhabited the central Moluccan islands.

Mimicking dress gives people the chance to adopt a strategy of depicting a visual image.

MIRRORING DRESS

Mirroring dress within the colonial Ambonese context Within the context of the mirroring dress frame it is important to recognize the different social and cultural position of the Eurasian and Ambonese women, compared to the Europeans, even as they emulated a western image. They asserted this image most strongly when they found their positions relegated to the fringe of society. Marginalization of ethnic and Eurasian women reached its peak during the fi rst half of the twentieth century, when their assumed roles changed dramatically with the arrival of totok women (i.e. European born, although predominantly Dutch born) in Ambon. This change, facilitated by the Ethical Policy manifested itself in a refocusing on stratified layers within Ambonese society, which in turn was expressed in dress.A The position of the totoks also exemplified the stratified layer within that particular community and totok desire to imitate an upperclass lifestyle commensurate with their socioeconomic position within a colonial Ambonese context. Mirroring dress is a predictable reflection of one’s social surrounding, defi ned by environmental, cultural and economic/ political criteria. Dissociation of the self allowed for strong affi liation with a constructed environment, a dreamscape. This was a created reality made up of equal parts of wishful thinking, expectation and fantasy. Strong need for membership generated visual identities that were adopted to affi rm affiliation, making dress monadic, as it satisfied consciousness. Continuous reproduction of the desire to project association with a higher social order produced various clothing systems, embodied characteristics and body maintenance regimes as well as the infrastructure of sociopolitical life (inclusive of material and organizational systems, structures of ideas and concepts and conduct and behavioural structures). Alongside the formation of these new discourses, new identities were formed and illustrated through dress and deportment. Membership of perceived social

groups was not gained automatically but acquired through occupation, education, marriage or legal status. Intimate knowledge and understanding of the stratified makeup of each social environment was crucial to its existence; adherence to its rules and regulations ensured its potential and resilience to change guaranteed its longevity.2 Bell (1976), Simmel (1904) and Veblen (1954) proposed that fashion developed as a tool for gaining social status. The means adopted by the new ethnic elite in the central Moluccas to challenge colonial power and the elite status accorded to Europeans was to copy their identity in an attempt to appropriate their status and in doing so diminish class distinctions between themselves and the Dutch. Thus emulation became the motivating factor and outcome of the usage of western dress. Within the mirroring dress frame, consumption is the key mode of usage. Mirroring indigenous or western dress styles did not relate to the classic Marxist concept of ‘consumption’, B however it related instead to continuous adjustment of colonialcapitalist images directly onto the body in the desire to emulate (elite western or aristocratic Indonesian) identity and status, rather than material acquisition and a display of wealth. Dress systems such as the western suit became objectified and infused with colonial power.

A

For an excellent analysis of the often ambiguous relationship between Indonesian and European women in the Dutch East Indies between 1900 and 1942 see Locher-Scholten (1996, 2000) and Taylor (1997a). For an examination of the relationship between Europeans, Eurasians and ethnic Indonesians during the seventeenth century see Taylor (1983).

B

The term ‘consumption’ in a Marxist sense refers to the outcome of interrelated, analytical themes of materialism, social evolution and capitalism.

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CHAPTER FOUR

4.02

Men’s wear Eurasians and Ambonese with European status in western dress The colonial government initially encouraged European men to wear western dress when they were employed by the State. Towards the end of the nineteenth century the Eurasians and those people with European status wore a three-piece suit only at special ceremonies and in Church, until more western suits became available. Lack of suits propagated a healthy business of clothing hire for these special occasions.3 When indigenous dress was relinquished, social control of the body increased. European dress constructed not only social change, it was instrumental in the formation and perpetuation of personal identity, not just visually but also in an embodied manner. European dress demanded a particular control of the body. In 1875 Baron van Hoëvell observed that Ambonese ‘…single men especially construct a certain image by their caddish behaviour, they turn and twist their posterior and swing their arms about, in what they consider dignified behaviour.’ He believed that in this context the use of the term ‘Jannen’,C in a derogative sense was quite justifiable.4 Thus modes of behaviour, bodily movements, even tempo and rhythm were not only constrained in a corset of western dress, Ambonese bodies also became constrained in their ethnic dress systems which developed during the nineteenth century. The fact that the Ambonese were not fully able to adjust their walking according to European expectations, but were able to develop specific body control according to their own cultural norms, confi rms Mauss’ (1979) argument that ‘knowledge of how to use your body is a matter of cultural knowledge and know-how; not universal knowledge.’ Wearing a western suit became simultaneously a mark of socioeconomic standing and most of all an indication of allegiance to the colonial government and adherence to Christianity. Access to suiting material was initially facilitated by the government. For example, the surest route to the pinnacle of success was to receive training as a schoolteacher or assistant minister. 6

10 4

4.03

C

Jannen is a Dutch term for soldiers, implying marching puppets.

4.02 Ethnic men in western dress holding offi cial ‘rottingsknops’ 4.03 Eurasian family of Mr Max Bajetto KNIL lieutenant-colonel, all in western dress

MIRRORING DRESS

The Dutch government remunerated this loyalty with metres of prized black fabric, gratefully accepted year after year and made up into yet another black suit.7 As a result there are several photographs showing Ambonese men in dark western suits complete with shoes and often a hat and cane. Western suits indicated willingness by the local elite to be visually transformed and ethnic men dressed in suits found themselves treated as westerners, at least compared to those wearing ethnic dress. They were expected to shake hands, sit on chairs, converse in Dutch and eat with knife and fork. 8 If the burghers and aristocrats were able to adapt, surely it was just a matter of time before the lower classes were also able to adapt too? Western-styled clothes were part of the image pursued and they were worn to reflect a worldly picture evident of progress and the future. In the process they relegated Ambonese dress to a seemingly static display of ethnicity, linking its wearer to the past. Long before World War I it was the Ambonese male who predominantly wore western dress and actively mirrored a western identity. Due to government jobs, trade and military engagement he found himself in close and active business contact with Europeans. Especially during the latter half of the nineteenth century expansion of trade and economic development gave rise to an Ambonese middle class that directly challenged the relationship between social hierarchy and the cultural and racial division between the Dutch and the Ambonese. As a consequence the Ambonese middle class started to indicate its social position through the adoption of western suits. However with adoption of western suits visual separation between colonial hierarchies was severely diminished. Although those Ambonese who worked in Dutch government positions were expected to wear western suits, it was vital for the colonizer that an ordered sense of cultural divide was maintained. In 1930 the Inspector of Education Mr van der Chijs, lamented: ‘in Ambon a certain intermingling between Europeans and natives exists. There, it can no longer be said where one begins and the other ends.

The separation between Europeans, native children and natives is almost no longer to be found. Although the Ambonese natives are by no means all on a good level of culture...’; he concluded that ‘the Ambonese wants to be a Dutchman as much as possible.’9 A regular dark male suit is classified as a uniform of sorts and should therefore be viewed within the same frame as those dress systems considered in the above paragraph. Ambonese males dressing in black western suits during Dutch colonial times ascribed to exchanging their own ethnic identity for that of the (western) collective. Their principal goal was to imitate western status and create a visual alignment with the colonizer in order to portray their acquired social and economic status. During the process of emulation they ended up relinquishing their individuality; therefore, within this context, submission of the self to the collective was an outcome rather than a deliberate choice. The placement of dress systems in this book is according to their usage. This then excludes the western suit worn by the Ambonese with European status from the ‘dominating’ dress frame and places it in the mirroring frame, because the main aim of wearing western suits was replicating status.

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European men in ‘ethnic dress’ Although the image of western suits in Ambon is most prominent, European men initially found it easier to discard their western dress in the privacy of their own homes and adopt a more relaxed outfit. In 1870 a new Agricultural Policy allowed Europeans to take out a 75-year lease on barren land. The recent opening of the Suez Canal facilitated easier access to Asia and several enterprising young European males settled in the central Moluccas. They quickly adapted to their new environment; indigenous women with whom they cohabited accommodated this easing-in process. As initially there was no direct access to western men’s clothing, local women developed a dress style for European men which was a variant of the sarong and baju or kebaya. Regular domestic dress for European men in the colonies became a slaapbroek (Dutch, literally ‘trousers to sleep in’) and baadje (Dutch, jacket style underwear, derived from the term ‘baju’). A slaapbroek consisted of long, wide Chinese-style trousers made of batiked material. At the top a white drawstring hem was attached.10 Initially the pants were made of batiks produced by the batik factories on the north coast of Java during the second half of the nineteenth century; each patterned part was separately decorated, often featuring a batiked braid on the side seam. Batik material used for the slaapbroek was not of the same design used by Javanese aristocrat and royal families; theirs was produced in patterns and colours exclusive to the members linked to those households.11 The batiks worn by totok men were, with the help of batik caps (stamps), mass produced in the Chinese and Eurasian batik ateliers situated along the Javanese north coast.12 If one wanted high quality materials, the fabrics came from The Netherlands. Since 1846 VLISCO, a textiles weaving and printing company in Helmond, a town in the south of The Netherlands produced imitations of well-known batik designs and began exporting them to the Dutch East Indies. However at the beginning of the 1900’s Vlisco met stiff competition from batik makers in Java and the Dutch Indonesian government began to regulate imports by charging high import taxes in order to protect local textiles industries.13

10 6

4.04

4.05 4.04 Western men wearing casual ‘house dress’ inspired by ethnic dress, Ambon, 1929 4.05 VLISCO imitation batik material, 1920

MIRRORING DRESS

4.06

4.07 4.06 Man in slaapbroek and baadje (casual day dress), Ambon, 1920 4.07 Dutch man in batik casual pants, 1904 4.08 VLISCO imitation batik material; contemporary design based on the Javanese Kemben wrap, 2010

4.08

Although called ‘pants to sleep in’ a slaapbroek was actually not used as nightwear, but as housedress. The baadje was a collarless, unlined, white cotton jacket, a variation on the Chinese jacket and therefore sometimes called baju Cina. These clothes were worn at home and the host could wear them receiving casual day visits of close friends, but they were not worn outside the private sphere.14 The batik trousers turned Javanese material into leisurewear for the Dutch ruling class. In public men wore their western suits or the jas tutup. Although at home European men appeared to mirror local dress, they did so on their own terms. Rather than wearing authentic local dress items or using a direct copy, they wore loose pants cut from batiked sarong material instead of a sarong as worn by Ambonese men. Wearing a distinctly different version of local ethnic dress allowed European and Eurasian men to maintain a visual difference from Ambonese men; after all native men were part of European household staff and one’s position needed to be clearly and immediately defi ned. The slaapbroek and baadje were significant in clothing development for European men as this dress system was the only time in colonial history European men wore clothes inspired by indigenous design. Mirroring aspects of an ethnic dress system lies in emulating a relaxed, unhurried tropical lifestyle, a studied constructed image of casual existence. The slaapbroek and baadje and the black western suit worn by the Ambonese were antithetical in physicality, yet both dress systems were identical in their aim in reflecting a desire – not actuality – of appropriating a ‘reality’. The slaapbroek and baadje were most poignant in that they were a fantasy outfit of a fantasy lifestyle; these items were not worn by Indonesians but they resembled clothing used. At least the western suit worn by the Ambonese was the actual dress worn by western men. The slaapbroek and baadje were worn until early twentieth century. Their demise was due to the arrival of western women in the central Moluccan islands.

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4.09

The greater influx of European women and their fear of becoming ‘contaminated and too native’ increased westernization of fashion and lifestyle and soon western ideals reigned supreme. By the late 1920s the use of slaapbroek and baadje was completely out of fashion.

Women’s wear One of the definitive mirroring dress examples in Ambonese colonial discourse was western dress as worn by Ambonese and Eurasian women. The image of a western world was represented through fashion that was made up of signs, dress items and objects not signifying materiality of culture, but indicating worldliness and colonial power through association. Mirroring dress was incessantly connected with the external self, not with the true inner being. The aim was to seem European, thus visually denying Amboneseness. Ethnic women wanted to appear European and become their equals, but they never wanted to lose their Ambonese identity. D Although frequent change of dress was expected and a distinct image projected, western dress of Ambonese women was essentially monadic in its form as western dress was a reflection of an imagined self. Western dress was appropriated in its entirety; mirroring did not call for personal praxis of designing and applying decorative effects. Western dress was meticulously copied either directly from magazines or from ensembles local totok women wore. It was completely unacceptable to mix ethnic dress or design elements with western items.15 Western dress was part of a prescribed and appropriated image, hence predictable in its constitution. Endless change in western fashion served to create continuous desire, for to appear western it was necessary to continuously change clothes and remain ‘in fashion’. The difference between the Ambonese women who wore western dress and the totok women in Ambon who wore western dress was the fact that Ambonese women did not subscribe to wanting to be ‘in fashion’; rather they wanted to visually ‘appear western.’ ‘You wanted to look European but deep in your heart you were always Moluccan.’16

10 8

D

The Christian Ambonese never wanted to change their ethnic identity (Bartels, 1989:25-26). Although they worshipped the Dutch royal family as the symbol of Dutch colonial power, they never relinquished the idea that all Ambonese (and in fact all mankind) originated at the sacred Mount Nunusaku, located in the western part of Seram, the mother island of the Ambonese (Bartels, 1994:256).

E

Madame Catenius-van der Meijden was an enterprising, influential Eurasian who wrote informative books with ‘handy’ suggestions for those women who were going to the Dutch East Indies at the start of the twentieth century.

F

Rapid expansion between 1890 and 1920 saw female immigration from the Netherlands to the Dutch East Indies rise by a phenomenal 300% (Van Doorn, 1994:43).

‘. ... the majority of Western women preferred their own version of ethnic attire....’ 4.10 4.09 Western women in sarong and kebaya, n/d 4.10 ‘Kabayas’ De Bijenkorf advertisement, 1910

MIRRORING DRESS

Western dress was of course in stark contrast to Ambonese ethnic dress as these dress systems were culturally prescribed and changed slowly and often imperceptibly. Western, rather than ethnic identity maintenance had become the mark of distinction as western dress indicated progress and modernity, personal liberty and colonial citizenship. Ethnic dress denoted inferiority and submission to colonial rule. Adopting western dress also included acquiring embodied mannerisms and posture related to western dress. Western dressed women sat on chairs, walked faster and with a longer stride, shook hands, ate with fork and knife, played tennis, and rode bicycles. However on Ambon until the beginning of the twentieth century very few women, even though they might have legally enjoyed European status, actually wore western dress due to a shortage of dress items. Even the majority of Eurasian women preferred to wear their version of ethnic attire, although this changed dramatically after World War I, when more western women entered the central Moluccan islands and items became more readily available. Local women who could wear western dress wanted to show membership and, according to Madame Catenius-van der Meijden E a self-appointed style guru, during the late colonial period the majority of Ambonese women with European status wore western clothes.17

The arrival of the totok woman From 1900 onwards, married men were allowed to take up postings in the Dutch East Indies. However, it was common until about 1918 that men were only allowed to get married or bring their wives and families after their fi rst furlough. It was assumed that one needed a ‘settlement period’ of at least a few years, and the distraction of wife and family would ultimately be most unproductive to the job at hand.18 The arrival of more totok (Western or Dutch born) women in the central Moluccas heralded a changing attitude towards the position of local women. F

Because of a greater influx of Dutch women in Ambon who exerted their mission prescribed in the Ethical Policy, female sexuality – and resulting offspring – became political discourse of a different kind. With the arrival of totok families during the beginning of the twentieth century a different class of Europeans developed. Members of this class were carefully screened from the ‘other Europeans’ (those of mixed blood), in case they ‘verindisched’ (became contaminated with Indies culture). Children were discouraged from playing with Eurasian children, wives did not mix with Eurasian women except as household staff, and Dutch and Ambonese families of European status did not spend any leisure time together.19 Suddenly, to be considered ‘real Dutch’ was contingent not on legal status but on the fact that the real Dutch were born and educated in the Netherlands. While at the beginning of the twentieth century the Ambonese distilled their ethnic identity with defi nitive dress styles, the European community in the central Moluccan islands underwent great change. Faster access to the East, facilitated by the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 and the lifting of the ban on settlement of married couples in 1900, eased the way for European women and after World War I more European families settled in the central Moluccan islands. Reorientation of the intimate hierarchy of women in the household appeared outside state control; however, literature advising Dutch women on the right codes of behaviour and conduct in the Indies as well as institutional instruction to would-be totoks in ‘tropical lifestyle’ attest to the fact that the new role for Dutch born and educated women included a ‘civilizing’ project of developing a carefully prescribed milieu in the colonies in order to ameliorate local society. The effects were felt throughout the Christian community as the arrival of European women downgraded local women’s status immediately; additionally their attempts to civilize and educate the Ambonese population and sanitize the environment widened the racial gap.

10 9

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Concubinism and mixed marriage had no place in the morale of early twentieth-century western resolve and ‘European born wives and white endogamy came to defi ne the new style of a modern colony that would efface its mestizo connection and culturally hybrid roots.’20 European wives introduced recent items of western fashion design and technology. The colourful and whimsical lines of western dress were assigned a different moral and aesthetic code than Ambonese dress systems, transforming each into differing economic and social discourses. Western dress referred to the body in a direct, overt way: a female body appeared physically independent, free of history and seemingly attainable; however the male partner used the female to display his economic power and possession, making it simultaneously unattainable. The status of western women rendered through dress was very much reliant upon the status of the male partner. The jas tutup was uniformlike and asserted a masculine confidence of colonial superiority. The pared-down, restrained subtleness of the jas tutup paired with the sumptuous colourful clothing and adornment of the totok women encapsulated the gender-segregated attitude of the Europeans towards dress. One ensemble was contingent on the other as the containment and repetition of the jas tutup design facilitated the exuberance, differentiation and placement of the dress of their women. In contrast Ambonese women’s dress was heavy, uniform, redolent of ethnic history, attainable, and referred to the body in veiled subtle ways, but it signalled women’s personal, independent socioeconomic status, unlike the western suit of Ambonese men that was indicative of colonial subservience. Western dress developed according to the principle of emulation.21 The need to aspire to a higher social and cultural order led to the development of dress systems, and indeed complete lifestyles, indicative of this desire. Far removed from their ancestral environment either physically or economically, and placed in a position of power under unique circumstances, Western dress development aimed to make visible a dreamscape that was often commensurate with a higher social status.

110

4.11

4.12 4.11 Mrs Tolk in sarong kebaya with her cook, Ambon, 1914 4.12 Mrs Tolk ready to bathe, Ambon, 1914

MIRRORING DRESS

4.13

4.14

This applied equally to the European expatriates settling in the central Moluccan islands as to those Ambonese who enjoyed European status. Dress facilitated the visual representation of these highly sought-after identities and thus signalled membership of these exclusive, constructed social groups. Eurasian and ethnic Ambonese women who were married to, or lived in defacto relationships with European men, were by association considered upper class. The arrival of more European women relegated ethnic and Eurasian women to a lower social rank. In the process of westernization concubinism was frowned upon and in cases where Ambonese women had initially acted as the head of households they suddenly found themselves as domestic servants, because one of the roles of the newly arrived European wife was to direct and supervise domestic staff. As responsible modern citizens European women were accountable for ‘civilizing and educating’ the local community and were expected to uphold the values of white morality and prestige. These values were exemplified in personal presentation and prescribed manners.22 After all, the natives were completely different people albeit not less than the Dutch. As life in the Dutch East Indies was generally an unknown quantity and more women followed their husbands to the land of ‘natives, wild beasts and serpents’ a complete new enterprise developed.23 The fear of sending European women into the ‘unknown’ (an unknown predominantly colonized by European men) was recognized by those who enthusiastically took it upon themselves to prepare Dutch women for life in the colonies.24 A variety of manuals and literature dispensing good advice in line with the Ethical Policy appeared on the Dutch market. 25 This culminated in 1920 in the opening of the Koloniale School voor Meisjes en Vrouwen (Colonial School for Girls and Women) in The Hague. Its home economics-based curriculum included Malay language, ethnology as well as food and family studies incorporating hygiene and tropical medicine.26

4.13 Mrs Tolk in the living room, Ambon 1914 4.14 Interior of Tolk family home, Ambon, 1914

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The School actively encouraged their pupils to rise to the national task of civilizing and educating domestic staff to ‘… create bonds of appreciation and devotion between the people of the Netherlands and the people of the Insulinde [the Indonesian Archipelago].’27 This was especially important for those women who settled in the outer regions of the archipelago as, more so than their sisters in Java, Dutch women found themselves often responsible for large extended families of domestic staff, sometimes inclusive of those who worked on the plantations and in factories managed by their husbands. The influx of new dress ideas indicated a turning point in the concept of dressing. Dress as worn by western women entered the fashion sphere as defi ned by Davis (1992), who stressed the importance of change as a differentiator between fashion and dress.28 Whereas traditional Ambonese dress items seemed a frozen and static display of ethnicity that was minutely observed, western dressed women tried to outdo one another in an effort to appear different. Ambonese dress was a measure of status towards the women themselves. It was clear from the ethnic Ambonese garments what social rank they enjoyed, if they were married, single, widowed, or had received European education. With the advance of western fashion, the paradigm of the status of women shifted the focus to the status of men. Rather than marking a woman’s status, as did Ambonese ethnic dress, western fashion denoted a father/husband’s status. Veblen in 1899 writes: ‘She is useless and expensive, and she is consequently valuable as evidence of pecuniary strength.’29 A woman was ‘useless’ because she did not work and consequently did not add to the family income thus making her ‘expensive’; in fact the more expensive she appeared the more ‘evidence’ there was of a man’s economic ‘strength’. Expense was not necessarily measured in money as the ‘receiving kebayas’ and Solo batiks cost a lot more money than western outfits.G Expense was measured in uniqueness (one-offs), origin (European) and the latest fashion style. The more unique and up to date a garment was, the better. The style had to be western and fit within a mode in vogue at that time.

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4.15

G

As Catenius-van der Meijden suggested in 1904, FL. 40,- to FL. 50,- for a Solo sarong, compared with some FL.12,for an expensive dress in the Netherlands, seems exorbitant (Catenius-van der Meijden 1904: cited in Bronkhorst 1996:30) But, according to Mrs Koopman (1900) ‘why curse the sarong and kebaya? Why close the eyes to this exquisite beauty, a masterpiece, worthy of your closest attention?’ (Koopman 1900:24).

4.16 4.15 Totok family, Ambon. Mr van Meurs dressed in Jas Tutup and Mrs van Meurs and child dressed in western clothing, Ambon, 1929 4.16 Madame Catenius v/d Meijden, 1913

MIRRORING DRESS

Not working (being ‘useless’) became a measure of status. Whereas highly regarded Ambonese and Eurasian women worked for the Church or as schoolmistresses, the place of European women was fi rmly at the helm of the family and household staff. Mid morning, when household staff was organized, according to instructions admonished by Madame Catenius-van der Meijden in her manual, women could shed their Indonesian negligé (their house dress), and change into their latest western outfit to receive or visit friends. The ritual of dressing up in western clothes held a variety of important values. As European men invariably wore the jas tutup, women dressed according to western fashion. For Europeans it was a way of upholding personal and national (Dutch) dignity and showing progress and power through visual alliance with the western world. For the Eurasians western fashion became a mark of association and identification with anything that was Dutch. Implementing European dress rules and regulations was also an unwritten etiquette (although Madame Catenius-van der Meijden would strongly disagree, as this rule featured prominently on her published list of etiquettes), associated with a traditionally superior class in the West. Those Europeans who lived in the Ambonese islands did not really belong to the European upper social strata, but by mirroring their rituals they could, at least for the duration of their stay in Ambon, fulfill their pretence of belonging to this higher social elite. Hence it was not only the Eurasians or Ambonese women with European status who wanted to reflect a western identity, European women wanted to replicate a western social class they actually did not belong to. Portraying conspicuous consumption signalled exclusive membership of the upper class within Ambonese colonial context. Dressing in western clothes also fostered innate superiority in elite social traditions such as those encouraged by military training. European men wore a uniform of sorts: the jas tutup was identical in all layers of society, the only status markers being the buttons, sleeve and shoulder decorations.

Therefore it was left to women to develop alternative identities, and they manipulated their ideological image by visually accentuating perceived social and economic status through their appearance. Ambonese women’s dress was predominantly black, western dress for European and Eurasian women was quite the opposite: light, feminine and above all colourful, the perfect way to enhance the colonial spectacle. Through the appearance of their women, European men asserted their authority. However, although dress and its opulence served as an indicator, one still had to know what to wear, where and when, and how to behave. As a woman’s social rank was intimately tied to the rank and status of her husband, she could not be better dressed than the wife of his superior.30 This acute sense of status as expressed in adherence to specific dress created a unique situation; western dress control was equal to dress control exercised within layers of ethnic Ambonese society. There is no direct information available describing the roles and relationships between Dutch women and Ambonese and Eurasian women in the central Moluccan islands after they settled there around the turn of the twentieth century, other than some family photographs. Some show a European woman and her domestic staff around 1914. It is from these private snapshots we can gain some insight into the workings of a Dutch household in the central Moluccan islands. We can view the interiors and the position domestic staff held during those times. At the start of the twentieth century European women were photographed in kain and kebaya, the European version of ethnic dress for totoks and Eurasians. There are also snapshots of domestic staff, who appear to take an active role into the running of the household. This is in stark contrast to the album of a Dutch family a decade later; there is only one photograph showing domestic staff and they are placed well behind the family. The Dutch woman is in western dress and appears fi rmly in charge of the household. Domestic staff work for her, rather than with her, and they know their place: behind the family members.

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If we then look at the 1929 album of another Dutch family we see a very fashionable European community pursuing tennis, soccer, theatre and socialising at the Dutch club; there are no ethnic Ambonese people visible at all. They have completely disappeared and the environment portrayed is more akin to a luxurious playground than the outer, backward regions of ‘Insulinde’. Although there must have been an army of domestic help as well as a vast community of ethnic Ambonese, they had retreated into the shadows of colonialism and have fallen completely off the family picture frames. With the influx of totok women it appeared that by the 1930s the project to vernederlandsen (Dutchify) colonial society in Ambon had largely succeeded. European households changed from being a conglomerate entity of European and Ambonese influences, to Dutch households situated in Ambon. Eurasian households followed suit but ethnic Ambonese households remained ethnic. By the late 1920s Dutch women had accomplished their aim of introducing ideas of superiority and power within the domestic sphere where western-style hygiene, education and an upper-class western lifestyle of leisure and play reigned supreme. A concerted disciplined effort articulated to what length they went to simulate upper-class membership.

4.17

..... ethnic Ambonese retreated into the shadows of colonialism..... 4.18

4.17 Indische equipment, 2nd fl oor De Bijenkorf, Den Haag, 1930 4.18 Various mail order brochures covers, n/d

114

MIRRORING DRESS

4.19

Dress development of totok women During the nineteenth century dress styles of Eurasians and Ambonese women with European status were closely linked to dress worn by the Javanese with similar status during that time. Although their fashion ideas quickly spread to the central Moluccan islands, the majority of Christian Ambonese women maintained the plain knee-length long-sleeved white kebaya over a chequered kain. In the early twentieth century totok women in the central Moluccas wore the shorter lace-trimmed 3/4-sleeved kebaya over a batik kain. They were advised during the long trip to the Dutch East Indies to change into the ‘Indonesian negligé of real, batiked Solo sarong of FL. 40,- or FL. 50,- or more. As well as beautifully embroidered and richly decorated “receiving kebayas” which are worth at least FL. 25,- to FL. 30,-.’ One learned quickly to appreciate the ‘glory’ of these items of clothing.31 The formation of a class structure modelled on a European elite saw the development of a fantasy made ‘real’ through the creation of luxurious environments, modes of behaviour and dress. The dress system of European women shared the same aim as its male counterpart of slaapbroek and baadje: replication of an exotic dream. It needs to be said that this replication only went as far as adopting/simulating certain dress items; there was no adoption of embodied Ambonese practice. Although dressed in ethnic-styled clothing Europeans still sat on chairs, ate with knife and fork and generally moved and behaved in a western manner. Their homes and public spaces were planned along western colonial architectural principles and their interiors were based on western designs. Slowly but surely however the wearing of sarong and kebaya became associated with the older colonial generation and with local tradition. As such, dressing in sarong and kebaya as well as slaapbroek and baadje became a visual entity only observed within the privacy of the home. This trend was further emphasized by Madame Catenius-van der Meijden. In 1908 she wrote: ‘…when visiting, sarong and kebaya are no longer reçu H …’

4.20

4.19 Ms Dolly van Kempen, Ambon, 1929 4.20 Mrs Hoogeveen-Dorren sporting Jazzera fashion and short bobbed hairstyle, Ambon, 1929

H

Reçu (French), ‘appropriate’.

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One is considered undressed if one is clothed in Indonesian fashion during those times of the day when everyone is dressed in European manner. One is then considered ill. One can assign this illness to laziness or indolence.’32 The colonial fantasy of life as exotic aristocracy had now become akin to apathy and indolence, and ethnic-styled dress was equal to being naked and ill, rendering Ambonese in ethnic dress lazy and incompetent. Publicly and privately the Europeans constructed a colonial ‘reality’ of superior – but sympathetic – modernity. Their dichotomy of dress practice was synonymous with the dress practice of the Ambonese and Eurasians. They, however, wore western dress (their constructed fantasy) predominantly outside their home and usually changed into ethnic dress once inside their own environment.33 In contrast the totoks wore ethnic-styled dress inside their western-styled homes and western dress in the public (ethnic) arena. Under the instruction of Madame Catenius-van der Meijden, ethnic dress disappeared from public view. In line with the ‘civilization mission’ of the Ethical Policy, people who dressed in sarong and kebaya (i.e. household staff) needed educating in presentation and demeanour. By the middle of the 1920s kain and kebaya as well as slaapbroek and baadje were considered ‘too Indonesian’ or ‘too native’ (read ‘backwards’), and of course one did one’s best not to become ‘contaminated.’34 Now that kain and kebaya were considered ‘common’ and a different view of ethnic people started to permeate white colonial society, European women were forced to reconsider not only self- and family presentation, but also how to present their western household and how to protect their family and household from ‘verindischen’ (cultural contamination), because included in a colonial Dutch household was a sizeable retinue of ethnic staff. I To maintain the carefully constructed dream of wealth and upper-class position it was important that servants’ appearance reflected social rank. Ethnic people were generally seen as dirty, lazy and unreliable but with proper education and civilization they could be trained as devoted loyal domestic servants who upheld modern western notions of morality, cleanliness and hygiene.

116

I

During the late colonial period, four to eight domestic servants was a generally accepted number. The higher the social position of the family, the more domestic staff they had. Even in dire economic circumstances Dutch colonial families adhered to this ostentatious privilege of power (Locher-Scholten 2000:90-91).

4.21 Totok family, Ambon, 1929

MIRRORING DRESS

Western fashion development of Eurasian women and those with European status Gradually, during the fi rst half of the twentieth century those with European status started to dress according to the latest western fashions. New styles and modes became the focus of European fashion worn in Java and Sumatra. Fashion there set the tone for the clothes worn in the Moluccas. Wearing western dress indicated superior class and privilege. Although one was Eurasian or Ambonese with European status, wearing western dress signalled social equality and emancipation similar to that enjoyed by western women at that time. Visually at least, one was becoming indistinguishable from other Europeans. For Ambonese women western dress also meant that they could exercise creative control, as clothing options and combinations were endless. Traditional dress demanded strict control and execution of homogeneous styles fashioned within a certain structure. Western dress demanded the exact opposite. It was important, within socially constructed expectations, to appear as individual and different as possible. Unlike embroidery design development applied to ethnic clothing items such as the mustisa and the ciolé practised by Ambonese women, creative control in western dress pertained predominantly to fabric choice (European of course), combinations of garment designs and dress items. The local Chinese shops supplied the fabrics and lace trimmings. Thus, with the help of the jahit (dressmaker) and a variety of magazines like Maandblad voor de Vereeninging van Vrouwenkleeding (‘Monthly Magazine of Women’s Fashion’), Mode’Orient and Echo: Weekblad voor Dames uit Indie (‘Echo: Women’s Weekly for the Dutch East Indies’), the upper and middle classes set out to dress themselves in the latest popular fashion. ‘Home made’ was based on designs copied from magazines, as well as catalogues from such fashionable shops like Gerzon and De Bijenkorf. During the twentieth century western dresses were made from fabrics produced by the famed Tobralco or VLISCO factories in the Netherlands; they were imported and distributed all over Indonesia.

These fabrics sported colourful floral patterns or butterfly motifs printed on lightweight, fast-dyed and ‘tropics proof’ material. 35 Chinese silk could be used but Indonesian batik was absolutely out of the question.36 One took great pains not to associate modern western dress with an ethnic past. Women’s dress as worn in the central Ambonese islands during the fi rst half of the twentieth century denoted a flexible hierarchy where the cultural context determined the relative value of superiority. As already mentioned, western dress was reflective of the husband’s socioeconomic status. The garments were light and colourful, the women showed naked arms and shoulders and cut their hair short. Positions as director or board member for the local Societeit (social club), membership of lawn tennis club boards and local theatrical societies kept women in (unpaid) positions quite busy. The higher the husband’s status, the more domestic staff women looked after; and then there were the soirees, cocktail parties, thé-dansants and dinner parties to organize. The higher on the social ladder the woman was, the more she was perceived as a role model for the younger and newer totoks, the more exclusive, expensive and fashionable her outfits were. Dutch women whose husbands occupied lesser roles within the European community dressed down, the fabrics might be a little cheaper, ‘home made’ versus ‘made in Holland’ and not so fashionable as to outdo the higher-ranking wives. These women did not have such a large retinue of domestic staff, and although some held memberships on various boards they did not much of this ‘social charity’ work and in fact had more idle time on their hands compared with higher-ranking wives.37 Mirroring the lifestyle and dress of Dutch bourgeoisie allowed the Dutch in the East Indies to play out aristocrat roles, which they would never be able to do once back in the motherland. A prescriptive identity of how upper-middle-class people were supposed to appear was not an affirmation of reality. It was not a reflection of shared experience and knowledge, but a constructed fantasy of government-sanctioned desire that was exercised on the bodies of the Dutch and Ambonese colonial servants.

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4.22

These dramatic tableaux vivants were symbolic of Europeans in a highly rendered environment of colonial style that was increasingly alienated from Ambonese reality, affi rming their hegemony. Focusing western discourse of middle-class respectability and sexual morality in a domestic colonial milieu saw the development of a unique Ambonese identity that was a Dutch colonial fantasy set against an implausible backdrop. Ambonese dress was reflective of women’s socioeconomic roles. Garments were stiff, more bodily restrictive, heavy, and in dark, muted colours. Dress covered the wearer from neck to foot, no bare arms showed and hair was kept long. Dress was testimony to women’s personal achievement, family or clan background, Dutch education or marriage partnership. Women’s higher social status was indicated through specific dress styles and they too acted as role models for the lower-ranking women and the younger generation. The main difference was that Ambonese women’s roles were in a paid position and that the more prestigious women held better-paid jobs (teachers), whereas the roles of Dutch women exclusively focused on a home-based content and the concept of motherhood and husband support. 38 Paradoxically, the work of totok women of the highest status, such as the wife of the Governor, was unpaid, although it was almost the equivalent of a full-time position, 39 making a mockery of Veblen’s (1899) image of the ‘useless and expensive’ wife.

Europeans (lived in a highly rendered environment of colonial life style, which became increasingly alienated from Ambonese reality.’

4.23 4.22 Mrs Ting van Nieuwenhuizen in tennis outfit, Ambon, 1929 4.23 Duyverman family with domestic staff, Ambon, 1930

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MIRRORING DRESS

Dressing domestic staff

4.24

4.25

4.24 Old sewing machines, 1880 4.25 Jahit (seamstress), 1909

It was the totok woman who had the power of direct access to Ambonese bodies by her intimate association with domestic staff. The very close physical proximity between servants and colonial masters was in direct contrast with colonial views publicly expressed about these people. A strict hierarchical environment demanded compliance and devotion of domestic staff; this situation resulted in a clearly defi ned pattern of authority. Servants were accused of endangering health and morally corrupting family members; therefore children should be fed by their mother, but concurrently the food was prepared by the indigenous kokki (kitchen maid) and served by the jongos (house boy). Clothing and household linen were made of western fabrics and styled in the western fashion, but fitted and made by a jahit (seamstress); nonetheless she was to strictly segregate these clothes from those of her own, for fear of contamination.40 The babu (nanny) cleaned and attended to the most private quarters in the home, such as the bedrooms and bathrooms, and also was entrusted with the care of the children;41 however, she was condemned for spoiling them as she easily gave in to their wishes. It was in this ambivalent context within their own homes that European women made it their responsibility to educate and civilize her servants, starting with their personal presentation. Of course the household staff consisted of only ‘genuine natives’ who would try to dress themselves; but, admonished Madame Catenius-van der Meijden (1908) this was not to be accepted, it was better to ‘dress the native yourself’, as ‘he will wear a livery with pleasure during the day in the house and when taken on a visit’. She followed this sage advice with a description of the kinds of clothes she thought appropriate: ‘White pantaloons, kain or sarong, a loose white vest (also called a ‘kamisool’) edged with red, blue or yellow cotton ribbons. And a matching headdress to complete the outfit.’ This was the cheaper version; the more upmarket version saw the native dressed in a ‘long baju that reaches the knees, usually made from coloured chintz or sometimes made from yellow drill’.42

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After ethnic and Eurasian women had held such prominent places within Ambonese colonial households either as wives or concubines, it is telling that with the arrival of totok women, ethnic men moved to the forefront of domestic staff and ethnic women became invisible. It was the driver and the jongos who were on display with their newly designed outfits, whereas the female servants remained largely out of sight. J The concept of specially designed uniforms for domestic staff epitomized the desire of creating a colonial dreamscape where ordinary totok women suddenly saw themselves and their families occupying the upper ranks of society. This situation created a paradox in the civilizing of ethnic domestic staff. A distinct fantasy version of a ‘native costume’ would on the one hand enhance and underscore ethnic identity (although not ethnic diversity), and underscore colonial difference. On the other hand, it was expected that ethnic Ambonese displayed behaviour patterns akin to western standards. This produced a double dichotomy of people visually portraying a western construct of an ethnic identity through their dress, but displaying western mannerisms and behavioural patterns when placed in a Dutch colonial environment.43 Although the Ambonese and Eurasians who dressed in western clothes tried to display their ability to embody western mannerisms and behaviour patterns, they were, according to western observers, not always successful.44 For the Ambonese this situation created an almost schizophrenic condition where presentation of the self through behaviour and body movement was reliant upon their accurate understanding of situational context, rather than personal presentation associated with personal or group identity indicated through dress. Although certain conduct was expected, as mentioned, it was not always appreciated. Roelfsema, a planter who spent a year in the Moluccan islands in 1917 lamented: ‘An Ambonese considers himself a gentleman who likes to aggrandise himself in his western suit but he won’t turn his hand to anything.’45 This statement not only implies that a visual western identity goes hand in hand with assuming responsibility and good work ethnics,

120

but that these qualities cannot be expected from an indigenous person, even if his appearance suggests otherwise. Regular ridicule of Ambonese in western dress and continuous remarks about their lack of hygiene empowered the Ethical Policy notion of ‘civilizing and educating’, and what better way to start than with the body, as the self was being civilized and educated through Christianity.46 Household staff included those who worked on staff at the Governor’s residence. Because these people were employed at the highest level in a domestic context they set the example in terms of work produced, work ethic, conduct and personal presentation.47 Other Ambonese domestic staff and Europeans followed their lead, albeit at a level commensurate to the position of the employer. The accommodation and lifestyle of new arrivees could not outshine the ones who had settled in the Moluccas already, and the number of domestic personnel depended on the husband’s position within government or private practice and was under no circumstance to be larger than one’s superior.48 Domestic staff found themselves displaying work routines and embodied characteristics shaped by western expectation mixed with an Ambonese identity represented through ethnic dress. Sometimes staff dressed in ensembles designed and constructed by the Dutch according to their interpretation of ethnic Ambonese dress. Being of Ambonese extraction, wearing a fantasy creation of Ambonese ethnic dress designed by western women, displaying western skills in a colonially constructed environment founded on western architectural principles, speaking Dutch and purporting to be ‘truly’ Ambonese created a bizarre condition of binary dichotomy, the crowning folly of Ambonese identity. This supposed ethnic identity remains one of the more unique sights in Ambonese dress repertoire, as the only Ambonese element in all this was the individual wearing the outfit. Experience of the ethnic self was to be strenuously denied. In all respects − dress, body presentation, language, demeanour, work attitude and skill − he or she was reliant on the demands of the employer. This vision was a fantasy created by Dutch women under the tutelage of Madame Catenius-van der Meijden, making domestic staff complicit in the creation of the ‘Insulinde’ experience.

MIRRORING DRESS

Children’s wear

4.26 Jantje Tolk goes to school, Ambon, 1914

J

This hierarchy is in line with Javanese tradition where the male resides in the ‘outer world’ of display and representation. He also received guests in the ‘male’ part of the house: the galleries and reception room. The females’ domain was the inner space and the back areas of the house (Locher-Scholten 2000: 91-92).

K

These shirts were also known as ‘Schiller shirts’, named after the poet who used to wear them (Bronkhorst and Wils, 1996:108); personal communication Seluta 2001; Siwalete 2001.

From the second decennia of the twentieth century Ambonese of all social ranks dressed their children in western-styled clothes, at least until they reached puberty. Reaching out through their children all Ambonese could at last lay claim to satisfying some measure of egalitarianism. Not only were Ambonese children dressed as western children, the majority also received education in the Dutch language in the European primary schools.49 It is striking to note that Ambonese children usually wore western clothing even though their mothers were often clad in traditional ethnic dress. Of course this had not always been the case. It was common practice until well into the twentieth century for Ambonese children until the age of about seven to run around naked.50 Gradually during the late nineteenth century more and more children started to attend school dressed in a long black baju, boys often without pants, girls with a kain. Van Hoëvell observed boys attending school clad only with a shoulder cloth.51 Eurasians, those with European status, the military and the Rajah would all send their children to school dress in baju with kain for the girls or loose drawstring pants for the boys. All went barefoot. From 1900 onwards, school clothing consisted of a whitetunic styled shirt with a flat Peter Pan style collarK and navy or green shorts for boys, a celana monyet for girls.52 Although this has the appearance of a uniform, there was no prescribed dress code for schoolchildren. After puberty Ambonese boys wore long black pants with a white shirt; girls turned to ethnic Christian Ambonese dress of white long kebaya over a checkered kain. Young Europeans and Eurasians maintained their western clothing, visually separating the ethnic Ambonese from those with European status upon maturity.53

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Celana monyet The celana monyet, or monkey pants, became the most common type of dress worn by children until about the age of ten. This version of the romper suit typified all children’s dress worn during the fi rst half of the twentieth century in Ambon and in other areas of the Dutch East Indies. Boys and girls wore it alike, regardless of class or ethnic background, and were always barefooted. A variety of styles developed, though what they all had in common was the fact that the loose garment consisted of one piece. Mothers and their seamstresses developed different variations from the simple straight version, a rectangular piece of material, folded in half with room cut out for the legs and arms, gathered with a drawstring tied over the shoulders, to an elegant one with trouserlegs, sleeves, pockets and collars. For most Ambonese children this garment was their regular day-dress, unlike European and Eurasian children who wore the celana monyet only at home. They were dressed ‘properly’ when attending school or activities outside the home.54 ‘Proper’ attire for all boys, Ambonese or western, consisted of a white shirt and navy or dark green long shorts. Sailor suits were also very popular − usually all white, either with long short pants or full-length ones, with a white top sporting removable navy sailor’s collar and cuffs. Often the collar was fi nished with a tie of the same navy fabric. Leather ankle boots or sandals completed the outfit. Girls’ dresses were quickly adapted from the latest European fashion and made of thin cotton material, usually with short sleeves or sleeveless. They were initially white, but during the 1930s floral and striped fabrics were also used. All seams were reinforced as clothing needed to be repeatedly washed.55 The use of batik material was carefully avoided for dresses as well as the celana monyet as this was considered too ‘native’. These items were considered ‘European’ clothing, and therefore only European fabrics were to be used and ‘one took great pains in separating Indonesian fabrics from western fashion.56 This comment was reflective of the ambivalent nature of ethnic identity as experienced by Ambonese women who made their children’s clothes.

4.27

4.28

4.27 Children in sailor suits, 1905 4.28 Girl in celana monyet, 1900 4.29 Duyverman boys in Schiller shirts, Ambon, 1928 4.30 Totok children, 1920

4.30 4.29

122

MIRRORING DRESS

‘Western dress was never considered complete without socks and shoes.’

4.31

To satisfy their yearning for equality of socioeconomic status and parity with the Dutch, they revised the mundane and sought refuge in constructed dreamscapes by creating western children’s clothes in order to mimic European children’s identity. European children, on the other hand, were dressed in the celana monyet to allow them to ‘settle’ and ‘cope’ with the heat. Like their Ambonese counterparts, European mothers had created a dress style, which they thought addressed distinctive Indonesian environmental and cultural issues. The celana monyet was light and easy to wear in the heat and reflected a unique childhood of outdoor play in a comfortable and above all lenient milieu. Whereas the Ambonese saw the celana monyet as western dress, the Europeans considered this outfit ‘tropical’ or ‘native.’57 Most telling was the fact that the celana monyet was worn without shoes. Western dress was never considered complete without socks and shoes. Thus when children were dressed ‘properly’ their actual garment may have been based on the celana monyet design but the wearing of socks and shoes elevated the outfit to acceptable standards within western dress expectations.

Clothing care and personal hygiene 4.32

4.33 4.31 Totok children in Western dress, 1905 4.32 Jantje & Abby Tolk in celana monyet, Ambon, 1918 4.33 Baboes (nannies) washing Dutch child, 1915

With the arrival of more European women, a different notion of hygiene and cleanliness arrived in the Moluccas. In their desire to maintain superiority over the colonized, as well as to preserve their carefully constructed ‘upper society’, totok women adopted a cleanliness-is-next-to-Godliness attitude and set out to sanitize the colonies. Ambonese domestic staff were carefully instructed in western household matters according to the lessons learned at the Colonial School in The Hague. Domestic service was initially employed by the male European immigrant to help in household matters as, apart from a general need to aid with domestic matters, household staff added to colonial prestige. Local women who married or lived in concubinary fashion with Europeans found themselves as heads of domestic staff.

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According to long-standing European traditions domestic servants were considered as part of the family; they were an indispensable ingredient of domestic Dutch colonial society.58 Servants traditionally lived in the back section of the compound, often with members of their own families. Initially notions of hygiene accorded to standards dictated by the indigenous head of the household. However, the newly arrived totok women set a different hygienic benchmark, especially with regard to clothing.59 Clothing needed to be purchased or made, but above all it needed to be aired, cleaned, ironed and mended. With the arrival of western fashions, specific colours were introduced into the garments worn in Ambonese society. Riedel (1886) already noted the profusion of dark blue and black. He surmised that the colonizers did not allow Christians the use any bright colours. 60 Pristine white was introduced as a colour for the male Christian elite in the form of the jas tutup, as well as for the Eurasian women and those with European status as a defi ning element in personal dress. To enable these women visual differentiation from those of non-European status a white cotton hip-length kebaya edged with European lace was worn. 61 During the fi rst half of the twentieth century European fashions gradually added more colour to the clothing palette. Of course there had always been a variety of colour in the garments worn in the central Moluccas; the beautiful batiks, the brightly patterned kebayas of the Muslim women and the chequered red or green kains worn by the Christians attest to that. However the colour dominating ethnic Ambonese life was black. Add to that the white jas tutup, white underwear and stockings as well as children’s wear and one had a sizeable laundry basket full at the end of each week. The treatment of clothes developed its own rituals along the flux of eastern and western notions of cleanliness and technologies based on racial lines. 62 Under the helpful guidance of Madame Catenius-van der Meijden and other authors of domestic science, women set out to clean their environment and to make sure their clothes stayed ‘European’ (clean) and did not become ‘native’ (dirty).

12 4

Redefi nition of the Ambonese hierarchical order reinforced clothing difference and the treatment of clothing. Not only did clothing strictly delineate class; with the arrival of totok women it also delineated race. Cleaning and clothing care followed strict guidelines. Madame Catenius-van der Meijden advised that all domestic staff were there to clean and she warned, they all needed constant supervision to make sure they kept the ‘modern home’ as well as themselves in pristine order. She further recommended the lady of the house keep a key ring holding all room and cupboard keys securely fastened to her belt. This was necessary in order to stop the servants from succumbing to temptation, as they would surely be pressured by their families to give in to the lure. After all, Madame cautioned, ‘Their kin, those folk from the kampung, are the parasites of our servants.’63 Not only were the natives unable to dress themselves properly, their clothes were not to ‘contaminate’ the washing of the household; thus at the end of the week, their clothing was to go to ‘the laundry in separate bundles from the main wash.’64 Mrs Székely-Lulofs went even further and offered that combining the washing from the household with that of the servants was ‘a serious offence against tradition.’65 Madame’s comrade in arms, J. Kloppenburg-Versteegh, insisted that ‘all items need counting at least twice. Do not ever consider leaving this up to the laundry man. One needs to be fastidious in checking all items upon return and assure oneself that the washing is clean, there are no holes burnt and no pieces are torn.’66 Both ladies lamented the fact that the rough treatment of ‘banting’ was most undesirable but also unavoidableL; ‘they can’t help themselves’ according to Madame. 67 Douglas (1973) defi ned this fear of literal and symbolic pollution as a fear of intrusion into prescribed social order. 68 Personal hygiene of servants was also accorded close scrutiny, and a profusion of imported soaps, shampoos and detergents were made available to replace locally produced soaps and balms.

MIRRORING DRESS

Eurasians and those with European status also eagerly adopted these items. Initially KNIL wives purchased these goods at the local Javanese markets and brought them to the central Moluccas and totok women placed mail orders from the Netherlands or Java until they were readily available in the Ambon region. ‘We used Sunlight soap and shampoo from Holland as local brands were really only for other Ambonese.’69 For the Ambonese and the Eurasian women, embracing a western routine of clothing care and hygiene completed the elusive transformation to the higher sphere of a much-wanted western status. Replication of appearance enhanced by an acquired western physicality was regimented in a western routine of personal hygiene and grooming. This was the closest the Ambonese could come to achieve equality based on manifestation of one’s exterior.

4.34

Conclusion

4.35 4.36 4.34 Banting, washing clothes, 1900 4.35 Mrs Kloppenburg-Versteegh, 1925 4.36 Mrs Kloppenburg-Versteegh, with her children, 1899

L

Banting is beating wet washing against a stone or wooden rack in order to loosen dirt.

In the cupboards of the people who inhabited the central Moluccan islands during colonial times there was a range of garments that indicated a desire of belonging to an image. Depending on one’s social, cultural, economic and political position these garments signified an endless production of the need to convey an impression, whether it was the upper strata of European society, the relaxed tropical paradise or western status. These dreamscapes created a series of clothing that exemplified membership of these constructed social groups. The ensuing dress formed a link between association with these dreamscapes and one’s body. Mirroring its visual signs epitomized membership. The main differences between totoks on the one hand and Eurasians and Ambonese with European status and later the ethnic Ambonese on the other, is that the totoks mirrored ethnic dress within the privacy of their home whereas the latter group mirrored western dress in a public domain. The totoks were fastidious in maintaining western body traits and were careful not to adopt ethnic embodiment.

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For the Ambonese it was an expectation among themselves and wider society they acquire western characteristics. The imagined, created ‘realities’ were kept real by the visual representation of the desire to belong, and this desire was externalized through dress objects. These objects of dress were associated with a selfconsciousness of social position and were therefore predictable in design and composition. Ultimately they were monadic as they projected desire to oneself. These dress systems were contingent on the remaining of desire and need for social mobility. As long as this need existed these dress systems existed. The reason for the demise of the slaapbroek and baadje and the kain and kebaya ensemble for totoks was that the sociocultural context of Europeans came to be viewed from a different perspective. A steady arrival of totok wives coupled with the introduction of the Ethical Policy ensured that the private world of the Europeans became a colonial project of ‘Dutchifying’ the Dutch East Indies, without much regard for Indonesian sociocultural settings.70 Totoks did not want to be considered equal with the ‘other’, they wanted to defi ne a more distinct difference between them and the Eurasian and Ambonese; therefore dress regime and personal care within the home became westernized as a reflection of European longing, and personal presentation included the use of western objects. Their need to create a dreamscape and belong in this unique environment initially saw them mirror ethnic dress. When the focus shifted from an ethnic dreamscape to upper-class European society, expensive western fashion and lifestyle replaced ‘ethnic’ dress. This reconceptualization enabled the need and desire for mirroring social mobility to remain. Western women developed an unlikely visual identity that was largely based on their exclusive social position enjoyed when they arrived in the central Moluccas. The identities forged while in the colonial setting pertained to that context only, and the identities of a woman, her children and indeed the entire household staff were established solely around the rank of her husband.71 Thus developed an identity

126

‘dreamscape’, an imagined society constructed around colonial need to enforce visual separation from the colonized as well as the desire for hierarchical defi nition within this imagined culture. This need was articulated within Dutch East Indies society and implemented across all levels in the Dutch colonial community.72 Western women did not stop at designing their and their families’ colonial image − they were also encouraged to take responsibility for constructing the embodied image and physical and spiritual wellbeing of those under their employment.73 This acknowledges my argument that colonial society and its visible emblems were deliberately constructed, and therefore that these identities were fictional. That they were indeed illusory is proven by the fact that when these people returned home to their Dutch towns and villages and picked up the threads of their regular Dutch lives, these identities became obsolete.74 The pared-down form of the male jas tutup and the sumptuous colourful clothing and adornment of the totok women neatly encapsulated a western attitude towards dress. One ensemble was contingent on the other, as the containment and repetition of jas tutup design facilitated the exuberance, differentiation, and placement of the dress of the women.

‘. .... the identities of a women and those of her children were establishd solely around the rank of her husband.’

MIRRORING DRESS

127

Communicative dress

CHAPTER FIVE COM MU N ICATI V E DR ESS

‘ ‘There is no need to decorate the front of the ciole as the front of our body is beautiful enough.’ Agnes Matitaputty, 2001

CHAPTER FIVE

T

his chapter examines various dress systems that illustrate identity construction by evoking an ethnic self. There is an important distinction between systems considered within the mirroring and dominating dress chapters and those that are analysed here. The former assumed other identities and grafted these onto the body in order to display supposed status, rank, or devotion, whereas the dress analysed below explores a strong measure of personal, creative control and agency. The results are ensembles that synthesize fragments of identity and invent new idealized ones. Communication of the ethnic self produced a diverse and interesting range of dress systems worn in the central Moluccan islands prior to and during Dutch colonial times. This chapter explores and analyses the origin and major influences of a variety of these systems, and includes descriptions of dress that are considered for their communicative power. Celebrating ethnicity and heritage in the knowledge that one’s visual identity commemorates cultural values and ideals is also a celebration of the fact that one is secure in the safety of one’s own ethnic being. And thus the circle of various dress practices closes. Recognition of the social self and acknowledgement of ethnicity within a cultural context generates the need to display membership through clothing and adornment. In specific instances such as life rites and cultural celebrations idealized visions of ethnicity are constructed and presented. These can take the form of dress and adornment but also include the creation and presentation of art, music, dance, theatre, stories (and histories), architectural objects and environments, and the like. The formation of ethnic discourse locates its ultimate identity in the presentation of the ‘ideal’. The ideal cultural appearance of the self involves communicating through dress and deportment; thus ideal-

13 0

typical examples are constituted in their own discursive practices. Distinctive examples that communicate ideal-typical identities can be found in life rites, cultural activities, and ethnic celebrations. The clothing worn during these festivities makes ethnic practice visible on the body, and objects and ritual are symbolically charged with notions of personal and collective history and mediated by embodied experiences. Ultimately communicative dress is not constrained by ethnic practice but instead these practices enable dress systems to be developed. As a result dress ensembles emerge that propose to be ‘true’ indications of identity. This chapter explores how these systems are used to communicate identity and how this exchange is dyadic: via the self towards society. The body then, is not used as a surface to be dominated, or a device that allows mirroring an ideal, but instead it is used as an expressive entity to (re)create society.1 This chapter is divided into two parts: the fi rst part presents an analysis of autochthonous Ambonese dress. Autochthonous dress relates to adornment praxis that existed prior to European settlement and can be distinguished from early written and illustrated records of the sixteenth and seventeenth century, as well as photographic material from the late nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries. Other dress systems discussed in this thesis found their impetus in the tension between colonial and religious power and maintenance and display of the ethnic self, making these systems open to external influences. Autochthonous dress is wholly constituted on the dimensions of the self in an ethnic context, making these systems closed within one’s own milieu. Autochthonous dress can be described as non-interventionist; these dress systems were practised prior to colonial settlement and throughout most the period of colonial rule. 2 This dress system stayed relatively independent of colonial influence in its further development, but there are defi nitive references to autochthonous dress elements throughout other Ambonese dress systems developed since European incursion. The other ‘communicative’ example explored in the fi rst part is underwear. The Ambonese retained an unusual link to pre-colonial notions of identity and autochthonous dress expression through their use of undergarments.

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

Although inspiration, design, and construction were taken directly from undergarments worn in Europe during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, undergarments were used in a manner that underscored the unique position and became a celebration of womanhood in Ambonese society. The second part of the chapter examines the ultimate display of Ambonese identity: Ambonese bridalwear. Ambonese wedding dress was the ideal-typical communicative dress system as it rendered ethnic identity in a colonial context in a most conclusive manner. This part describes the wedding ritual and how women displayed personal control over their bodies and their position within ethnic culture and colonial society. It is the dress style worn during Ambonese weddings as well as the elaborate ritual that has survived to the present. Expatriate Ambonese brides in the Netherlands as well as in Jakarta and the USA currently wear it A because it is considered the ultimate display of ethnic Moluccan identity.3

A

5.02 5.02 Alifuru children, 1890 5.03 Alifuru fi shermen, n/d

In the Netherlands and Jakarta a healthy wedding industry has developed to assist brides to hire or purchase Ambonese wedding attire and help with traditional wedding planning.

5.03

131

CHAPTER FIVE

Communicative dress in the colonial Ambonese context Communicative dress systems are an approximation of that which in itself is an ideal: a quixotic identity. Ambonese dress ensembles considered within the communicative frame conveyed praxis of visually representing that ideal. Synthesis and reconfiguration of these identities exemplified execution of engagement with unique Ambonese characteristics and evolving design and technologies. This convergence produced systems that were in the process of creating themselves, and were used to present ‘true’ ethnic identities. Ambonese identities discussed in this chapter are true visual images of ethnic identity in the sense that they are the products of interplay between various measures that are circumscribed by Adat practices, technologies of the self, religious exposure, and colonial and local power structures. Unity of these discourses defi nes development and transformation of the self and the objects related to achieve this transformation.4 Communicative dress is contingent on the need to (re) formulate and realize cultural identity. Constructed dress items seek to produce tangible evidence of Amboneseness. These items are then assembled forming discourses projected to others; therefore communicative dress is ultimately dyadic in its expression. Image is strongly associated with ethnic society and local culture, as well as the self; the body realizes itself through dress, most graphically shown with Ambonese underwear.

5.04

5.05

5.04 Alifuru Tattoo designs 5.05 Maluku warriors, Manipa Island, 1724

132

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

Autochthonous dress The Ambonese liberal style of dress is considered within a communicative dress frame because it is unique in its construction and purpose. This dress system occupies a distinctive place within the dress framework as it not only became the catalyst for subsequent development of various Ambonese dress systems as discussed throughout this book, but also because it was a system that over time became elevated to a position synonymous with Adat tradition in Ambonese society. Although during colonial times autochthonous dress was considered barbaric and uncultivated, during the fi rst half of the twentieth century it underwent a transformation of meaning, as aspects of this system became symbolic dress indicating the origin of Ambonese culture. Ironically this created a paradox: on the one hand this dress system was dismissed as unsophisticated and uncultured, and on the other hand it was revered as a component of traditional Adat.5 Body coverings and decoration that developed in the period leading up to foreign incursion through trade, emerged from basic fundamental needs directly known through physiological understanding. 6 The intuitive mapping of embodiment advanced cognition of physical needs, allowing for optimum functioning of the body within the Ambonese context. This recognition of corporeal needs and fundamental environmental knowledge resulted in the development of personal items for interaction within local milieus. These included items of protective measure, such as foot protection guarding the feet from sharp objects, head wraps to shield from sun or rain, and items that had regulatory functions such as hip covers securing reproductive organs and/or adapting and directing menstrual flow. During the development of these items there was also an increase in permanent body modifications in the form of tattooing and tooth filing as markers indicating life rites and initiation into adulthood.7

5.06 Alifuru warrior in full regalia, 1937

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CHAPTER FIVE

Personal embodied experiences such as the need for physical protection, life-cycle markings and individual or clan distinction resulted in the development of an Ambonese dress system and decoration which ultimately became a nucleus around which several specific dress systems developed. This dress system authenticated not only individual physiological needs but also personal and cultural values. Initially the margin of separation between embodiment, inspiration and creation was minimal as the medium was used for protection. Dress outcome therefore was intimately related to physical needs. With the introduction of symbolic markings of personal prowess, rationalization of protection became inclusive of individual or clan identity. Pre-European autochthonous Ambonese dress practice was associated with the body’s surface and comfort. It was not a social system as it was monadic: it related purely to the body itself. This changed with the introduction of personal and clan identity markings on the hipwraps indicating headhunting achievements. Dress became dyadic, as now it existed in relation to others in its mutual transaction of spiritual belief in power and longevity. Adding markings on body coverings idealized approximations of a long and fruitful life marked by physical strength and power, an ideal in itself.

Headhunting and its relationship to autochthonous dress Autochthonous dress is a literal and defi nitive example that shows how Ambonese social systems were built up from the tasks of one’s own body through the body of others; the Ambonese took another body (part) through the hunting of a human head and then demonstrated this experience by painting a circle on their hipwrap.8 Ultimately the relationship between headhunting and longevity is the right to kill and subsequently assume power over one’s own future: the more you kill the longer you will live. Headhunting for the Ambonese successfully merged the right to kill with the assertion to life and fertility. At issue was the capability of the male to claim life for life itself: in essence the Ambonese male appropriated birth. 5.7

13 4

Alifuru chiefs with their trophies, Ceram, 1890

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

5.8

5.9

5.8 5.9

Alifuru hunters dressed in tightly wrapped cidako, West Ceram, 1937 Alifuru hunter, West Ceram, 1937

This not only assured a constant state of siege but also placed the successful hunter in an elevated position of power and prowess. The Ambonese did not consider fertility and mortality mutually exclusive because in order to gain strength and power one had to hunt for animals and cultivate and harvest food. Through the act of headhunting, a man not only gained the strength and spiritual power of the hunted person: buildings or boats also became more powerful when during the building process a head was hunted and buried underneath the central beam or placed near the boat’s bow.9 The spirit of the victim (human or animal) was always asked for forgiveness, since hunting was not an act of war but considered an essential need. Occasionally a head was hunted and offered to the clan of a prospective bride as a sign of physical prowess and to reinforce the union of the couple and that of their respective clans. Sacrificial headhunting rituals strengthened community power, and the skulls were hung in the baileo (communal clan house).10 Affi rmation of permanence of life through the intransigence of death was indicated by specific circular marks on the hipwrap of the successful hunter. The act of decoration and the significance of the circle became recursive since this ornamentation defi ned physical strength and the fact that the hunter had demonstrated power over life and death. This achievement ultimately determined the position of the clan and local community. To gain stature within ethnic Ambonese society was to prove headhunting strength.11 Autochthonous Ambonese dress is considered within the communicative dress frame because it conveys identity through the practice of displaying its decorative elements as well as indicating power. Both tasks positioned the wearer and when more heads were hunted, more decoration was added; thus autochthonous dress was continuously in the process of creating itself and its crucial image, and it became defi nitively Ambonese.12 It was for this reason that ultimately the autochthonous dress system was considered Adat dress. Adat was the dimension of the social system that had its origin in the indigenous foundations of Ambonese society.

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CHAPTER FIVE

Thus, by extension, Adat dress referred to the time when the ancestors founded customs, mores, rules and regulations at the dawn of history. This resulted in a kind of celestial sphere where Adat dress was the centrally located force radiating subsequent dress development. However, what was considered Adat dress was in fact the dress system of people from the central and western mountainous highlands of Seram, rather than the dress of the population living in the coastal areas of the central Moluccan islands. It was no coincidence that dress practice of these inland regions became the catalyst for the development of subsequent clothing systems because the Ambonese considered West Seram and in particular Mount Nunusaku the birthplace of traditional Ambonese culture, and the local Alifuru the keepers of Ambonese tradition.13 In the latter years of the nineteenth century, during a time of heightened sensitivity towards their own ethnicity, the Ambonese started to gradually recognize and adopt the autochthonous dress system as their Adat dress.

Autochthonous men’s wear Cidako Ordinary dress for Ambonese men initially consisted of a cidako (the strip of bark Wallace (1869) referred to) and a red headwrap. A cidako was part of the body, an extension of its perimeter. It was worn until it fell apart and was then replaced,14 in the same manner as skin cells fall off and are regularly replaced. At some point during the nineteenth century the cidako ceased to be an extension of the body’s surface and adopted the function of an accessory, dividing the space between the body and the outside world. That moment in Ambonese dress history came when the cidako was removed and reused, rather than being immediately discarded. Salvaging the item and its consequent reuse marked the time this bodily extension moved across the threshold from appendage, a situated physical projection, to addition, a disciplinary instrument.

136

5.10

5.11 5.10 Alifuru hunters, West Ceram, 1937 5.11 Alifuru man carrying a Salawaku shield, West Ceram, 1937

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

5.13

5.12

5.12 Salawaku shield, Ceram, prior 1963 5.13 Paperbark Cidako Babungga, 1926 5.14 Bark cloth making

5.14

Meaning was initially placed on the (extended) body surface; later, with the advent of recycle-ability, meaning was dispersed across multiple surfaces. Personal or clan status was signified through decoration applied directly to the body through tattooing and through decorative elements such as headdress and items of jewellery, as well markings placed on the cidako. Colonial intervention advanced western concepts of nakedness. These notions were strengthened through Christian religious doctrine; as a result rigorous ascetic disciplinary measures of self-control permeated subsequent development of ethnic Ambonese dress. Clothing systems integrated traditional Adat concepts and elements of liberal Ambonese dress with western elements of dress design, as well as facets from other Asian and Middle Eastern cultures, resulting in a unique hybrid of Ambonese identities. What became central to the communication of identity via ensuing dress styles were various levels of control of desire. Aspirations of association with a particular class or refi nement of a specific cultural identity produced corresponding regimes of body care and control. The cidako was often made of the bark of the lawane or the pandanus tree. This bark was stripped from the tree and the outer bark was split from the inner bark. The inner bark was fermented and bleached in water mixed with herbs and spices and then beaten with a stone or wooden mallet until softened. Often these stone mallets would be scored with deep ruts producing a malleable and strong material resembling felt.15 There were various models used: some were thin, long belts which were wound around the waist several times; a wider piece of bark cloth was placed between the legs and looped underneath the belt on either side of the body allowing the ends to swing free. Others were made of one piece with the end hanging free at the front of the body. This wide end-piece could be decorated and it became the site to indicate power. The ends featured decorations of yellow, red and blue/black lines and triangles, designs similar to tattoos and those featured on earthenware. The colours were derived from charcoal, red and yellow ochres or blood.16

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When a head was hunted a large circle was drawn on the endpiece with the blood of the victim.17 The circle symbolized the sun, which was considered life giving. When other heads were hunted the circle was fi lled in with other smaller circles.18 It was the fi rst head that marked a man’s transition into adulthood, hence the size and placement of the fi rst circle. Personal prowess and courage were codified on the cidako, simultaneously objectifying it as an item signifying physical power. During the course of the nineteenth century the barkcloth cidako was gradually replaced with bark waistbands draped in fabric strips.19 The reason it was replaced was that the barkcloth cidako became primarily a garment that indicated headhunting status and was displayed during specific rituals only. The uncut hair of adult men was fashioned over half a coconut shell that sat on top of the head. A red kain berang (berang means ‘furious’) headwrap was tied up around the hair and during specific ceremonies it was decorated with grasses, shells, flowers, feathers, and beads. Nieuhof reported in 1682 that Ambonese men were ‘wrapping a cotton cloth around their head, decorated with flowers, and both ends hanging down.’20 The headwrap marked them as full men.21 Large strings of beads were worn crosswise over the torso, rings adorned fingers, and bracelets covered arms and legs.22 Red became objectified as the Adat colour and permeated Ambonese ritual and ceremony.23 The ancestors dictated the wearing of the colour red 24 it symbolized simultaneously the power of life and the power over life. At times a piece of red fabric (kain kasumba) was hung over the front of the cidako.25 The practice of wearing red found its origin in the primary association of hunted blood. This blood was either from headhunting or the blood of a female, after their fi rst sexual encounter. The colour red was connected with male power as it indicated the shedding of fresh blood and was celebrated and memorialized through red garments. Periodic shedding of menstrual blood or blood that was shed during birth had to be hidden from society, with women withdrawing into specially built structures away from the community.

138

5.15 Cidako babungga designs, West Ceram, 1925

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

5.16

5.17

5.18

B

5.16 Menstruation hut, 1900 5.17 Various cidako motifs, Ceram, n/d 5.18 Cidako babungga design, West Ceram, 1925

Sachse places these menstruation huts next to a family dwelling. He describes these as: ‘small miserable and shoddy huts, which would make a stay in these places far from comfortable’ (Sachse, 1907:70).

Menstruation huts were usually placed at the outskirts of the village in the unclean area where rubbish was placed and people relieved themselves. B This hut had an elevated floor and a bamboo cover. Women who stayed there during their menstruation did not engage in heavy work. Once one of these huts became unusable no agriculture was allowed there for several years.26 It is ironic that blood spilled during a kill was celebrated as life giving and pure, while blood spilled during birthing, the very praxis of life-giving, was condemned as waste, to be hidden from view and considered so toxic that it contaminated the very area where it was shed for many years. Thus the Ambonese view that the colour red symbolized nourishment, the power of life, is incorrect: for men, it indicated power over life. Cidako markings were based on the association of the clan of the headhunter. According to Moluccan legend, three brothers who lived under a waringin tree on Mount Nunusaku survived a flood. After the flood they departed according to the directions indicated by the branches of the tree. The brothers were the founding ancestors of all peoples of Seram. The Ulisiwa descended from the oldest brother, the Ulilima from the middle brother and the Uliassa from the youngest one. Legend has it the Uliassa settled on the islands of Ambon, Haruku, Saparua and Nusalaut. The Ulilima and Ulisiwa stayed on Seram; later they were called Patalima (League of Five) and Patasiwa (League of Nine). Each village belonged to either the Patalima or the Patasiwa. Both groups were mutually opposed and territorial and political opposition constituted part of a comprehensive system of sociocosmic dualism. By and large the villages on the island of Ambon belonging to the Patasiwa group sought allegiance with the Portuguese and converted to Christianity. Those villages in the Patalima group were inclined to embrace Islam.27 The Patasiwa group was divided into two clans: the Patasiwa Putih (white Patasiwa, un-tattooed people) and the Patasiwa Hitam (black Patasiwa, tattooed people). Membership of the Patasiwa Hitam group was marked by secret initiation rites based on headhunting rituals that included tattooing.28

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The Patasiwa group was associated with patriarchal symbols such as the sun and the frigate bird; the Patalima group was associated with matriarchal symbols such as the moon and the mythical Hainuele (the one who is killed but returned to life). All designs were used as tattoos as well as markings on cidako, baileo (communal houses), utensils and shields. Stylized spiral forms characterized life cycles. The sun symbolized power and assertiveness through fertility and destruction, and the frigate bird represented aggression and rapaciousness as demonstrated by its fast attack on its prey. Variations of four frigate birds ascending towards or descending from the sun were oiale (circular) motifs.29 The use of abstract rhythmic designs showed the mentality of the wearer/decorator or, if the design was painted on the communal house, the mentality and attitude of the clan. When the designs were interwoven, they ‘rested’ (laliki inai, mother of the morning); when the designs were open or unfolding they ‘moved’ (laliki siana, awakening).30

5.20

5.19

5.19 Various circular Oiale cidako motifs, Ceram, n/d 5.20 Cidako babungga, Ceram, 1925

14 0

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

Autochthonous women’s wear Harene Women used the harene, a smaller version of cidako, and adorned themselves in a similar manner to the men. Men and women started wearing a harene at the onset of puberty and it was used until it disintegrated before it was replaced.31 Although boys attended a traditional group puberty initiation ceremony where they were segregated for several days from their community and were rebirthed as men, it was the start of the menstrual cycle that heralded the symbolic rebirth of the girl.32 From puberty onwards hair was worn long and girls maintained the caladium leaf as a hair wrap. Women’s harene were essentially the same for all ages, uncoloured, and unadorned.

Hipwraps

5.21 5.22

Hipwraps made from bark cloth were also worn. The wraps marked life as adults as both men and women used the same garment from the onset of puberty.33 Women placed them over the top of the harene, and men usually replaced their cidako with a hipwrap. These were simple pieces of barkcloth tied around the waist and extending to the thigh. They were kept in place by a belt twisted from coconut husk fibres, or a thin strip of rattan. It is unclear when these bark hipwraps were introduced; however they lasted well into the early twentieth century.34 Autochthonous Ambonese dress was maintained throughout foreign incursion and its regular use was observed until the early twentieth century alongside other dress systems.35 Its construction and symbolic attributes found an echo in further Ambonese dress practice that became tied up with Ambonese trade history and subsequent colonial experience. Clothing and personal adornment became a principal target of successive colonial governments as well as Islamicization and Christianization efforts. 36 Subsequently, autochthonous dressform became the avatar of Ambonese Adat.

5.21 Harene girdle for an unmarried woman, n/d 5.22 Alifuru girl, West Ceram, 1910

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Early Ambonese dress elements became a visible manifestation of abstract concepts of traditional Adat principles, representative of the naissance of Ambonese culture. Throughout colonial times the status of autochthonous dress changed from dress associated with backward heathen savages to a medium for expressing the core of Amboneseness that could be entertained without losing one’s European or Eurasian status. During the latter half of the nineteenth century modernist liberal thinking gradually permeated Ambonese attitudes to themselves and their own ethnicity. This cultural awareness resulted in the desire to visually strengthen lost forms of culture, values and principles; consequently Adat was made visible through objectifying autochthonous dress and adopting it as Adat dress. The Ambonese started to display adherence to Adat and simultaneously maintain colonial sociopolitical status. Autochthonous dress became the object that prescribed Adat principles and through which core Ambonese values and beliefs were communicated. It became a form of self-realization of Amboneseness in its expression as it imposed Adat directly on the body. However through the course of history additional dress objects were added to this repertoire, culminating in a dress system that turned into a conceptual arrangement that attempted to represent the whole of traditional Ambonese culture. The essential quality of Adat dress (like Adat itself) is that this system is continuous in recreating itself.C By the 1930s it was rare to encounter someone who was dressed in autochthonous dress outside Adat ceremonies, as people were ‘ashamed to show themselves in this state.’37 With the implementation and adaptation of autochthonous dress into Ambonese ceremonial dress during the early twentieth century, autochthonous dress became a system of identity expression. Elevated to ceremonial tenue, and viewed through dance and performance ritualising the fusion of Adat principles with a celebration of ancestor ethnicity, autochthonous dress remains an idealization recognized and enhanced through a shared narrative.

142

5.23

C

Among the Moluccan community residing in the Netherlands, what was initially considered Adat dress (autochthonous dress) has expanded to now include all dress systems considered ethnic Ambonese.

5.24 5.23 Raja of Ahiolo with his two wives and stepdaughter, Ceram, 1904 5.24 Married Alifuru women, wearong Harene girdles, Ceram, n/d

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

Underwear

5.25

5.26

Although the term ‘underwear’ refers to garments usually hidden under regular clothing (outerwear), items of Ambonese underwear became powerful communicative tools in the hands of women. These garments were simultaneously defi ned by colonial power and mediated by Ambonese culture. The items of dress were used to practise western regimes of body control on Ambonese bodies. Through the very act of covering certain parts of the body, an essentially western (ascetic) understanding of sexuality was inferred. Wearing Ambonese underwear the body realized itself; Ambonesestyled corselets did not restrain and manipulate the body like western corsets did. By contrast it enabled the body to communicate sexuality rather than constrain it. Western undergarments directly inspired the shapes of Ambonese underwear and they simultaneously emphasized western body ideals of hips, waist, and breasts, as well as the Christian Ambonese body ideal of the back. Compared with autochthonous dress items Ambonese underwear was not used to protect and cover the body, but to highlight and attract interest to certain parts of the body. Although Ambonese under garments (see below) did not restrict the female body as much as the western corset, the intent was identical. Ambonese underwear created a paradox as simultaneously its vulnerability was in colonially perceived sexual availability (the imposition of colonial male fantasies on female Ambonese bodies), and its strength was in personal sexual control within an Ambonese context (the power to direct one’s sexuality and to select one’s partners). This resulted in Ambonese underwear producing a strong sense of self-realization through its expressiveness. This was shown in the confident display and manipulation of undergarments through sheer kebaya fabrics. Considering the strong western influence on the clothing of the Ambonese, it comes as no surprise to see this influence extended to undergarments as well. Intimate apparel and traditional eastern garments present something of a contradiction in terms.

5.25 Wife of Raja Honitetoe, West Ceram, 1904 5.26 Alifuru, West Ceram, 1910

14 3

CHAPTER FIVE

There appears to be no research on underwear within the context of traditional Indonesian form of dress. However, from research on outerwear, information on underwear can be constructed. As the Indonesians in general do not have a history of wearing western-style underwear, it is all the more interesting to note the strong tradition of underwear among the Christian Ambonese, especially as it is evident that this underwear became a defi nitive marker of sexuality imbued with western symbolisms laced onto an Ambonese body. When the Portuguese advanced into the Moluccas and imported their religious beliefs, they also imported their moralistic views of the ‘naked’ body. Christian morality was based on the writings of St Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), D who equated sex and nakedness with sin against God.38 For it was in the Scriptures where Christians learned that Adam and Eve realized they were naked after they ate forbidden fruit. They identified nakedness with the work of the devil and thus equated nakedness with original sin. After all, it was written in the Book of Genesis: ‘The eyes of Adam and Eve opened up and they both realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.’ Not only did Adam and Eve realize they were sinners, but that sinners needed covering up. Even God Himself ‘… made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them. And the Lord God said: “The man has now become like one of us, knowing good from evil.”39 Thus it was God who affi rmed the links between being good and covered, and evil and nakedness. Portuguese priests, and later Dutch ministers, hastily clothed the savages and made sure that flesh, especially flesh as black as the devil’s, was hidden. Nakedness of the Ambonese was considered from a western perspective rather than seen from an Ambonese point of view, where being naked had an entirely different meaning. When the Ambonese went into a colonial environment dominated with western conventions, they dressed and behaved according to colonial principles of modesty and decorum. Once inside the privacy of their own ethnic milieu, away from western gaze, they upheld their own dress values.

14 4

D

Pope Leo XIII named St Thomas Aquinas official theologian of the Catholic Church in 1879 (Synnott 1993:45).

5.27 Raja Honitetoe, West Ceram, 1904

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

5.28

5.29 5.28 Alifuru women, West Ceram, 1937 5.29 Alifuru men with tightly drawn waists, 1904

Riedel observed that Ambonese women ‘never uncovered their torso in front of strangers, but in their living quarters they remain all totally naked without any sense of shyness’. He goes on to write: ‘men and women have a very clean body, the women wash themselves at least twice daily but they are less clean about their clothing.’40 This indicated that women valued a clean body over the wearing of clean clothes. They did not consider their clothing of the utmost importance and looked upon dressing as a western habit, associated with foreigners. However, the very act of covering up the body made those hidden parts more desirable. And in true western fashion, Portuguese priests and later Dutch ministers made sure women covered up from head to toe. At least in the House of the Lord there was no flesh to be seen. Christian missionaries advanced their own ethnocentric ideas and perceptions of what was appropriate behaviour and dress sense. Through acceptance of Christianity the Ambonese acknowledged a colonial patriarchal society where western men exercised formal power. This power included the control of the body in public and private spheres. By describing the way bodies needed to be covered, constrained, constricted, contorted and regulated, the colonizers entered the most private space of all. Christian Ambonese understood that behaviour and dress needed to be brought under the scrutiny of God and the law. It was the women who faced this scrutiny in the most orthodox manner, whereas men faced it much in the same way the colonizers themselves did. While analysing Moluccan traditional underwear it is noteworthy to observe the introduction of western garments, technology and ideals within the most intimate of spaces, only to see this fashion become fossilized over time and these objects become relegated to ‘traditional ethnic dress’. Terminology used to indicate old fashioned, outdated images of garments representing no progress and being behind the times.41 The act of covering the entire body was alien to the Moluccan way of life. The traditional way of dress using a cidako dates back to times before the arrival of traders from other nations.42

14 5

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The cidako was initially worn by men, and then came used by women but only during menstruation. Special women’s models (harene) were used and during this time they inserted tampons made from cotton fibres or fi ne coconut fibres.43 Sometimes they would use small strips of fabric wrapped around fibres; these tampons would then absorb moisture, the fibres would be discarded and the fabric strips washed.44 Eventually, women started to wear a harene during daily chores; they placed the long piece of bark cloth between their legs and draped it off their waistband at the front of the body. There were two different types of waistbands: a thin cord that was worn by virgins and a thicker cord that was worn by women after their fi rst pregnancy.45 Married women used a long panel, which at times reached beyond the knee. Sachse (1907) mentioned that this panel was cut from a leaf of the pandanus tree, he observed that women wore this garment only when they worked the land or in the forest, but ‘nowadays [early twentieth century] the Alifuru women wrap a sarong around their hips to cover the harene.’46 Thus the harene became a private garment, not seen by an outsider, moving from being outerwear to underwear. Men however did not seem to wear their cidako under a hip wrap but it appeared they seemingly changed from cidako into sarong depending on the availability of fabric. According to Sachse (1907): ‘Men tie their cidako so tightly around their waist that usually their stomachs protrude over it. The Alifuru claim that this allows them to run really fast, which is usually the case. However it does not need to be said that through this tight lacing liver and spleen suffer greatly and perhaps this is one of the reasons why the Alifuru usually does not live to great old age.’47 Ambonese men did not view a cidako as underwear; they replaced rather than covered the cidako with an outer layer of clothing, thus for men the cidako never assumed the status of underwear in the same way as it did for women.

5.30 Alifuru, Buru Ceram, 1904

14 6

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

Initially Ambonese women did not visually ascribe to western dress as very few western women settled in the central Moluccan islands. The majority of western women did not come to Ambon until after the First World War. Prior to this time Ambonese women dressed in regular ethnic dress. However this did not stop women from adopting western elements in their body maintenance and discipline and by extension, underwear. This was facilitated by Christian asceticism relating to body control. Ruling colonies meant ruling bodies, perpetual subordination to colonial power, religious doctrine and demands of a patriarchal society sustained this consciousness of subservience. Underwear became isolated within the ritual performance of maintenance of the self. This monadic attribute underscored an attitude of dissociation of the self, as Ambonese dress became instrumental in the success of emulating Western values.

Christian Ambonese underwear

E

5.31 Plaited bamboo strap designs

A corselet is a corset-shaped garment without the shaping bone structure. It is much softer and easier to wear because it does not restrict the body.

Western-inspired underwear entered the space between the body that was Ambonese and society, which was essentially a colonial construct. It marked the boundary between the private and the public, between ethnic tradition and western modernity, between colonial and ethnic contexts, between the naked body and the outer layer of clothes. Western dress invaded that intimate, personal space when the cidako was replaced by shaped white cotton garments resembling corseletsE and pantaloons. Women did not just wrap themselves in western garments, they allowed these garments to come as close to the body as was physically possible. The Ambonese not only allowed Western values to touch and shape them, they also invited Western thought, values and mores to touch and shape them. It was not only the outer body that was conditioned; it was the inner body as well. Mimicking Western attributes resulted in a mirroring of Western identity through items of clothing, lifestyle and attitudes.48 The reason that these dress elements are not considered in a mirroring dress frame is that they were used with different intent: to announce the ethnic Ambonese self through manipulations and display, rather than a desired elevated and at times cross-cultural self.

147

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5.32

The Ambonese corselet When the covering of the body became accepted practice, an under-sarong was used to function as a slip.49 During the latter half of the nineteenth century pantaloons were introduced together with three types of bodices.50 One was a kutang kecil, a white cotton sleeveless camisole shaped with small French pleats and closed with small mother of pearl buttons at the front. It featured crochet or tatted lace around the top and bottom. The thin shoulder straps were fi nished with either tatting or crocheted lace. The kutang besar was singlet styled and similarly shaped and decorated; the neck opening featured lace with a tasselled drawstring that tied around the front. The most commonly used underbodice was the ciolé, a white cotton boat-necked top with 3/4 sleeves. This garment was also shaped with small French pleats at the front, closed with mother of pearl buttons and edged all around with tatting or crochet lace. The drawstring allowed the wearer to adjust the top to size.51 The most striking feature of these tops was the exquisite Madeira embroidery placed at the back of the garment. The backs were carefully worked in eyelet and cutwork embroidery sporting intricate geometric designs, flowers, birds or butterflies. F These eye-catching designs focused the attention on the back of the woman, especially as the ciolé were veiled by lace or diaphanous kebaya like dew veiling a precious flower. The earliest recording of the ciolé dates from 1875 when Van Hoëvell observed: ‘All wear an undershirt, or corset [ciolé] edged with lace of crochet’.52 Although he called it a corset, the garment was actually a corselet as it was not fitted with stays but shaped with pintucks and pleats. The Spanish introduced the corset as an undergarment during the sixteenth century and it was quickly adopted by the fashionable women of the courts in the rest of Europe.53 These corsets stiffened with stays of wood, metal or whalebone gave shape to the female body, which was previously unheard of. Slimness was a much-desired form and the French resorted to dieting to accomplish the ‘Spanish figure.’54

14 8

5.33 F

Cut eyelet embroidery originated in Madeira, a group of volcanic islands off the coast off Morocco under Portuguese administration. It is highly likely that the Portuguese introduced items of clothing embroidered in this fashion to the Moluccans.

5.32 Ciolé 5.33 Kutang

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

The combination of slimming and restricting the body with artificial means by using shaping garments such as the corset relegated loose garments to nightwear. Prior to this development, nightwear or clothes especially designated for resting or sleeping did not exist. As the underwear to support outerwear was so engineered and contoured, the ‘loose’ nightclothes were exactly that: loosely shaped garments. Due to the fact that loose garments were worn in a restive or sleeping state in the privacy of the boudoir, women were advised to be aware of the ‘immorality’ of loose garments and the items became associated with ‘loose’ women.55 Thus physical restriction implied high morality: the more one’s body was restrained, the higher one’s virtues were. Restricted, corseted garments were worn by the upper class, as manual work was impossible to do with whalebone-laced stays. Loose garments or loosely shaped items of clothing became the high-status underwear of the under class. It is precisely this loose kind of underwear the colonist introduced to Ambonese women. Through domination the colonizers prescribed the reigning in of women’s bodies, and through their bodies their spirituality. The body of the Ambonese woman was not to be so tightly constrained that they could not perform their daily chores. They were not to be so tightly laced that they became the gloriously shaped, unattainable women in the West. Their sexuality was to be enhanced, their bodies to be made available at the pull of a string. Riedel observed: ‘When women dance with Europeans, it is customary that the men are kissed by the women and that they sit on [the men’s] knees’. Riedel suggested that it was a custom that was ‘introduced simultaneously with jenever (Dutch gin)’. He went on to describe that ‘the natives normally do not treat one another in public in this manner.’56 It is clear from these references that the introduction of western underwear was in line with western expectations of women’s behaviour. Although these women were modestly covered, under their restrictive clothes was a sexuality dressed to be explored, available to be taken.

Ambonese women were covered in clothes representing the very opposite of western women. From an Ambonese perspective it was significant that the softened and reduced style of underwear did not have the restrictive boning and tight lacing of the items of subjugation of their western counterparts. The subtle shaping expressed a personal freedom corresponding in profound ways with the sexual freedom these women enjoyed within Ambonese society. The sexual subtlety of the under layer simultaneously became the clothing of emancipation, a personal touch beneath the restricted outer layer of rigid tradition based on Christian ritual.57 There was a strong contrast between the Victorian style of reverence and sexual control, and a seemingly free sexual nature of the Ambonese which, according to Riedel, was an ‘Indonesian phenomenon’. It struck him that ‘a free lifestyle by young, unmarried people is easily accepted and young girls often enjoy intercourse with younger and older men and without any offence.’58 Valentijn noted in 1724 that if a woman fell pregnant by another man while engaged, it did not bother the prospective husband. In fact ‘he actually applauds it and he counts himself lucky.’59 Ambonese women used their undergarments as an intrinsic part of displaying their sexual identity. The back of the kutang and the ciolé was decorated more heavily than the front of the undergarments because ultimately it was the back that was viewed by the young nungarés (unmarried men). They were not allowed to directly look young jojaros (unmarried women) in the eye. 60 It was the back of a woman which was scrutinized; the back − and by extension the back of the garment − asserted sexual availability. Women were free to display their sexuality, availability and femininity on their backs. The motifs used invariably pointed from the centre down, towards the waist. The fanning out of shaping French pleats also led the eye from the centre towards the small of the back. It was her back that became an integral characteristic of female Ambonese identity. Straightness of character was exemplified by straightness of the back. A straight back internalized Ambonese values as it encouraged a restrained physical posture so sought after by Ambonese people.

14 9

CHAPTER FIVE

5.34

For parents to select a daughter to become Nona Cenela, or perhaps a Nona Rok, restrained bodily movements and a straight back were the ultimate defi ning criteria. 61 Dress items that ultimately became objectified within Ambonese dress tradition underscored these highly desirable embodied characteristics. The decorative designs of the backs of ciolé and kutang were testimony to the dialogue that occurred between western and ethnic Ambonese elements of the private and the intimate. They expressed interaction of the personal with the public, heralded the awakening of a sexual desire and became a display of sexual availability. As the conduit between outerwear and the body, they became the ultimate pieces of seduction. Thus, although these pieces allowed freedom of sexual expression for the Ambonese woman, the garments also declared a dual role of sexual availability towards the colonialists. The subversive change of the garment was dependent on the viewer, the voyeur. The kutang and ciolé became brokers in the neverending conquest of power. The decorative backs of the corselets were in direct contrast to the plain treatment accorded the front of these items. The imagery created by these startling differences developed a sexual tension. A centre closure separated the breasts. The breasts were gently caressed by small French pleats, which provided some measure of support. The pleats started at the waist and pointed directly towards the nipples, which were echoed by small ball shaped buttons, running across the length of the garment. A tasselled drawstring around the neck opening allowed the wearer to blouse the garment, implying a voluptuous figure. The tightness or looseness of the drawstring bore witness to sexual availability.62 The treatment of the fabric, the buttons and the pleats, the Madeira embroidery, the lace attachments and tasselled drawstring combined lust with luxury. In a collision of colonial Christian sexual oppression with Ambonese sexual freedom, a symbol of sexual contest had found its place on the bodies of Ambonese women. In its paired-down simplicity, the implied had become the celebrated. Agnes Matitaputty stated it succinctly when she suggested: ‘There is no need to decorate the front of the ciolé as the front of our bodies is beautiful enough. Our breasts don’t need further enhancement.’63

150

5.35

5.34 Pantaloons 5.35 Embroidery detais

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

The breasts might not need enhancement, however they were accentuated by the sheerness of the kebaya that was worn over the ciolé. The lace fabric of the kebaya allowed glimpses of what was underneath, placing the private in the public domain. This seductive strategy not only revealed the inner layers of dress, it also revealed the inner layers of Ambonese society which under colonial rule enjoyed a dual ethnicity, Ambonese as well as Dutch. Whatever item was revealed seduced the viewer into the promise of what was concealed. Although the intimate garment was made visible it in no way lost its intimacy; it suggested beauty and referred to the exotic. The internal structure of dress became the external structure of the body. The ciolé epitomized the relationship between visible and invisible Amboneseness. 64 The women made the undergarments themselves, and often the fi ne white cotton fabrics, silk threads and tatted lace were procured from Chinese merchants. 65 The decoration featured on the back of the ciolé was designed and produced by a jahit (seamstress). These women specialized in embroidery. Underwear made in the privacy of women’s quarters became the most elaborate affair. 66 Hidden from direct view it became more decorated than outerwear. However, when the kebaya that covered the ciolé became diaphanous, the garment initially used to cover the bare body became bare itself.

.... hidden from direct view, underwear became more decorated than outerwear.... 5.36 Woman embroidering cloth, Batoe Merah Ambon, 1910

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Jupon and pantaloons When women adopted the ciolé, a jupon or pantaloons quickly replaced the cidako and harene. A jupon was initially a white cotton under-sarong, but from the late nineteenth century it featured a drawstring in the waist, making it a straight tube-like skirt. Often the bottom part of the jupon skimming the ankles featured heavy elaborate Madeira embroidery, matching the decoration on the ciolé.67 Pantaloons were also used, especially under the pleated rok. The first types of pantaloons were drawers,G made of white cotton. Later the centre seam was closed transforming the drawers into pantaloons. A drawstring was pulled tight at the waist. The trouser legs skimmed just below the knees and were, just like the hem of the jupon, fi nished with Madeira embroidery. 68 It is unclear when the jupon or pantaloons entered Ambonese dress systems. I propose that these items were more generally used from the beginning of the twentieth century when they were more available in the outer regions of the Indonesian Archipelago. Pulling the drawstrings of the jupon or pantaloons made the hips billow out and nipped in the waist. As there was only soft shaping with the use of pintucks, the hourglass silhouette was achieved by the tight binding of the tali kain, H often fi nished with the same lace that graced the under garments. Tight lacing of the waist emphasized its narrowness and enhanced hips and bosom; it was a phenomenon also applied by Alifuru men (see elsewhere) and observed by Riedel (1875). The sharp pointed ends of this kain provided a visual link between it, the jupon and ciolé, because the tali kain was worn in such a manner that the ends dropped deep below the hem of the kebaya. The ends of the tali kain, together with the stockings, were the only white items visible in the all-black Church outfit of the Nona Cenela. Underwear of Christian Ambonese women became the catalyst to providing a vocabulary of design for other clothing items. As it was more decorated and shaped than outerwear, it was the underwear that dictated the materials and methods of wearing outerwear. The more excessively decorated underwear became, the more importance was assigned to these garments.

152

In fact the ciolé became so significant that it overtook the dominance of the kebaya. The kebaya was an ethnic element of dress, unchanged in its shape or size. The conservation of the shape allowed only a change of materials used. Kebaya materials changed to lace, allowing a limited vision of the ciolé. The opportunity to play ‘hide-and-seek’ could be manipulated by the wearer, depending on the fabric chosen. For special occasions the kebaya was made of batiste, a crisp translucent cotton fabric that allowed a view of the ciolé. Harem-like wrapping of underwear in a mist of voile lent a mystique to a western garment, an appropriated ideal of beauty; subservience and sexuality was applied to an oriental body. Deconstruction of oriental and occidental dress components and rendering them as a lucid entity provides insight into identity construction of the wearer. Although colonized, Ambonese women visually appeared firmly in control of their own sexuality. The ceremony of dressing started with the ritual of slipping on a colonized Ambonese skin, by buttoning up the ciolé or kutang. The pulling of the drawstring and the tying of its bow harnessed the body into its armour. The adjustment of the design features at the back of the garment marked the boundary between personal (colonized) and private (Ambonese). This ritual repeated itself when the women slipped into the pantaloons. Often when these items were worn, the woman dressed for a special occasion and the act of dressing became a shared spectacle. Sisters, aunties and mother became enmeshed in this play and all became willing actors in the scene. Sisters dressed each other, aunties dispensed precious advise between gossip and mother hovered about to pull the folds and pleats of the kain or rok in just the right place. The play climaxed in the styling of the hair and the application of make-up and jewellery so that each woman was ready to display their fi nery and their bodies to society. Initially these items may not have been considered traditional Ambonese dress as they were all introduced through trade links and endorsed by colonial power. However Ambonese women adopted and moulded themselves into the undergarments initially foreign to them.

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

They took ownership of these trade novelties and in a most daring manner exercised creative control as they transformed these items to articulate their cultural values. They appear to be the only ethnic Indonesian society to do so and have since claimed these items to be quintessential Ambonese. I

Ambonese bridalwear

5.37 Bridal couple, Ambon, 1935

G

Drawers were made of two separate tubular pieces of cloth each covering one leg; they were joined to a deep waistband with ribbons.

H

Long, narrow kain tied around the waist like a belt to hold kain or sarong in place.

I

The ciolé and kutang, kain pikul and cenela are the items commonly named and associated with traditional Ambonese dress culture by Moluccans in exile.

Like autochthonous dress, Ambonese bridalwear was highly communicative. Autochthonous dress was a dress style demonstrative of Adat culture, simultaneously uncultured and representative of traditional values and the origin of ancient Ambonese cultural beliefs. In contrast, Christian Ambonese bridalwear expressed values of an Ambonese culture that was shaped by European colonialism, Christianization efforts and the continuous influences of various trading cultures. During Dutch colonial times Ambonese wedding dress was considered the epitome of fashion in a modern, highly cultured Ambonese society, because it represented the idealization of a constructed Ambonese culture based on Adat values but perceived from a Christian Ambonese perspective. 69 Through ceremonial exchange the Ambonese wedding provided for simultaneous abandonment of the past and birthing of the future. The wedding ceremony was an expression of a culture of which it was part. The ceremony articulated all aspects of modern Ambonese culture and represented these aspects through the acts and outward appearances of the bridal couple. Although an Ambonese wedding was informed by Adat principles, it was a display of contemporary cultural vignettes that combined minutely observed ritual Adat with civil and religious ceremonies. The result was a unique cultural, religious, historical, and colonial pastiche that found its expression in the wedding outfits worn by the bride and groom. A wedding dress is pre-eminently dyadic, as it can only exist in mutual constitution with a groom’s outfit. Ambonese bridal dress was contingent on its own ethnicity through its continuous reconstruction and association.

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Bridal dress was an idealized representation of Christian Ambonese culture, unlike the groom’s suit, which was static and predictable by virtue of its appropriation of European identity. Ambonese bridal dress became the conduit through which ethnic culture connected with colonial culture. Both outfits simultaneously affi rmed cultural independence and dependence making binary opposites most prevalent.

Ambonese wedding ceremonies ‘Marriage Adat occupies the central place in the Adat system of Ambonese society.’70 In central Moluccan society marriage was considered not only a union between two people and their families, it was also a union between clans.71 Initially marriages were arranged through representatives of these clans.J Ambonese weddings are per defi nition enormous affairs and most of the rituals are based on the elaborate traditional wedding custom practised in the central Moluccas.72 Several different forms of engagement and marriage procedure were the norm: Kawin Lari (marriage by elopement), Kawin Minta (marriage by proposal), Kawin Masuk (marriage when the groom entered the bride’s household).73

Kawin Lari Within Ambonese society the most common form of marriage was Kawin Lari, marriage by elopment; this was the most expedient and cheaper option and avoided protracted negotiation and ceremony. Elopement (or ‘stealing’ the bride) also offered the couple the freedom to select their partners and identify the timing of the wedding. This custom was steeped in Adat and seems to have been in operation long before colonialization took place.74 Riedel argued that this custom existed because small clans would feel vulnerable in a hostile and headhunting environment. To ensure continuity of the clan they needed to enlarge their groups and so kidnapped women from neighbouring villages.75 It appears that neither the introduction of Islam nor Christianity was able to oust this practice.76

15 4

J

Arranged unions in Christian families are now almost non-existent, although some arranged marriages still occur within Islamic circles.

5.38 Bridal couple, Ambon, 1935

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

5.39

5.40 5.39 Bridal couple, Ambon, 1900 5.40 Bridal couple, Ambon, 1890

However it would be safe to say that the ritual associated with Kawin Lari over time has accommodated religious doctrine.77 For instance, the concepts of Kawin Lari and the use of Harta Kawin (bridewealth) have since become justified through biblical references:78 ‘Abraham sent his servant to find his son Isaac a wife. The servant brought along gifts of jewellery, camels and textiles and found Isaac a bride [Rebekah]. Rebekah’s parents insisted that the servant stay seven days but the servant insisted he leave immediately. Rebekah and her servants mounted their camels laden with gifts and she became Isaac’s bride’.79 There were two reasons why a couple might decide to elope. First, one or either family or clan opposed the union and public rejection was too humiliating to contemplate; by eloping the couple forced their parents to accept the union. Secondly, and this was the most widespread reason, the dowry was unattainable and the wedding feast too expensive, making elopement the best economic option. For this reason the bride’s family often encouraged this type of marriage. 80 If the dowry was quite substantial and the bride did not want to burden and impoverish her parents any further by insisting on a large formal wedding, the elopement was done in consultation between the bride and her family. 81 Strict Adat rules regulated Kawin Lari procedures. The young man and his family ‘kidnapped’ the girl and would leave a letter of explanation and items of bridewealth behind to placate her parents. The girl was taken to a secret location and cared for by the groom’s family. She was not allowed to live at the young man’s home until such time as the wedding was organized. During this time she was not to have any contact with her fiancé. As soon as she arrived at the secret location her feet were washed by one of the female relatives of the groom. This act symbolized the ritual cleansing of all her family ties and also indicated acceptance by the groom’s family. According to Adat rules the young man and members of his family needed to visit the girl’s parents within seven days to start negotiating the wedding arrangements and bridewealth.

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If the parents did not accept the union they sent the items of bridewealth he initially left behind back as soon as possible, and they then had to try and fi nd their daughter within the seven-day limit. If she was found the young man needed to request marriage formally (Kawin Minta) or another elopement had to be staged. 82 If she was not located by her kin within the required time, the elopement was considered ‘successful’ and the couple got married, because the girl had already become part of the young man’s clan through elopement, the transfer of bridewealth and the ritual feel cleansing. Upon marriage the bride was embraced by the groom’s clan and from that moment the husband’s kin claimed all rights, including eventual children. 83 However sometime after the wedding the couple had to go back to the girl’s parents to beg forgiveness. If the parents still refused to acknowledge the marriage, the couple repeated the request on the last day of the year; as per Christian convention all sins committed that year had to be forgiven and forgotten. 84 Kawin Lari was certainly less prestigious and less honourable than Kawin Minta (marriage by proposal), but both forms were equally acceptable within Ambonese society. 85

Kawin Minta The most desirable form of marriage was by proposal: Kawin Minta.86 This was a custom usually reserved for upper-class families and was strictly ritualized. The young man’s parents and some respected elders of his family met with the parents of the bride and formally requested the hand of their daughter. For the occasion both parties dressed in their fi nest Adat clothing. Men wore regular dress of kain (hipwrap) with the addition of a kain selele (smaller wrap tied around the waist). In addition they tied a red cloth around their head, and around the shoulders they draped another red scarf. As mentioned previously, the colour red was an indication of courage. In earlier times the headwrap and scarf was doused in the blood of a freshly headhunted victim. 87

15 6

Those with European status wore a (hired) western suit and tie, as well as black leather shoes. The women dressed in their fi nest kain selele and white lace kebaya and went barefoot signifying submission. 88 When the groom’s party arrived at the bride’s home the groom’s spokesperson knocked three times on the door and requested entry. After some debate within the family the father of the bride invited the party inside and offered refreshments. The father of the bride then demanded to know why they were there and a formal request for the hand in marriage ensued. The girl was consulted in private and upon acceptance she entered the room. Bridewealth was discussed, and the father of the bride then formally requested for the groom to enter the girl’s household. This was usually accepted because this act indicated the serious intent of the couple. The groom stayed with the bride’s clan until the wedding vows were formalized. 89 The young man helped out with daily chores and worked the land of her parents. He might even be expected to pay her family a contribution out of the profit of his clan’s harvest. During this time he was not allowed to share a meal in company with his fiancée or her parents. He was not allowed to address his fiancée in the presence of her parents, and he was expected to ask for permission every time he intended to leave the family compound. This situation lasted until his family, had amassed the bridewealth and was ready for its transfer. In the mean time, any offspring resulting from this union belonged to the girl’s family and could not be claimed by the groom or his kin until the couple officially married.90

Kawin Masuk This form of marriage was different than the previous two types, because in this case the bride did not enter the groom’s clan but the groom entered the bride’s clan permanently. Kawin Masuk literally means ‘marriage to enter’ (into the wife’s clan). The reason for this might be that in the girl’s family there were no male descendants, which would put family lineage and its landholdings in jeopardy.

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

It could also be that the groom’s clan did not have enough resources to raise the bridewealth, or the groom’s clan found the choice of bride completely unacceptable.91 The groom was accepted as a full member of the bride’s family and rescinded all his rights in matters of inheritance and other prerogatives of his own clan. More importantly, their children bore the wife’s surname and enjoyed full rights as her family members; the husband was also able to adopt her surname. In this arrangement there was no exchange of bridewealth or dowry. In the unlikely event that bridewealth was paid at a later date, the wife entered the husband’s clan and all rights and children were transferred to his family.92

Harta Kawin Harta Kawin, or bridewealth, is distinctly different from a dowry. Bridewealth is handed over by the groom’s clan to the bride’s clan as part of marriage settlement, whereas a dowry comprises of gifts of the bride’s clan to the bride. For the Ambonese Harta Kawin had a compensatory function to make up for the transfer of a daughter, loss of her potential earnings and costs incurred in raising her. It also legitimized the union and secured eventual offspring within the husband’s family, thus insuring its continuity. Furthermore, it indicated social and economic status. The method of delivery, the ritual objects, the individuals involved and the process itself conformed to strict local Adat rule93. In the central Moluccan islands Harta Kawin was ‘the most crucial part of marriage Adat, consequently it constituted the focus of Adat for the [Ambonese]. Harta Kawin was considered truly indigenous and remains an absolute requirement in marriage.’94 In earlier times, when a couple decided to marry the young man proved his manhood by headhunting. He presented a head to the bride’s family and their acceptance symbolized approval of the union and recognition of his ability to care for their daughter. With the arrival of Islam, Christianity and colonial rule the practice of headhunting was outlawed and the offering of gifts became a substitute for a head.95

Several families in one clan contributed to Harta Kawin if the groom’s family alone were unable to raise all of the goods. The items selected and processes used varied from village to village, but certain objects adopted ritual status and appeared common throughout the central Moluccas. The agreed bridewealth had to be paid to ensure health, welfare and fertility. Numerous stories abound about bad luck due to outstanding bridewealth, yet with the completion of payments, health and welfare were restored.96 Harta Kawin objects included many textile items. It is a generally held view in Indonesia that objects are animated and that the ‘character’ of the object corresponds with the elements and principles of its design.97 When there is a symbolic association between these characteristics and a phenomenon in another context, the object itself becomes directly related to that phenomenon.98 In the central Moluccas specific objects were offered in exchange and certain pieces were presented to a particular member of the bride’s kin.99 Those objects exchanged as part of bridewealth adopted the physical characteristics of the bride, making these pieces complex, fluid entities bestowed with embodied power. Physicality was extended from the female body to textile skins that seemed to absorb women’s birthing potential. Unifying nature with culture and trade ultimately placed this ability at the axis of the clan’s future and the control of one’s body; this excluded the male to beyond its periphery. He was at the primary level of exchange but found himself excluded from the capacity to create literally from within his body. Blood spilled during the fi rst sexual encounter and headhunting was external blood, not his own. The ability of women to bleed and lactate, to give life from her body, was ultimately at the centre of marriage, because her ability to procreate gave her the power to create the future. Fear of contingency placed the bride’s capability to reproduce at the heart of the bridewealth, because the exchange items embodied all these attributes. It was for these reasons that specific objects assumed great significance within Moluccan wedding ceremony Adat.

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Those most commonly used included: ~ a gong, as a replacement for the girl’s voice, because this would not be heard around the family home any more. ~ pinahatu, an old Chinese dish, representing the head of the girl. ~ ular mas, a gold, snake-like ornament, representing the girl’s body. ~ pinggan batu, an old small dish indicative of all the food the girl used to eat. ~ Sopi K (sugarpalm wine), offered to the father of the bride, symbolizing the blood of the hunted head which used to be presented to the bride and indicated physical and emotional strength and power of the groom. ~ jenever (Dutch gin) offered to the mother of the bride, symbolizing the blood spilled when the mother gave birth to the baby, as well as her breast milk. ~ kain tempat (cloth of the place), a bolt of plain, white cotton fabric, approximately 36 metres long, either from China or India. This fabric was also called kain tempat tidur (bed cloth). This fabric was a replacement for the linen, which was soiled and stained when the bride was born, and for the fabric, which was torn for swaddling when she was a little girl. This fabric symbolized the suffering, sacrifice and immolation of the mother giving birth and raising the girl. Repayment symbolized its recognition and emphasized the fact that the groom’s clan now took full responsibility for the girl. ~ kain susu (milk cloth), a small white piece of material that symbolized the fabric stained when the mother nursed the baby. This cloth indicated the unique bond between mother and child. ~ kain panama (naming cloth), approximately 20 meters of white cotton cloth presented as replacement for the removal of the bride’s name from the family. ~ kain patola (patola cloth), a woven fabric originating from Gujarat, India. This fabric was presented to the father of the bride. The patola L was decorated with a snakeskin-like diamond pattern symbolizing virility.100 It represented the cidako worn by Ambonese men before European settlement.101

158

~ kain oom (uncle’s cloth), a piece of white cotton material presented to the eldest brother of the mother of the bride. He occupied a significant position in the relationship between siblings, and was very influential in all matters pertaining the children of his younger sisters. In his position he represented the mother’s clan. This gesture was also in recognition of him shaving the fi rst hair of the girl when she turned one year old and monies paid to the parents for this privilege.102 ~ kain serani (godparent’s cloth), white cotton fabric presented to the godparents of the bride, who shared responsibility on equal terms with the parents in the moral and religious upbringing of the girl. ~ kain buka pintu (open door cloth), a white piece of fabric, approximately 20 meters long, used to encourage the opening of the door of the house from which the bride was abducted (Kawin Lari). It symbolized pleas for forgiveness, approval and blessing for the union. ~ kain berkat (cloth of blessing), also called kain negeri (village cloth), a piece of white material, approximately 20 metres long, which was usually given to the kepala (head) of the negeri to compensate the village for the loss of one of their jojaros. This kain was draped inside the baileo (town hall) to indicate the groom’s respect for the village.103

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

Dowry

5.41

5.42

5.41 Patola trade cloth, Gujarat India, n/d 5.42 Kain berkiat wrapping, n/d

K

Sopi, derived from the Dutch word zopie, a colloquial term for alcoholic drinks.

L

Patola were Indian double ikat trade cloths, traded initially by Asian and Buginese traders. Often worn as a kain selendang (shoulder cloth) or turban, they assumed paramount position indicating social and economic wealth of the wearer (Guy, 1998:87). Over time they became imbued with protective and healing powers and were used as a protective barrier and a communication link with deities. The Dutch soon realized the significance of this cloth and monopolized its trade (Maxwell, 1990:215, 353-361).

Dowry was property given to a girl by her family upon her marriage. In the central Moluccas all the bride’s blood relations contributed to the dowry. Unlike Harta Kawin, dowry was tradition bound and not negotiable during marriage arrangements.104 The amount, quality and rarity of the dowry attested to the wealth and status of the family. The items given to the bride varied from village to village, but textiles, jewellery, and household items were always included.105 Dowry was only offered at a formally arranged marriage (Kawin Minta). Often the items given far exceeded the Harta Kawin in value, leading anthropologists to conclude that Harta Kawin was not a price paid to buy a girl but rather a recognition from the groom and his family that the girl was leaving her ancestral home and a measure of respect for the emotional and physical work the family of the bride had invested in her.106 Bridewealth was a symbolic acknowledgement of the bride’s potential to reproduce and ensure the clan’s future, whereas the dowry was offered to realize this potential. In order to fulfill that potential it was important to accommodate the bride as best one could so she could achieve that aim. It was therefore quite acceptable that dowry items sometimes far exceeded the monetary value of bridewealth, as they were gifts from a family to their daughter. Bridewealth items, on the other hand, had significantly more cultural and symbolic value and were therefore minutely prescribed and the exact exchange ritual was strictly adhered to. Dowry objects comprised of the following: ~ kain uti-uti, a special cloth given to the bride by her mother and used to drape over the bride’s hip to ensure fertility. Both Riedel (1886) and Van Hoëvell (1875) stressed the rarity of this cloth in the nineteenth century.107 ~ Lengths of black cotton fabric, preferably black chintz, which local assistant teachers and assistant ministers received from the Dutch government as part payment for their duties. ~ Black kebaya.

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~ Gold and silver jewellery, such as rings and bracelets and hair jewellery consisting of korkupings (hairpins), bunga goyang (ornamental hairpins) and sisir (haircomb). ~ A feather fan, featuring bird of paradise feathers. ~ Household items such as pots and pans. ~ Furniture items. ~ Woven mats. ~ Food and drinks, such as arak (palm wine). ~ Small land holdings with clove, sago or coconut crops. This only occurred if the father of the bride was a substantial landowner.

The wedding ceremony A wedding ceremony usually took place a long time after the couple announced their plans to get married; often children were born before the actual wedding ceremony. As the bride already lived with the groom’s family, it was the female relatives of the groom who helped her into her red and white wedding outfit and assisted with her wedding hairdo. When ready they all prepared to leave for the bride’s home. Dressed in Adat costume of kain and kain selele with black baju or a single kain with black kebaya all female relatives of the groom selected specific bridewealth pieces from the bridal chamber, and place them in dulangs (bowls) on their head. Then they walked barefoot in a single file, carrying the bowls followed by the groom, his juri bitara (Adat spokesperson) and the rest of the groom’s party. Upon arrival at the home of the bride the juri bitara introduced the groom’s party and explained in the old Adat language that they had come to pay the outstanding amount of the Harta Kawin. It was most important that this was done according to Adat tradition and that the correct language was used. If a mistake was made the groom and his party were sent back and the whole process started all over again.108 After this announcement the parents of the bride invited the party into their home and refreshments were served. When the spokesperson indicated that the Harta Kawin was complete he invited the bride’s family to check the items carried in bowls on the heads of the grooms’ attendants.

16 0

5.44 5.43

5.45

5.43 Bridal fan 5.44 Kain uti-uti (fertility cloth), n/d 5.45 Bunga goyang quivering hairpins

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

This act was in fact the most important event in the ceremony because when after careful inspection the bride’s family agreed that all Adat obligations had been fulfilled they rescinded the bride’s rights to her children. From this moment inheritance of land, lineage and all prerogatives attached to the clan became the husband’s family domain.’109 The parents and the bride joined the groom’s party in prayer together near the piring natsar (offertory plate). Then the bride, flanked by a sister of her father and a sister of her mother, ‘officially’ left the house to join her husband. The two women who accompanied her out of the family home represented not only her family but also the clan she left behind. Outside the spokesperson held a last speech to remind the bride that from now on she belonged to the family of her new husband, who would take care of her and her children. The groom then took the bride by the hand and together with the bridal party, they made their way to his ancestral home. The bridal entourage was led by women from the bride’s family carrying her dowry on their heads, followed by her parents and other family members. The women dressed in Adat costume similar to the women from the groom’s party. Upon arrival at the groom’s home, the women of his clan joined the bride and took her into her bridal chambers, displaying her bridewealth and dowry items on the marital bed. The public procession through the village involved the whole community, with both clans featuring centre stage. Wedding ceremonies became public as specific items of bridal wealth were offered to the village community, such as the kain buka pintu (open door cloth), and the kain berkat (cloth of blessing), which was usually given to the head of the village as compensation to the village for the loss of one of their virgins. This kain was then draped inside the town hall indicating the groom’s respect towards the village. When the bridal party arrived at the groom’s home the bride handed over her kain uti-uti (lap cloth) to her mother in law and offered other items of jewellery such as rings and necklaces to the groom’s sisters and aunties.110 5.46 Various baskets

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Handing this kain to her new family not only bonded the two clans, it also ensured continuity of matriarchal heritage, as this kain would ultimately be handed down to the future daughter of the bride. This gesture fi nalized the transition of the bride from her own clan and indicated her acceptance of her place in her husband’s clan. This last act concluded the Adat part of the wedding, and the civil and Christian ceremonies could now take place. It was most important that the Adat ceremony was conducted fi rst: the civil ceremony was the official act in the eyes of the law, but the profound Adat ceremony was most meaningful.111 Often the Adat ceremony was followed by the civil and Church ceremony on the same day. During the evening the bridal couple mingled with guests and partook in festivities until it was time for the female guests to escort them to the bridal chambers. The elderly females of the village then positioned themselves outside the wedding chamber and made sure they inspected the bedsheets the following morning to satisfy themselves that the bride was a virgin and that the groom had deflowered his bride.112 This inspection was a direct result of Christian asceticism, as virginity was not a condition of marriage in ethnic Ambonese culture. In fact, until at least the start of the twentieth century the husband to be happily accepted children born prior to marriage and out of wedlock.113

Christian Ambonese wedding attire An ethnic Christian bride in the central Moluccas was a vision of red and white with trimmings and accents in gold. She wore a white silk baju top, a white or red satin silk kain draped from the waist, the kain uti-uti (lap cloth) or red tali kain (a narrow fabric belt) accentuating the waist with a white lace lenso pinggan (a white kerchief) tucked into the side and a red satin silk mustisa (U-shaped yoke) placed prominently over the shoulders.114 The baju was made of white Chinese silk decorated overall with gold or red embroidery featured flowers or small geometric designs The neck opening, garment and sleeve hems, as well as the join between sleeve and body panels were highlighted with gold and red braiding.

162

The square-set sleeves tapered at the wrist into an attached cuff, which consisted of a series of small darts of about ten centimetres long, giving the sleeve a blousing effect. The sleeve was closed with seven ball-shaped pearl buttons. At the wrists separate mansets (cuffs) were worn. These mansets consisted of black velvet embroidered with gold couched thread. The wedding kain was made of red or white satin Chinese silk. This silk featured embroidered sprays of flowers or a moiré effect. The designs embroidered on the kain often featured stylized melati flowers (jasmine), cinkeh (cloves) or kelapa leaves (coconut). This kain was different from others used in the central Moluccas because of its centre panel. This centrepiece, the mukah (face), usually consisted of horizontal panels heavily embroidered with gold thread.115 Each panel was separated by gold braid and the whole mukah was defined with a braid border. There was no specific number of panels prescribed. The wedding kain was folded in such a way that the mukah fell into a boxpleat worn at the centre.116 The kain uti-uti was an inherited cloth, and draped over the red wedding kain to hold the whole outfit together. The mother of the bride tied the kain uti-uti around her daughter’s hips to ensure fertility and good luck and to indicate continuity of a maternal bond. If this kain was not available then a long, narrow red silk kain salele,M edged with gold or silver braid, was used instead.117 As in Church dress the mustisa (loose collar) topped the baju. This mustisa of red velvet, embroidered with couched gold thread, together with the centre panel of the kain, formed the seminal pieces of the bridal outfit.118 The mustisa was sometimes cut into a horse-shoe shape, the European symbol of good luck. The elaborate design of the bridal mustisa did not feature ton-sur-ton embroidery as did the mustisa worn at Sidi, but instead featured couched silk gold thread, glass beads and gold sequins embroidered on red satin silk. Accessories consisted of silver and gold rings, gewangs (small earrings) or karabus mas (large gold earrings) and golden chains. Cenela covered in heavily embroidered red silk and white stockings adorned the feet. Brides never wore kaus, as they were reserved for more mature middle class female members of Ambonese society.

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

5.48

5.47

5.49

5.50 5.47 5.48 5.49 5.50

Cenela Mustisa bridal yoke Sarong folded in box pleat, bridal style Black velvet mansets (cuffs)

M

The mustisa and the face of the kain visually played a dominant role in the outfit as the baju and kain were of a very understated shapeless design. Both pieces were red, the traditional Adat colour and both resembled a V-shape, leading the eye directly to the abdomen. This symbolic highlighting of the womb was a strong statement of fertility, clan continuity and womanhood. The sharp pointed toes of the red cenela affi rmed this, as they too pointed straight upwards. The red mustisa underscored the head. It lay open and ready to give birth to the head, signalling the birth of a new member to the groom’s clan. In this symbolic birthing the bride unified the two clans. The mansets were black with gold embroidery and resembled elegant handcuffs. The colour was in stark contrast to the rest of the outfit and called attention to the hands, they were now bound by two velvet rings to her husband’s clan.119 Hands were the bride’s tools: she worked the fields, tended her family’s needs and prepared and served food with them. The black mansets were also tokens of belonging; they matched the colour of the husband’s suit and thus provided the visual link between bride and groom. Black was a significant colour in Christian Ambonese tradition as dress worn to Church services was exclusively black (see elsewhere). The black mansets symbolically tied the bride to Christianity.120 Her hands were simultaneously tied to the Church and her husband in marriage; she was owned by his clan and all rights she had prior to marriage were now duly released to her new family.121 Written evidence of bridalwear of Ambonese women suggests that from the late nineteenth century onwards clothing became more sophisticated in a technical sense, while remaining absolutely true to its initial design.122 More sumptuous fabrics were used and more intricate embroidery applied, but the design, cut and overall appeal remained the same.123

Kain salele was a narrow kain of approximately 40 centimetres wide and draped around the hips over the regular kain during special ceremonies.

163

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Hair styling and hair jewellery Hair styling was an important part of the ritual involved in the preparation of the bride, but a truly unique feature of an Ambonese bride was her use of hair jewellery. The number of items and precious materials used inferred social and economic status. Clothes were often borrowed or leased, but hair jewellery were heirloom pieces of the bride’s clan and constituted an important part of the dowry.124 The bride’s hair was brushed severely back from the face and at the centre back divided into two ponytails. These tails were tightly coiled, intertwined and pinned down into a kondéh ékor bébék (duck tail bun). This hairstyle was a variation of the kondéh falungku (fist-shaped bun) worn by a Nona Cenela. The neck hair was separated and combed up and over the base of the kondéh in two flat locks and twisted in such a way that it resembled a duck’s tail. Often a cemara (false hairpiece) was inserted to give the bun volume.125 No wisps of hair were to fall loose, so the hair was gelled with coconut milk or with the juice of the leaf of a waringin tree.126 The lock in front of the ear was turned into a J-shape facing the earlobe and gelled down in a similar way the hair of Spanish women in the seventeenth century were styled.127 To keep hair out of the face the forehead was shaved back, bar some wisps that were curled into small locks, pasted down. A plaited strip of bamboo called gigi anjing (dog’s teeth) or lokis (from the Dutch term lokjes, meaning ‘hair locks’) was tied around the forehead to accentuate the face and defi ne the hairline.128 Some upper class women secured their hair locks with Indian forehead jewellery consisting of chains of precious metals such as gold or silver with inlay of gemstones, pearls or shell.129 These chains found their way into the Moluccan islands via the trade routes plied by Indian merchants. During the latter half of the nineteenth century the custom of forehead shaving faded and the locks and forehead jewellery gave way to a gigi anjing made of black velvet ric-rac ribbon. This ribbon framed the face in such a manner that it appeared as an inner halo.

16 4

5.51

5.52

5.53 5.51 Bride with hairdresser 5.52 Bridal Sisir (comb) 5.53 Gigi Anjing (bridal forehead jewellery)

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

5.55

5.54 N

5.54 Brideal Ciolé (underwear) 5.55 Bunga Goyang (quivering hairpin)

Whereas the outer halo, created by the panoply of hairpins gave the face a mystique and certain metaphysical quality, the inner halo sharply marked the boundary between the enigmatic and the real. The nexus between the two worlds of orthodox reverie and graphic realism was a jagged thin black ribbon.130 The kondéh ékor bébék was wrapped in a bunga ron and held in place by a large silver or gold sisir in the shape of an overturned arumbai (Moluccan boat). A large silver or gold sisir (comb) in the shape of an overturned arumbai (Moluccan boat) was set at the top of the bun. This comb was set high at the top of the bun and resembled the Mantilla combs of Iberian women. The number of the pins worn corresponded with the social rank of the bride; the amount was calculated as twice the regular number of pins so that a Nona Rok put eight silver korkupings in her kondéh, four on either side, whilst a Nona cenela placed three korkupings on either side of her hairbun.131 As well as the korkupings a set of quivering hairpins (bunga goyang) fanned out from the sides of the kondéh ékor bébék. Only brides wore these ubiquitous gold or silver flower-shaped pins. A tight metal coil of about 7 cm in length was inserted between the hairpin and the flower. All of these bunga goyang bar one, were placed in a circle around the outside kondéh. These metal flowers, heavily decorated with diamantés and pearls swayed on the coil with the slightest movement of the head. As with the number of korkuping pins, social standing of the bride prescribed the material and the number of bunga goyang worn. Ten bunga goyang were used by a Nona Cenela, and twelve bunga goyang for a Nona Rok.132 The last bunga goyang was a very specific one and much larger and more decorative than the others in the set. It was this pin that was placed in the centre of the kondéh and radiated from the bride’s face, framing it in an illuminating manner as light refracted from diamantés and gold sparkle.133 These whimsical hairpins fluttered like flowers in a summer breeze. N

Seluta compares them with wildflowers growing in alangalang (long grass).

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Constructing Ambonese identity through movement and utilising hair jewellery was integral to defi ning and institutionalising socio-cultural, political and economic contexts of ethnic Ambonese society. Objectifying social relations through bunga goyang and expressing these associations physically, identity construction became in the words of Bourdieu (1984) ‘bodily experiences.’134 This large heavily decorated pin signified the acceptance of the mother in releasing her daughter to the groom’s clan. In addition the bunga goyang symbolized the bride’s clan’s recognition and approval of the groom’s bridewealth as a compensatory function to make up for the loss of her potential earnings and costs incurred in raising her. Thus this heavily decorated piece of hair jewellery acted as the conduit through which ethnic culture connected with colonial culture. In addition, bunga goyang were used as the ultimate device to articulate ethnic values and ‘straightness’ of character. A restrained physical posture and a straight back with head held high were fundamental defi ning criteria that showcased Ambonese ethics, morals and ideals. Bunga goyang underscored these highly desirable embodied characteristics as a right and proper bride was at pains to reduce the movement of these pins to an absolute minimum. The slightest movement of bunga goyang indicated corruption or flaw of moral character. Whilst movement as a result of wind or draught were considered as spiritual affi rmation of the moral high standing of the bride and the appropriateness of clan union through marriage. Ethnic Ambonese weddings became a means of infusing adat principles with the external condition of colonial reality, in particular through the objectification of Christian virginality. This was exemplified in the course of wedding rituals with its associated materiality and it was here that binary opposites were most prevalent.135 A unique cultural, religious, historical and colonial pastiche was graphically displayed with two specific practices involving hair jewellery. In the fi rst instance, the custom of physically releasing a family member to join another clan played out in the bride’s compound.

16 6

After the bride completed the dressing and grooming ritual and before she left for church, her mother placed the last pin in the set of bunga goyang in the centre of the kondéh. This large heavily decorated pin signified the acceptance of the mother in releasing her daughter to the groom’s clan. In addition this bunga goyang symbolized the bride’s clan’s recognition and approval of the groom’s bridewealth as a compensatory function to make up for the loss of her potential earnings and costs incurred in raising her. Thus this heavily decorated piece of hair jewellery acted as the conduit through which ethnic culture connected with colonial culture. The second ritual occurred when the newly married couple left the church and the mother of the bride placed a tikam kroonci O (crowning pin) just below the centre of the kondéh. According to van Hoëvell (1875) this ‘Jungfernkranz crowned the Immaculate Conception’ publicly declaring the virginal state of the bride.136 It was richly decorated with gold and red ribbons and resembled a cockade. The ribbons formed a rosette around the flower head of the pin, making it appear like a military insignia whilst the ends of the ribbon hung free. The act of pinning the tikam kroonci on the head of the bride conceptualized the Christian canon of chastity prior to marriage objectifying female virginity, whereas the pin materialized virginity literally into a badge of honour. This crowning pin acted as the reverse conduit of the pin, which was placed in the centre of the kondéh as the tikam kroonci connected colonial culture with ethnic culture. Nineteenth-century anthropologists reported with curiosity and veiled disgust on what they considered the sexual license of the Ambonese women. They repeatedly and severely criticized the sexual attitude of the Moluccans. Van Hoëvell (1875) observed that on Ambon ‘the situation is worse than prostitution.P The notion [of morality] here is totally different than western propriety... A young girl, barely out of school… throws herself into the arms of the first mungaré [young man] who comes along and satisfies her needs. At any time of the day, in any location, and at every turn she will try to satisfy her needs, while young men are proud of their conquests and seize every opportunity they get.

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

O

Tikam kroonci is derived from the Dutch word kroontje, meaning crown.

P

Baron van Hoëvell considered prostitution ’a disorder, a natural phenomenon in a civilized society, which usually comes hand in hand with cultural development’ (van Hoëvell, 1875:126).

Q

The kain pikul (long narrow sash worn in Church) was only worn by married women. During special occasions women from the negeri wore a folded kain from Makassar across their left shoulder to indicate they were married, this fashion was then called ‘inamataena’ (van Hoëvell 1875:84).

5.56

5.57 5.56 Anak ‘J’ hair lock 5.57 Tikam Croonci bridal crowning pin

However, the young girl will drop her new lover when the novelty is over and she will trade him in for another one whenever it pleases her, in varietate voluptas.’137 According to Riedel (1886) ‘A promiscuous jojaro [young girl] is not considered inferior. Strongly regulated intercourse is considered unnatural... [Ambonese] people can not comprehend this notion’.138 Whilst Sachse (1907) lamented that ‘chastity of the jojaro is often questionable’. He blamed this on the ‘freedom’ a young jojaro enjoyed.139 These are intriguing paragraphs, as the responsibilities and ethics of sexuality squarely lay at the cenela of the young girls. The colonizers, with the help of missionaries, enforced a moral code based on Judeao-Christian principles; the code of abstinence before marriage was, in principle at least, adopted by the Christian Ambonese. Therefore it was most significant that the mothers wanted to indicate publicly and visually their daughter’s virtuous status. They appeared to take responsibility for the uncorrupted state of their daughters. Although culturally and colonially it was clearly understood that the situation was far from chaste, it was left to women to absolve themselves in the eyes of the Lord and the colonial community. Visual representation of chastity was strongly tied to ascetic Christian beliefs of celibacy. Other visual references used in Ambonese dress systems related to the married or unmarried status of the wearer, not explicitly to sexual conquests.Q Thus the bride reclaimed virginity for the one occasion, only to be ‘officially’ deflowered, as the sheets of the marital bed would testify the following morning. The fact that in some cases children might have been born prior to the actual wedding ceremony was conveniently overlooked. The Ambonese bride was a prime constituent of personal ethnic identity and the public Dutch-Indonesian persona. She spoke of personal ownership of Ambonese identity and heritage, of clan ownership, of belonging to husband and Church. Bridal dress, more than any Ambonese dress, had become a manipulating tool in the hands of the Ambonese in representing ethnic heritage. Dress was dyadic as it projected identity and was associated with the Ambonese self, mediated by embodied action.

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The Ambonese bride did not simply adorn herself; she expressed her idealistic vision of contemporary ethnic self. Bridal dress was a display of internalized embodiment, reflecting Ambonese cultural position, determined by political worth and informed by colonial history. The head was crowned with a wreath of history, the history of Adat as well as the history of male reclamation of life − the Adat of bridewealth, of headhunting, of cultural blood dripping on the collar worn around the wedding outfit to prove manhood. Significantly it was the female who embodied this cultural heritage in her dress. She wore the red mustisa to show she had been hunted, scalped and claimed. In contrast the groom and his attendants dazzled in their latest European black three-piece suit with a white shirt and back tie. Black patent leather shoes, white gloves and a matching hat completed their hired outfits. It was the bride’s plumage that indicated the occasion. Visually she reigned supreme. She was unmistakably the bride, whereas the groom was merely a well-dressed individual, not true to the occasion, his ethnicity or his intent. The groom’s western wedding outfit rather, was testimony to his desire for recognition of identity. A continuous need for validation of European cultural identity and affi rmation of its values created a sense of lack and the western outfit was its remedy. Men assumed a business-like sophistication, which was dissociated from his true indigenous self. Ambonese bridal dress made powerful statements regarding culture, ancestry and ethnicity, the items holding their own in the changing world of modern, western fashion. As men’s fashion became trapped in the predictability of an ever-changing whirlpool of modern fashion, the women merely refi ned their dress. They stood strong against the flood of new ideas as they adopted new materials and decorative techniques, implemented them inconspicuously and used them to elucidate their cultural heritage and ethnic identity. Their haloed figures represented their strong resolve to maintain indigenous Adat, the foundation of Moluccan society that regulated all cultural dimensions.

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R

Ambonese women who could not conceive, or those couples who had lost a child, were often offered a child by a sister or sister-in-law, thus allowing Ambonese women to appropriate contingency through the child of a relative (Bartels 1989:380-381).

5.58 Bridal hairdo

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

Like blessed virgins they held watch over an ever-increasing whittling away of their ethnicity. In a dignified manner they fought this sedition in a visual way with items of clothing that were testimony to an external and internal Ambonese ethos. However there was a tension here, of strength, belief and maintenance of Ambonese cultural heritage and its future, as well as a simultaneous handing over and becoming tied to colonial western ideals of a patriarchal society, technology and progress. In fact an Ambonese wedding dress reflected a structured union between two mutually exclusive worlds. The items that made up an Ambonese bridal outfit were imbued with potent symbolic meaning. The garments became the ultimate medium through which Ambonese culture expressed itself. The bridal couple formed a visual nexus between tradition and modernism, East and West, the bride in a white and red outfit with its fairytale shoes and a halo of gold and diamanté flowers, and the groom in a western black suit portraying power and control − the savage versus the civilized. A wedding dress was an idealized approximation of an ideal modern Ambonese culture. Its visuality was a realization of Ambonese identity. Bridalwear was contingent on a constant process of identity construction, facilitated by the handing down of the kain uti-uti and other objects from mother to daughter. This special kain and the items of jewellery were then appropriated within the new context of the groom’s clan. Through bridalwear Ambonese women continuously recreated ethnic identity as bridalwear included fragments of the past, as well as future perspectives. The intentionality of the image constructed an ideology of identity, as women expressed Amboneseness. By contrast men’s dress had become captive in the condition of being residual to Dutch colonial society. The use of western clothing by Ambonese men created conflict as it was centred on a lack of power and lack of Dutch identity. The inability of the male to communicate Ambonese identity was obvious, unlike women’s dress and the marriage ritual, which in a powerful manner, embodied ethnic culture.

Women created complex signs of visual Ambonese identity with expressive use of motifs from East and West. They enhanced this through physical gestures such as slow walking, sitting straight and maintaining a stiff upper body.140 Unlike women, men tried to lose their Ambonese embodied expressiveness by adopting a western physicality. As discussed in earlier chapters, they were not (at least by western standards) deemed very successful. Wedding dress as worn by an Ambonese bride and groom demonstrated a primary desire for an independence from colonialist interference and it revealed simultaneously a persistent need for assimilation of Ambonese society into Dutch colonial culture. While women sought to express Amboneseness, men tried to dissolve Ambonese culture. Both were captive of their own fantasy, men with the destruction of Ambonese culture, and women by the fantasy of its creation and representation. And here lies the paradox: through autochthonous dress men celebrated destruction of life whereas women’s life-giving and nourishing capacities were visually hidden yet purposely exemplified during the marriage ritual. In the celebration of marriage, of which the wedding in itself marks the beginning of a possible new generation, men succeeded in visually obliterating Ambonese culture through literal and metaphorical headhunting, whereas women succeeded in renovating the ideal Christian Ambonese identity. Naissance potential was neatly captured with the tikam kroonci, the crowning pin inserted by the mother of the bride in the centre of the hairbun. The allegorical thrust of bridal hair jewellery alluded to the transformation of adolescence into motherhood, encapsulating Alifuru mythology of authority over life through fertility. Power of contingency over life allowed women to feminize the Alifuru discourse of headhunting. The ability to procreate (literally: to bring to life) through their own body, rather than through sacrificing others, accorded Ambonese women power over dissolution of the self in the same way as headhunting did for men. Hair jewellery, specially the tikam kroonci, signified this and completed the panoply of marking the acquisition of birthing potential. R

16 9

CHAPTER FIVE

It is unclear when Ambonese brides fi rst started wearing the outfit described above. However it is clear from dress design that certain features were inspired by European fashions of the seventeenth century, such as the white silk stockings, mustisa, mansets and lensos, as well as the lace and embroidery techniques used. There were also segments of Muslim dress, such as the bajuS and the manner in which the kain was folded into a box pleat, a fold normally used by Muslims.141 Other elements that developed appear exclusively Christian Ambonese, such as the hairstyle and hair jewellery, cenela, and lenso pinggang. Observers also noted that no bride would ever forsake her feathered fan and sunshade.142

‘Dress was used as a medium to indicate how the Ambonese saw themselves, this vision was constituted in traditional Adat.

S

170

Baju are thought to have been introduced by Muslim traders before the arrival of Europeans (Gittinger 1990:69).

Conclusion Communicative dress brings together those fragments of identity that communicate the ethnic self. This communication relies on the comprehension and recognition of visual codes that were historically, politically and culturally shaped. In the case of Ambonese dress, the environmental, historical and cultural shaping of early body covers and adornment was integrated with social and religious dress systems that had developed since colonial domination. These systems collided in the search for the recognition and representation of what was considered ‘true’ Amboneseness. Dress was used as a medium to show how the Ambonese saw themselves; this vision was constituted in traditional Adat. Adat represented the ethics and values of the Ambonese inner self. Heightened awareness of ethnicity resulted in a creative synthesis of refi ned identity, and an extrapolation of ethnic essence was made visible through dress and deportment. Instead of aspiring to a higher status and displaying the newfound rank, observance of ethnic dress form in celebratory contexts allowed the wearer to announce adherence to Adat principles. Therefore Ambonese dress systems designed after colonial incursion were developed as a response to the concern of cultural contingency, although they were heavily mediated by the colonial experience. It comes then as no surprise that these systems had their foundation in the dress system worn to commemorate continuation of life. Ambonese autochthonous dress elements permeated idealized versions of ethnic dress; all systems discussed in this chapter shared a common goal: to announce membership of ethnicity and control of the self in an environment that was under foreign control. The elevation of autochthonous dress from what was considered uncivilized barbarianism to the pinnacle of Adat expression is testimony to the desire to maintain Ambonese ethnicity and acknowledge ancestry while simultaneously seeking visual emancipation from and alignment with western civilization. Visual autonomy occurred at different levels of dress and with different personal intensity.

COMMUNICATIVE DRESS

Underwear became an artefact most intimately involved with the wearer, as it resembled the moment between dress and undress, thus becoming a catalyst to desire. Flugel (1930) suggested that: ‘... of all motives for the wearing of clothes, those connected with the sexual life have an altogether predominant position’. He concluded: ‘clothing originated largely through the desire to enhance the sexual attractiveness of the wearer…’143 In the case of Ambonese woman the ciolé became the key element between the subject and the spectator, between the formal and the informal, between the private and the intimate. As it was visible through the kebaya, it externalized the internal. The internal became external and the external world entered the privacy of the intimate, claiming ambiguity of beauty, vulnerability and exploitation in its path. Ambonese-style underwear became communal as it indicated a great deal about colonial and Ambonese gender constraints within which the discourse of sexuality was formulated. While the colonizers, through their Ethical Policy and religious doctrine, tried to control the visual image of Christian Ambonese women, the women themselves claimed underwear as a medium for achieving and giving expression to their sexual autonomy. This places Ambonese underwear as the most relevant of items of communicative dress in the context of personal sovereignty. Christian Ambonese bridalwear acted as a celebration of ethnicity with its reference to autochthonous dress as well as religious doctrine. It was an undisputed, unique example of Adat ideology that was merged with ascetic principles. Creative agency amalgamated Adat philosophy and visual coding with western technology on the body. The result was an Ambonese vision of homogenous ethnicity operating within an Adat-prescribed context of wedding ritual. Although it was the bride who displayed Adat through her dress, it was the groom who embodied ethnicity through the Adat wedding ritual.

Combined with his western dress he made a powerful statement of coloniality of the Ambonese, at once subordinate to the Dutch Administration and their equal in legal (western) status, while at the same time observant of Adat law. The bridal couple can therefore be considered as the defi nitive image of Ambonese identity, as through their combined dress and demeanour they exemplified a microcosm of Ambonese history.

5.59 Bridal Sisir (comb), shaped like an upturned Arumbai (boat)

171

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

‘‘Ambonese women rescued ethnic Ambonese identity from irreverence.’’’ Marianne Hulsbosch, 2004

EPILOGUE

I

dentity projection through dress is a complex and slippery phenomenon at the best of times.

Often people claim to be ‘themselves’ when they are in private surroundings such as their homes, though that can also be misleading. When venturing out into the wider community they might reconsider their appearance and refi ne, or sometimes change altogether, their exterior through specific dress and demeanour. Often these changes correspond with the intended location, as people’s dress and behaviour alters and they move their bodies in a different manner when they go to the market, attend work, or engage in celebratory or leisure activities. Identity projection communicated via outward appearance becomes even more complicated when several of those contexts are set within different ethnic situations and people are expected to seamlessly weave in and out of these circumstances, each time adopting not only appropriate dress codes but also physical regimes suitable to the occasion at hand. The ability to adhere to the ethnic self and display outward signs of one’s own and sometimes other cultures within a different ethnic constraint calls for creative and daring solutions. Such was the challenge faced by those living in the central Moluccan islands during colonial times. This challenge became a project for both the colonized and the colonizer. The colonizer strengthened his visual position initially by retention of western dress, strictly regulating the textile market and putting sumptuary laws into place. Vastly outnumbered, maintenance of visual dominance throughout the colonial period became of the utmost importance. Western superiority over local Indonesians in all facets of life required visual separation; technological advancement, religious sobriety, sociological sophistication, care of the self and economic dominance was emphasized through clothing and embodied characteristics.

174

A

According to the census (Volkstelling) of 1936, the population of the Ambonese islands in 1930 consisted of 107,216 inhabitants, of whom 32.7% were Muslim, 9.5% were Butonese and some 9.2% were considered ‘other Orientals and Indonesians. This group included the Chinese population (Chauvel, 1990: 3). Unfortunately, due to limited information on these ethnic groups, dress development among these particular communities is not further explored.

6.02 Warrou harbour, Ceram

EPILOGUE

The need for the Christian Ambonese to be politically aligned with the Dutch, but the desire to maintain ethnic independence, together with an ever stronger cry of nationalism as a response to an increasingly racially divided nation, forced reorientation of the ethnic self. Within an increasingly unstable political context Ambonese visual articulation of identity became a celebration of political allegiance and cultural sovereignty. With the introduction of modernist thought, western-style management and consumption to Ambonese colonial society, coupled with the determined Ethical Policy and the promise of privilege, it would be logical to think that western-style dress would eventually triumph over indigenous dress styles. On the contrary, it was precisely the threat of loss of ethnic identity that created an increase in cultural defi nition of Amboneseness. The growing resurgence and assertion of ethnicity during the course of the colonial period created a powerful resolve among the Ambonese to develop systems that represented their core principles and values on their bodies and culminated in the strengthening of ethnic identity. Although the colonized and the colonizer expressed different political, social and ethnic views, what they shared were the aim and its tools: communicating cultural and political position via dress styles.

The impetus of identity construction in colonial context Political power not only repressed but simultaneously nurtured ethnic identity. It generated an awareness of lack and caused people to question how meanings were conveyed. Dress restriction or political indifference pressured the individual and the collective to discover new possibilities in self presentation. As such, colonial power was a positive element in the development of various dress systems worn in the central Moluccan islands. Colonially infused restrictions and regulations activated awareness of absence of visual identity among all layers of colonial and colonized society; it created the need for each cultural faction to defi ne and (re) construct ethnicity in the most authoritative manner. The power

of identity manipulation asserted by the government propelled the development of new dress systems for the colonized as well as the colonizer, escalating visual separation between rulers and their subjects. Cultural meaning was grafted onto the skin through dress items, but signification of subtle layers of identity remained the prerogative of the initiated.1 Therefore, items of dress or ensembles indicating socioeconomic rank, age, marital status or education were understood within one’s own ethnic society but rarely was this knowledge and understanding culturally transferred. Yet the composite image of western society became a powerful impetus for the Ambonese to defi ne and celebrate their own ethnicity through the development and implementation of dress designs and the transfer of cultural signification to specific objects. Christian Ambonese identity construction should not be seen in isolation from the identity formation that occurred among the colonial population of the central Moluccas, nor should it be divorced from the identities forged by other ethnic groups such as the Muslim Ambonese, Butonese and Chinese population, or indeed the European expatriates living in an around Ambon. A Rather than considering one dress style as a dominant element in a culturally fragmented Ambon, the constitutive power of each, regardless of ethnicity, homogenized the drive to assert ethnic differentiation in a balanced, reciprocal manner. In fact the consecutive nature of dress development and identity construction across all ethnic groups attests to the inherent recursive desire of segregation from each other. Without this necessity the need for visual separation and identity construction would be negative. The position of ‘others’ is dependent on the awareness of ethnicity of the self; therefore, I did not consider identity formation via outward expression from the perspective of one ethnic group only.

175

EPILOGUE

Identity construction through dress Despite remarkable disparity in ethnicity, history, political power, and socioeconomic and cultural milieu, the formation of identity through dress and deportment by the colonizer and the colonized were strikingly similar. This was evident in the outstanding variety, creativity and high quality of the dress ensembles produced across all ethnic diversities, as well as the purposeful intent of inscribing cultural meaning to individual objects. The association between cultural defi nition and the construction of personal and group identity through dress development is not a prerogative of one ethnic group over another but the result of a unifying, shared experience common to all people: that of embodied consciousness and the desire to develop and present a specific identity in relation to the self and society. Thus, identity formation of Ambonese ethnic groups was directly linked to identity construction of the colonizer and vice-versa; it was in the context of the colonial encounter that the emergence of these identities is situated. Construction of each of these unique identities was only made possible through the development of the others. They were not developed in competition with one another but rather in harmony as each identity complemented one another in cultural acknowledgement, timing, technology, intricacy, and embellishment. Rhythms of development may have had their own cadence, but the diverse identities were shown cross-culturally in perfect unison. This was especially visible in public places such as markets, where the majority of the identities described in this project could have been observed at any given time.

Identity formation of the Ambonese ethnics groups was directly linked to the identity construction of the colonizer. 6.03 Maluku princess, Ambon, 1867

176

EPILOGUE

Ambonese identity construction through sartorial means

6.04

6.05

6.04 Pendoedoek Poelau Ceram, 1955 6.05 Alifuru decorative designs

Ambonese identity formation was premised on the attempted destruction of Ambonese culture and ethnicity. Western colonial intervention, facilitated through strong Christian assertion, ultimately provided for the implementation of deconstruction and re-formation of original forms of Ambonese dress and opened the way for a modernist appropriation of elements across the variety of ensembles that now constitute the Ambonese dress lexicon. Rather than these ensembles depicting an unchanging ancient past, they were testimony to a requisition of ethnic confidence that found its assurance in its own cultural presence. Ambonese ethnic defi nition, as well as colonial affi rmation, was contextualized within the discourse of economic power. Consciousness of ethnic awareness and cultural roots fuelled the desire to develop visual difference and constructed a physical ethnic presence enhanced through clothing and adornment. The Ambonese highlighted their creative ability to graft cultural significance and meaning through careful selection, combination and careful placement of specific dress elements, making these ensembles a metonym for identity. Ambonese dress elements were fetishized according to their cultural value, and dress order was maintained in the strictest sense to uphold cultural continuity. Deviation from these rules or transgression of their clear-set boundaries equalled treason. Ambonese community surveillance and societal expectations saw to it that standards were strictly maintained.2 Outside Ambonese circles these dress rules and regulations were not known. Westerners only recognized transgression of ethnic dress boundaries when ethnic dress was substituted for western clothing.3 Equally, in the colonial community, western clothing rules and regulations, as well as their corresponding behavioural patterns, although unspoken, were strictly adhered to, as divergence or contravention earned the wrath of the expatriate community. What was at stake in either community was collective defi nition from the Other, reliant on the interaction between differential and relational criteria applicable to both societies.

177

EPILOGUE

Variation within each layer of the community was not only founded on difference between each socioeconomic group but also between individuals. Personal historical experiences interacted with reproduction of visual emblems of one’s own group, allowing for a degree of creative variance. (Re)creation and reinterpretation of new dress items invested fresh value in their authority to display identity. Visual stability of ethnic identity was achieved by maintaining an ‘overall’ look; individual marks such as alternative embellishment, were only acknowledged by the initiated. The leitmotiv used in the development of Ambonese dress systems was the collaboration of Adat significance with Christian puritan values. To this day Adat continues to play a central role in the life of the Ambonese, and the traditional Alifuru B concept of jago (the fearless warrior) has remained foremost in Ambonese conscious with males and females alike, regardless of their religious background. Adat acted metonymically: Christianity or Islam became synonymous with ancestry worship, which in turn defi ned personal ethos and values. What in this text is labelled ‘autochthonous dress’ developed according to the jago principle; it was this dress system that strongly informed and shaped subsequent dress items and ensembles. It was this alliance of Adat with puritan values that created an amorphic unity indicative of Christian Ambonese identity, and dress exemplified this unity in a bold and graphic manner. Regular Ambonese daywear was circumscribed by Adat practices, technologies of the self, religious exposure, colonial and local power structures, and trade and socioeconomic history. Unity of these discourses defi ned development and transformation of the self, and dress managed to achieve a transformation from early autochthonous dress, to dress systems that came to defi ne various layers of Ambonese colonial society. Ambonese dress design referred to the creation and cultivation of specific forms of behaviour and beliefs externalized on the body. Headhunting experience consolidated in the recognition of dissolution of life.

178

6.05

B

The Ambonese consider West Seram and in particular Mount Nunusaku the birthplace of traditional Ambonese culture, and the local Alifuru culture the keepers of Ambonese tradition (Cooley, 1962a). Although the Ambonese considered their culture superior over these wild heathens, the Alifuru were revered as the source and guardians of Ambonese ethnicity. It is therefore no coincidence that Alifuru dress practice in these inland regions became the catalyst for the development of subsequent Ambonese clothing systems.

6.06

6.05 Government offi cial with family, Ambon, 1920 6.06 Raja of Nalahia and family, Nusalaut, 1903

EPILOGUE

When the Ambonese faced the uncertainty of being, power over life was marked on the cidako through the synchronization of symbols of contingency (the hunter) and annihilation (the hunted). Via headhunting men appropriated the ability to assume contingency over life (fertility) through gaining strength from the hunted. When women were at their most fertile − while shedding life-giving blood or giving birth − they found themselves banned from society, seeking refuge in menstruation huts that were placed on the periphery of the village, on the very spot where men relieved themselves of impure bodily waste. Withdrawal from society and placing themselves in these environments equated women to waste.

The power of women in constructing identity

6.07 Chief Doruma and family Maluku, 1905

It would be a mistake to deny the contribution women made to the formation of identity, either within Ambonese or in totok culture. Women’s contribution was absolutely crucial to identity formation. The powerful voice of ethnic Ambonese and other women highlighted and exposed their shared ability to use that voice creatively and speak loudly about issues of the self, power, gender, religion, socioeconomics, politics and coloniality. While initially it appears a dualism existed between identity formation of Ambonese and European women, on closer inspection this polarity is false in the light of common aims and processes: women were successful in adopting change through perseverance and resilience without denying their experience of the self. Those who were committed to their own ethnicity kept cultural roots alive according to their desire for self-identification regardless of racial background. Subsequent dress systems reached their peak during the latter part of the Dutch colonial period. The centrality of physical control over Ambonese women was formalized with the arrival of colonial rule, as the government’s aim was to enforce Christian puritanical values. However western measures of self-control and ethnic cultural anticipation created a space for women to develop an interface between private desire and outward expression of ethnicity.

179

EPILOGUE

Consequent dress reinforced the private desire of sexual independence. Physical editing through items of dress reinforced not only the body’s external boundaries; it simulated deformation of internal boundaries and in doing so reclassified physicality. Items of dress policed the conscious and subconscious sexuality of the Ambonese female. Sexuality of the body was translated through dress in order to arouse both spectator and self. Various items in the Ambonese dress repertoire were imbued with sexual consciousness, confidence and control, such as cenela and kaus, the ubiquitous Ambonese slippers, and the seethrough kebaya that revealed various types of underwear.

Ambonese women’s identity constructed through footwear Cenela and kaus were not only metonymic but were erotic in their own right. These slippers caressed the feet, and symbolized sexual availability because their shape forced women to display physical constraint in their movement. Cenela and kaus were items of disciplinary technology as they forced women to become docile so they could be subjected to, used and transformed by various elements in colonial society. Concurrently Ambonese society regarded covering of feet as synonymous with acceptance of Christian, and therefore colonial, values. Thus cenela and kaus became highly symbolic vestments of colonized culture. Ethnic women however managed to successfully empower themselves with the use of these slippers: they displayed colonial association and at the same time manipulated disciplinary power by promoting sexual arousal among Ambonese men and sexual assertiveness and control of the self among themselves. Cenela and kaus exemplified construction of a new Ambonese identity, seemingly in opposition to efforts of conforming to ethnic (Alifuru) ideals, but in reality it was complementary to it: a distinct ethnic visual identity was constructed that took reference and reason for its existence in emblems it was designed to replace.

6.08

6.09

6.08 Cenela 6.09 Kaus

18 0

EPILOGUE

Binding of the feet with cenela or kaus neatly wrapped a divided society consisting of two distinct elements of Ambonese culture − those who accepted western puritanical values and those who ascribed to traditional Alifuru ethnicity − and integrated these into a new ethnic construct: the Dutch-Ambonese.

Ambonese women’s identity constructed through underwear

6.10

The European missionaries and teachers who visited the central Moluccan islands displayed western sexual behaviour and attitudes of the times, in stark contrast to behaviour displayed by ethnic Ambonese. Through administrating the self, the state tried directly to govern the Ambonese through intervention at the most personal level. A western concept of nudity gave rise to the understanding of a western meaning of undress. It was this understanding and its subsequent appropriation within local society that had the strongest impact on the development of ethnic Ambonese women’s dress. Through simultaneously covering and uncovering the body an association of erotic awareness with particular body parts developed in tandem with western views, though on women’s terms. Corresponding dress items such as the ciolé and kutang, and indirectly the sheer kebaya, became infused with power, because it was through their design and subsequent use that eroticism was signalled. This activity was entirely directed at men as their gaze was refocused towards the small of the back, thus developing a critical interplay of Foucauldian tradition in which the spectator commands power over his subject and the subject decrees power over her observer through securing and directing his gaze.

Ambonese women’s identity construction through kebaya 6.11

6.10 Lace details 6.11 Black kebaya

Translucent Ambonese kebaya epitomized multiple dichotomies of desire and repression, veiling and unveiling availability, as well as framing and marginalizing imminent potential while at the same time referring inwards to the body and radiating outwards from the body. The ability to signify these binary oppositions relied on the fact that these dichotomies intertwined and interdependent.

181

EPILOGUE

The semi-transparent kebaya underscored the ciolé, designed for maximum effect to display proprietary and restraint as well as sexuality and availability, instantly allowing women to become its source and destination. Kebaya did not disclose the absence of sexuality but rather signalled its presence, resulting in a creative response. Interplay of revelation and concealment turned the Ambonese body into a visual spectacle stimulating desire, making kebaya and ciolé dynamic tools in the actualization of Ambonese sexuality rather than its outcome. The coexistence of disclosure and camouflage bestowed power onto the garments and transferred this power to the wearer. This double discourse allowed the manipulation of power in explicit ways: selection of fabric could further reveal or conceal, embroidery on the ciolé could highlight or diffuse, pleating of the ciolé and tali kain under the kebaya, as well as physical movement, could obscure or promote sexual availability, consenting to the possibility of desires being realized.

6.12

Ambonese women’s identity construction through religious dress It may appear that dress worn by Ambonese women during Christian ritual made sexuality void. Erasure of physicality by wrapping the body in ‘infi nity’ produced unlimited quenching of spiritual appetite. Annulment of the sexual (heathen) body signified acknowledgment not only of its sexuality and ability to procreate, thus ensuring contingency, but also signalled surrender of fertility and submission of ownership of the body to state-sanctioned, male-dominated religion. Abandonment of physical control and deference to faith allowed religion (and through religion the state) to indulge control of external, internal and spiritual identity. Order and subsequent management and policing of desire was a direct result of Christian ascetic influence. The body’s expression of physicality through sexual activity was constraint. Procreation, consumption, and property were socially, politically, and religiously regimented. Outward expression of restraining desire was made visible through embodiment, behaviour, clothing, and religiosity.

182

6.13

6.12 Baniang 6.13 Man dressed in jas tutup, woman in chequered kain, Ambon, n/d

EPILOGUE

Therefore Ambonese dress worn within a Christian religious context is considered within the central theme of the perpetual struggle between lack and desire. Within the context of Christianity sartorial display of excess was considered an external manifestation of the spiritual world and hence not accepted. Europeans viewed embodied restraint through the prism of appearance; visual identity was in correspondence with Christian religious values and mores, and was politically controlled and socially enforced, initially through the VOC and later through the state. Ambonese women, however, took ownership of this Christian vision and successfully amalgamated ethnic history with colonial values through the development of the kain pikul. Dress worn for Christian religious ritual adopted prescribed, socially agreed elements of dress that displayed interpersonal relationships with colonial society and one’s ethnic cultural group as well as women’s resolve to display ethnic measures of independence.

Ambonese women’s identity construction using western dress

6.14

6.15

6.14 Nona Kaus, n/d 6.15 Nona Kaus ready for church, Ambon, n/d

Dress of the Europeans and of the Ambonese recursively created the possibility of each other’s development; without each other each was deprived of its existence. They were each other’s captives and in the process of continuous reciprocity each system created specific identities. Through dress development Ambonese identity remained expressive, stipulating that the colonial community too invest in its own visuality. The influence and change was mutual. A marked separation occurred between ‘real’ Europeans (totoks) from those who ‘acquired’ European status. Despite legal equality Ambonese society was divided along racist lines. Operating at a domestic level, the mechanism of colonial power reached deep into the homes and hearts of the Eurasians and the Ambonese, the majority of whom worked in the factories or homes of Dutch managers, feeding an underlying apprehension. Desire by ethnic Ambonese for colonial alignment in order to gain economic advantage resulted in a distinct visual delineation according to political focus, education, socioeconomic status and gender.

183

EPILOGUE

Initially, European status was a valuable commodity, but towards the end of the nineteenth century, when a large contingent of Ambonese could lay claim to it and acted according to what they conceived as European manners and attitudes, its political worth became devalued. Outward expression became a demarcation tool separating totoks and others. Superior Dutch- language education offered greater opportunities for better employment, resulted in increased material welfare and created a large group of Ambonese bourgeoisie who, by the beginning of the twentieth century, ‘no longer knew the condition of their land and people, alienated from its history, economy and society.’4 This alienation had a profound effect on social relations within the Ambonese community. Not all of those who were educated found employment or managed to secure a place into the KNIL, and with the advancement of European wives who accompanied their husbands, local women lost their primary place as heads of European households. Furthermore, Eurasian children found themselves overtaken by Dutch children who were born in The Netherlands or had ‘real’ Dutch parents.

6.16

6.17

Ethnic identity expression For Christian Ambonese couples representation of a constructed western self was enhanced by simultaneous representation of the ethnic self: men dressed in a uniform-like black western suit while women dressed in colourful batiks, sumptuously embroidered ciolé and glittering jewellery. When more ethnic women complied with the criteria for acquiring legal European status and access to items of western fashion became commonplace during the 1930s, the majority of Christian Ambonese women started to wear western dress, especially in Kota Ambon. However, particularly during colonial festivities or life rites such as weddings, confi rmation and christenings, public displays of ethnicity was celebrated. 5 6.16 Nona Rok, Ambon, n/d 6.17 KNIL soldier and family, n/d 6.18 Nona Militair, Ambon, 1938

18 4

6.18

EPILOGUE

Display of cultural identity, although fragmented, indicated recognition and partial claim of ethnicity. Western dress worn by Ambonese men, was caught in the state of being merely the residue of colonial society, whereas Ambonese dress for women achieved interpersonal recognition through the deliberate maintenance of ethnic identity. The capacity for recognition was exclusive; its strength was enhanced through shared narrative. Western suits and ethnic dress epitomized the difference between the couple: men exemplified male fantasies of European warrior status through military uniforms or business sophistication, assuming cessation, while women sought to associate with ethnic culture, assuming continuity. These positions were in direct contradiction to Adat roles where Alifuru warriors assumed perpetuity through headhunting and women’s contribution to society was contingent on the fi nality of life. It is this fundamental change that spearheaded the manner in which all members of Ambonese society, whether ethnic Ambonese or others, developed and displayed their identity. During colonial rule Ambonese society was reliant on that of the colonizer while at the same time the Portuguese, and later the Dutch East Indies government, were dependent on the Ambonese for economic and military reasons. Identity and dress development are never isolated occurrences, and identity construction is a shared condition that develops its own recursive rhythm of reciprocity. Ethnic Ambonese identities were unique for a variety of reasons: their infusion of western and other Asian elements; the strong visual and emotional links to autochthonous dress throughout the array of systems; and the defi nitive place of western clothing in the hierarchy of the colonial institution and its ability to represent social factions and differentiate from colonial rule, while at the same time it united ethnic culture. Westerners not only informed but also actively responded to Ambonese identity construction; they developed their own visual image and conduct in tandem, however, though they never fully included ethnic dress systems nor adopted ethnic embodied characteristics in their repertoire. The slaapbroek and baadje for men and the sarong and kebaya for women emulated ethnic dress but they were a western construct developed and worn on western terms.

It was crucially important for the westerners that they created an ethnic dreamscape complete with architectural environments, domestic staff and a tropical fantasy lifestyle, but it was a tableau that found its reality only in the reflection of their desire.

Ambonese identity maintenance in the diaspora When at last The Netherlands passed sovereignty to the Indonesian Republic and independent status for the central and south-east Moluccan islands was denied by the newly formed Indonesian Republic a large scale exodus of Ambonese KNIL military and their families and other Moluccan sympathizers ensued. More than 12,000 were exiled in The Netherlands and the dream of a free Moluccan Republic has been kept alive since their arrival in 1952. Their desire to see all Moluccan people free and for their families and children to return one day has fuelled their resolve to maintain, at least visually, their ethnic identity. The cultural and political cohesiveness of the Moluccans in The Netherlands has resulted in the preservation of ethnic emblems through dress. Although they see themselves as a distinctly different group from other Indonesians who live in the Netherlands, the boundaries between Ambonese festive ethnic dress and ethnic dress worn by other Indonesians have become decidedly blurred except for two significant essential life rites: bridal wear and dress worn during Sidi. While these particular dress systems have sustained their unique visual appearance, they have become more tailored and they incorporate different decorated textiles, colour and accessories. 6 What all disaporic Ambonese dress systems have in common is the loss of traditional ethnic societal ranks. Visual differentiation between various classes has completely disappeared and the knowledge and understanding of the diverse ethnic categories has all but been eroded in modern Moluccan society. In its place a new reverence for ethnic dress traditions has developed whereby it has become very fashionable to dress in ethnic inspired clothing, albeit with a modern twist.

185

EPILOGUE

Whereas previously in Ambonese colonial society the ethnic upper class women defi ned their position by wearing western clothing, nowadays ethnicity is celebrated with adherence to ethnic dress motifs. The colours black and red are considered adat colours and often feature prominently in ethnic ensembles. There is also new development in men’s attitude to dress. The sons of KNIL soldiers in The Netherlands have no allegiance to military dress, and in any case the KNIL military uniform is often viewed as a relic of the colonial past and not indicative of the current political context of the modern Moluccan.7 As a result reinterpreting ethnic identity and molucanness in western society the Moluccan male has reverted to wearing the traditional baniang and kebaya over dark (western) pants. This dress ensemble is now considered ‘high class Moluccan.’8 Equally, the Moluccans living in Jakarta Indonesia have assigned great value to their traditional dress.9 This is especially demonstrated during Sidi and wedding ceremonies when the majority of Moluccans choose to dress in modern adat clothing. What the Moluccans in Jakarta share with their compatriots living in the Netherlands is not only the loss of visible ethnic class identification markers, they demonstrate their ability to adhere to their unique ethnic identity in the face of cosmopolitan western influence and have managed to reconstruct this identity in a sophisticated and modern way.

6.19 Bridal couple, Ambon, n/d

18 6

EPILOGUE

Conclusion Ambonese women rescued Ambonese identity from irreverence; they were invigorated by the crisis of becoming invisible and dress became an essential element in defending against the loss of their visuality. During the Dutch colonial encounter they managed to successfully establish a link between cultural Adat principles and modern technology and resources. These associations were epitomized through dress development and integrated in the manner in which they asserted their identity. Their predisposition of Adat tradition and its cultural significance was embedded in the objects with which they adorned themselves. Despite the complexities of life in a colonial society, Ambonese women tended towards a united, myopic, defensive rationality in terms of their identity development. Their transition from barkcloth to sophisticated dress system, their power to transcend status and their ability to successfully unite ethnicity with western ideology stands as quiet reproach to self-indulgent, self-important colonial masters whose dress and refi nement had become effete during their reign. Ambonese women displayed a remarkably sophisticated understanding of the power of vicarious identity. It was the genius of these women to exploit advantageously their paradoxical position of being simultaneously of the colonizer and Ambonese cultures. This ubiquitous placement provided them with the opportunity to develop a visual identity, which deserves further investigation, as their visual presence was consigned beyond the outer periphery of Ambonese history.

6.20 Nona Duduk Rumah selling fruit, Ambon, n/d

187

Chapter References

CHAPTER REFERENCES

REFERENCES

References Prologue 1

See for instance Barnes and Eicher 1992; Craik 1994; Polhemus and Proctor 1978.

10

van Baardewijk et al 1998:82-83.

11

Bell 1976; Braudel 1981; Breward 1998; Entwistle 2000; Wilson 1985.

12

Entwistle 2000:82; Wilson 1985:20.

13

Taylor 1997.

14

Reid 1996:5.

15

Chauvel 1990:19.

16

van Fraassen 1983:19.

2

See also: Ash and Wilson 1992; Bell 1976; Davis 1992; Flugel 1930; Laver 1986; Simmel 1904; Veblen 1954.

3

Entwistle 2000:48.

17

Chauvel 1990:25.

4

Davis 1992:14; Kaiser 1990.

18

Chauvel 1990:20.

5

Personal communication Patty 2001; see also Plak 1993.

19

Boelens et al. 2001:225.

6

Geertz 1973.

20

Chauvel 1990:26.

7

Frank 1991:54.

21

van Fraassen 1983:35.

8

Frank 1991:47-49.

22

van Baardewijk 1998:74.

9

Mead 1934.

23

van Fraassen 1983:36.

10

Arthur 1999:1.

24

Zwitzer and Heshusius 1977:10.

11

Finkelstein 1991.

25

Chauvel 1990:39.

12

Arthur 1999:1.

26

Chauvel 1990:39.

13

Frank 1991:79.

27

van Fraassen 1983:37.

14

Schulte-Nordholt 1997.

28

Chauvel 1990:44.

Baudrillard 1988.

29

Zwitzer and Heshusius 1977:11.

16

Entwistle 2000:35.

30

Bartels 1989:10.

17

Hulsbosch 2006:2-9.

31

de Graaf 1977:279.

32

Taylor 1983:72.

15

Chapter 1 Ambonese Society Under Colonial Rule

33

Locher-Scholten 2000; Taylor 1983.

1

See for instance: Bartels 1989, 1994; Chauvel 1990; Jansen 1930; Ludeking 1868; Roelfsema 1917; and Sachse 1907.

34

Taylor 1983; van Baardewijk 1998:81.

35

van Baardewijk 1998:78.

2

See for instance: Andaya 1993; Dean 1981; Knaap 1987; van Kaam 1977.

36

Locher-Scholten 1996:17.

3

Pickell 1997.

37

van Baardewijk 1998:74.

4

Pickell 1997.

38

van Baardewijk 1998:74.

5

Darby et al. 1977:792.

39

van Baardewijk 1998:80.

6

Pickell 1997.

40

Chauvel 1990:62.

7

Andaya 1993; Darby et al. 1977:792.

41

Boelens et al. 2001:271; Chauvel 1990; van Baardewijk 1998:82.

8

Chauvel 1990:18.

42

Chauvel 1990:138.

9

van Fraassen 1983.

43

Boelens et al. 2001:271.

19 0

REFERENCES

44

Zwitzer and Heshusius 1977:10.

24

Wassing-Visser 1982:80.

45

van Baardewijk 1998:182.

25

46

Bartels 1989:1.

Guy 1998:79; personal communication, Jozef 2001; Malawauw-Saija 2001; Sahusilawane 2001.

47

Rinsampessy 1992:173.

26

van Hoëvell 1875:81.

48

Rinsampessy 1992:250.

27

Ludeking 1868:81.

49

Rinsampessy 1992:175; van Baardewijk 1998:184.

28

Bartels 1994:408.

50

Rinsampessy 1992:253.

29

Kybalova, Herbenova, and Lamarova 1968:177.

Chapter 2 Disciplined Dress

30

Riedel 1886:64.

31

Hukom and Lilipaly-de Voogt 1985:78. Rumphius 1705: Book 2 Chapter 7.

1

Gallop 1995:62; Muller 1997:30.

32

2

Foucault 1978, 1979.

33

Rumphius 1705: Book 2 Chapters 7, 8, and 9.

3

Personal communication, Tuhuteru 2001; Suitela 2000.

34

Personal communication, Seluta 2001.

4

Anderson, Black and Garland 1980:95.

35

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001; Tahamata 2001.

5

Kohler 1963:221.

36

Personal communication, Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; Matitaputty 2001.

6

Laver 1986:90.

37

Galvão 1544: Vol. 3, 231.

7

Featherstone, Hepworth, and Turner 1991; Synnott 1993; Turner 1996.

38

Lennon 1908 [1796]; Volume 60:306. Maxwell 1990:309.

Turner 1996:49.

39

9

Wilon 1985:21.

40

van Hoëvell 1875:80-81.

10

Boelens, Fraassen, and Straver 2001:180; Chauvel 1990:3; de Graaf 1977:27.

41

van Hoëvell 1875:78-80.

42

Personal communication, van Bommel-Pattisahusiwa 2001.

11

Taylor 1997:106.

43

Personal communication, Ririn 2001.

12

Valentijn 1724-26.

44

Personal communication, van Bommel-Pattisahusiwa 2001.

13

See for instance: Andaya 1993; Gouda 1995; Elsbeth Locher-Scholten 2000; Maxwell 1990; Taylor 1992.

45

Chauvel 1990:38.

14

van Hoëvell 1875; Riedel 1886; Sachse 1907.

46

Chauvel 1990:35-8.

15

Taylor 1983:66-68.

47

Personal communication, van Bommel-Pattisahusiwa 2001.

16

Foucault 1979:191.

17

Taylor 1997:103.

18 19

8

48

Elsbeth, Locher-Scholten, and Niehof 1992:3.

49

Personal communication, Manahutu 2001; Pattikawa 2001; Pattikawa 2001; Patty 2001.

Anderson 1967:212.

50

Jansen 1939:335; Riedel 1886:64.

Ludeking 1868:81; Riedel 1886:64.

51

Jansen 1939:334.

20

Personal communication, Seluta 2001; Siwalete 2001.

52

Riedel 1886:64.

21

Gittinger 1990:66.

53

van Hoëvell 1875:84.

22

Gittinger 1990:69.

54

van Hoëvell 1875:87.

23

Personal communication, Noija 2001.

55

Valentijn 1724.

191

REFERENCES

56

van Hoëvell 1875:87; Riedel 1886:65.

86

Gittinger 1990:116.

57

Sachse 1907:77.

87

Sachse 1907:72.

58

Riedel 1886:64.

88

Taylor 1992:250.

59

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001; Pattikawa 2001; Seluta 2001; Seluta 2001.

89

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001.

90

van Hoëvell 1875:86.

60

Personal communication, Tupanwael 2001.

91

Hulsbosch 2009:177.

61

Taylor 1997:105.

92

van Hoëvell 1875:85.

62

Personal communication, Wigard 2000.

93

Personal communication, Matitaputty 2001; Munumete-Siahaya 2001.

63

Hulsbosch 2009:175.

94

Hulsbosch 2009:178.

64

Riedel 1886:64; personal communication, Seluta 2001; Suitela 2000; Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; Matitaputty, 2001; Patty 2001; Tahamata 2001; Siwalete 2001.

95

Personal communication, Uneputty 2001.

96

Chauvel 1990:50.

97

Chauvel 1990:44.

98

Boelens et al. 2001:243; Chauvel 1990:41.

99

Personal communication, Siwalete 2001; Seluta 2001.

100

Personal communication, Siwalete 2001.

101

Personal communication, Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; Latuheru-Pelasula 2001.

102

Personal communication, Tuhuteru 2001.

65

van Hoëvell 1875:85; Riedel 1886:64.

66

van Hoëvell 1875:84.

67

Maxwell 1990:268; van Oss 1996.

68

Maxwell 1990:23; van Oss 1996:38; Taylor 1997:113.

69

van Oss 1996; Taylor 1997:112.

70

Taylor 1997:114.

71

Jansen 1939:333.

72

Poel 1981:34.

73

Hulsbosch 2009:176.

74

Personal communication, Matitaputty 2001; Munumete-Siahaya 2001.

75

Personal communication, Uneputty 2001.

76

Taylor 1992:250.

77

Taylor 1992:253.

78

van Hoëvell 1875:80-84.

79

O’Keefe 1996:135.

80

Personal communication, Noija 2001; Seluta 2001; Seluta 2001; Siwalete 2001.

81

Personal communication, Uneputty 2001.

82

Personal communication, Manuputty 2001; Munumete-Siahaya 2001; Tupanwael 2001; Uneputty 2001.

83

Hulsbosch 2009:177.

84

Hulsbosch 2004:45.

85

Personal communication, Seluta 2001; Siwalete 2001.

192

103

Personal communication, Seluta, 2001; Siwalete 2001; Tupanwael 2001.

104

Taylor 1992:262.

105

van Hoëvell 1875:79-80.

106

van Hoëvell 1875:79.

107

Maxwell 1990:310.

108

van Hoëvell 1875:79; personal communication, Ririn 2001.

109

Riedel 1886:32.

110

Personal communication, Sadino-Pelupessy 2001.

111

Personal communication, van Bommel-Pattisahusiwa 2001.

112

Jansen 1939:336.

113

Jansen 1939:337.

114

Sachse 1907:147.

115

van Hoëvell 1875:86.

116

Riedel 1886:39.

117

Jansen 1939:334.

118

Riedel 1886:39.

REFERENCES

119

Jansen 1939:333.

20

120

Personal communication, Seluta 2001.

21

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001.

121

Jansen 1939:333.

22

Personal communication, Matitaputty 2001; Manahutu 2001; Seluta 2001.

122

Riedel 1886:40.

23

Chauvel 1990:48; personal communication, Patty 2001; Seluta 2001.

123

Jansen 1939:333; Riedel 1886:40.

24

Villiers 2001:157.

124

Sachse 1907:74.

25

Anderson Black and Garland 1980:115

125

Personal communication, Patty 2001; Pattiasina-Wenno 2001.

26

126

Dean 1981.

Bartels 1994:408; personal communication, Seluta 2001; Seluta 2001; Siwalete 2001.

127

Personal communication, Evers-Claes 1999.

27

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001.

Personal communication, Evers-Verspaget 2000.

28

Personal communication, Siwalete 2001.

29

Personal communication, Leeman-Musila 2001.

128

Chapter 3 Dominating Dress

Personal communication, Pesulima 1999.

30

Personal communication, Uneputty 2001.

31

Personal communication, Huwaé-Sabandar 2001; Lesimanuaja-Amahoru 2001; Loupatty-Lessil 2001; Sahusilawane 2001. Personal communication, Seluta 2001; Siwalete 2001.

1

Frank 1991:55.

2

Hulsbosch 2007.

3

Boelens, Fraassen, and Straver 2001:211.

32

4

Bartels 1989:186; 1994; Heeringa 1964; personal communication, Pattikawa 2001; Seluta 2001.

33

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001.

34

Personal communication, Matitaputty 2001; Matitaputty 2001; Seluta 2001; Seluta 2001; Tuhuteru 2001; Tuhuteru 2001; Tupanwael 2001. See also Bartels 1989, 1994.

5

Arthur 2000:1.

6

Chauvel 1990; van Fraassen 1983:18.

35

7

Bartels 1994:209; de Graaf 1977.

36

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001; Tahamata 2001.

8

Bartels 1994:187; Chauvel 1990.

37

Personal communication, Seluta 2001

9

See for example: Bartels, 1989, 1994; Chauvel 1990; Jansen 1939; Ludeking 1868; Roelfsema 1917; Sachse 1907.

38

Personal communication, Siwalete 2001

39

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001.

10

Riedel 1886:64.

40

Personal communication, Lilipaly-de Voogt 2001; Seluta 2001.

11

Personal communication, Huwaé-Sabandar 2001; Lesimanuaja-Amahoru 2001; Loupatty-Lessil 2001; Sahusilawane 2001.

41

Personal communication, Seluta 2001.

42

Personal communication, Siwalete 2001.

12

Bartels 1994:414-415.

43

Personal communication, Manuhuwa 1999; Wattimena 1999.

13

Chauvel 1990:48; Ludeking 1868:48.

44

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001; Seluta 2001; Siwalete 2001; Tuhuteru 2001.

14

Ludeking 1868:48.

15

Peter 5:5; personal communication, Pattikawa 2001.

45

Personal communication, Patty 2001; Pattikawa 2001; Siwalete 2001.

16

Calvin 1579.

46

Personal communication, Siwalete 2001.

17

John, Book of Revelation 3:4.

47

Anderson 1967:120.

18

Hulsbosch 2008.

48

Anderson 1967:130.

van Baardewijk 1998:78.

49

Personal communication, Hukom 2001; Pattikawa 2001; Moerdijk-Malawauw 2001.

19

193

REFERENCES

50

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001; Moerdijk-Malawauw 2001.

12

51

Barthes 1983:126.

13

http://www.vlisco.com accessed 10th May, 2010.

52

Bartels,1989, 1994; de Graaf 1977; personal communication, Moerdijk-Malawauw 2001; Patty 2001; Tuhuteru 2001.

14

Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:44-49.

15

Personal communication Patty 2001; Patty 2001; Tupanwael 2001.

53

Hulsbosch 2008.

16

Personal communication Tupanwael 2001.

54

Foucault 1988, 1994.

17

55

Chauvel 1990:51.

Catenius-van der Meijden 1908; personal communication Jozef 2001; Tahamata 2001; Tuhuteru 2001; Tupanwael 2001.

56

Personal communication, Tuhuteru 2001; Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; Patty 2001.

18

Personal communication Leeman-Musila 2001; Patty 2001.

19

Gouda 1995, 1998; Elsbeth Locher-Scholten 2000; Plak 1993.

Chauvel 1990:35.

20

Stoler 1995:44.

58

Knight 2001:460; Wertheim 1991:369.

21

See Veblen 1954 (1899).

59

Bronkhorst and Wils, 1996:90.

22

Locher-Scholten 1996:125.

60

de Haan 1922: quoted in Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:84.

23

See Locher-Scholten 2000.

61

de Haan 1922: quoted in Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:85.

24

See Gouda 1995; Locher-Scholten 1996.

62

Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:88.

25

63

Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:88.

Catenius-van der Meijden 1904, 1908; Helsdingen-Schoevers 1914; Kloppenburg-Versteegh 1913; Rutten-Pekelharing 1927; Székely-Lulofs, nd.

57

Maxwell 1990:268; van Oss 1996.

64

Cooley 1962a:345.

26

Locher-Scholten 2000:98.

65

Personal communication, Pattikawa 2001.

27

66

Bartels 1994:253-258; Chauvel 1990:39-70; personal communication Patty 2001; Sijranamual 2001.

Archive Koloniale School Brochure 1923:9 fi le 77, cited in Locher-Scholten 2000:98.

28

Davis 1992:15.

67

Clerkx 1991; Székely-Lulofs n.d.

29

Veblen 1954 (1899):108.

Chapter 4 Mirroring Dress

30

Plak 1993:83.

31

Catenius-van der Meijden 1904. Catenius-van der Meijden 1908:73.

1

Frank 1991:62.

32

2

See Plak 1993; Locher-Scholten 2000.

33

Personal communication Pattiasina-Wenno 2001.

3

See Jansen 1939; Ludeking 1868; Sachse 1907; Riedel 1886:64.

34

Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:29.

4

van Hoëvell 1875:82.

35

Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:130.

5

See Mauss 1979:101.

36

Personal communication Seluta 2001; Siwalete 2001.

6

See Bartels 1989, 1994; Chauvel 1990.

37

See Plak 1993.

7

van Hoëvell 1875:88-89.

38

Grijns 1992; Locher-Scholten and Niehof 1992; Plak 1993.

8

Taylor 1997:110.

39

Personal communication van Vuuren 2001.

9

Historisch Overzicht 1930-31, I:54-55, cited in Chauvel 1990:31.

40

See Hulsbosch 2007.

10

Elliott 1984:114.

41

Locher-Scholten 2000:91-95.

11

Gittinger 1990:116 and 126.

42

Catenius-van der Meijden 1908:147.

43

See Hulsbosch 2007.

194

REFERENCES

44

Jansen 1939; Ludeking 1868; Martin 1894; Roelfsema 1917.

45

Roelfsema 1917:192.

46

See Hulsbosch 2007.

47

Personal communication Seluta 2001.

48

See Plak 1993.

49

Bartels 1994:249-253; Chauvel 1990:25-38.

50

Sachse 1907:74.

51

van Hoëvell 1875:80.

52

Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:102.

53

Personal communication Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; Patty 2001; Seluta 2001.

54

Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:100; personal communication Seluta 2001.

55

Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:102.

56

Personal communication Leeman-Musila 2001; Lesimanuaja-Amahoru 2001.

57

Bronkhorst and Wils 1996:110.

58

Locher-Scholten 2000:88-9.

59

See Hulsbosch 2007.

60

Riedel 1886:64.

61

Taylor 1997:114.

62

See Stoler 1995.

63

Catenius-van der Meijden 1908:146.

64

Catenius-van der Meijden 1908:148.

65

Székely-Lulofs nd:42.

66

Kloppenburg-Versteegh 1913:34, (her emphasis).

67

Catenius-van der Meijden 1908:88.

68

See Douglas 1973.

69

Personal communication Tupanwael 2001.

70

Locher-Scholten 2000:31.

Chapter 5 Communicative Dress 1

Frank 1991:80.

2

Personal communication Manuhuwa 1999; Pesulima 1999; Sahureka 1999.

3

Personal communication Pattikawa 2003; Munumete-Siahaya 2001; Muskitta 2003.

4

Foucault 1970:32-33.

5

Hulsbosch 2006b:3.

6

Boelens et al. 2001:155.

7

See Boelens, Fraassen, & Straver 2001; Hukom & Lilipaly-de Voogt 1985; Jansen 1939; Riedel 1886; Sachse 1907; van Hoëvell 1875.

8

Boelens et al. 2001:152-155.

9

Boelens et al. 2001:153.

10

See Cooley 1962a, 1962b; Valeri, 2000.

11

See Bartels 1994; Cooley 1962a.

12

Hulsbosch 2006b:4.

13

Bartels 1994:29; Cooley 1962a.

14

Sachse 1907:76.

15

Hukom & Lilipaly-de Voogt 1985:55; Sachse 1907:74.

16

Boelens et al. 2001:155.

17

Ludeking, 1868:63; personal communication Patty 2001.

18

Boelens et al. 2001:155; Ludeking 1868:81; Sachse 1907:74.

19

Sachse 1907:76.

20

Nieuhof 1682:216.

21

Valeri 2000:378.

22

Sachse 1907:111.

23

Valeri 2000:379.

24

Personal communication Lilipaly-de Voogt 2001; Patty 2001, Huwaé-Sabandar 2001; Jozef 2001; Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; Lesimanuaja-Amahoru 2001; Loupatty-Lessil 2001; Manuputty 2001. Hukom and Lilipaly-de Voogt 1985:56.

71

See Plak 1993.

72

See Bronkhorst and Wils 1996; Locher-Scholten 1996, 2000.

25

73

Catenius-van der Meijden 1908:147.

26

Boelens et al. 2001:155.

See Bronkhorst and Wils, 1996; Plak 1993.

27

van Fraassen 1983:5.

28

Hukom and Lilipaly-de Voogt 1985:132.

29

Hukom and Lilipaly-de Voogt 1985:129.

30

Hukom and Lilipaly-de Voogt 1985:131.

74

195

REFERENCES

31

Sachse 1907:76.

62

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001.

32

Boelens et al. 2001:150.

63

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001.

33

Sachse 1907:78.

64

Hulsbosch 2004:46.

34

See Roelfsema 1917; Valeri 2000.

65

Personal communication Seluta 2001.

35

Jansen 1939:334.

66

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001; Munumete-Siahaya 2001.

36

See Taylor 1983.

67

Personal communication Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; Tuhuteru 2001.

37

Jansen 1939:334.

68

Personal communication Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; Malawauw-Saija 2001; Siwalete 2001.

38

Synnott 1993:46.

39

Genesis 3:21-22.

69

Personal communication Patty 2001; Siwalete 2001; Tupanwael 2001.

40

Riedel 1886:42.

70

Cooley 1962b:1.

41

Eicher, Evenson, and Lutz 2000:45.

71

Bartels 1994:333-334.

42

Personal communication Seluta 2001.

72

Personal communication, van Bommel-Pattisahusiwa 2001.

43

Riedel 1886:39.

73

Cooley 1962b:1.

44

Personal communication Loupatty-Lessil 2001; Patty 2001; Sahusilawane 2001.

74

See Bartels 1994; Cooley 1962b.

75

Riedel 1886:69.

45

Hukom and Lilipaly-de Voogt 1985:131.

76

van Hoëvell 1875:129.

46

Sachse 1907:77.

77

Bartels 1994:337.

47

Sachse 1907:78.

78

Personal communication Pattikawa 2001.

48

Hulsbosch 2004:43.

79

Genesis 24:2-66.

49

Personal communication Seluta 2001.

80

Personal communication Loupatty-Lessil 2001; Pattiasina-Wenno 2001.

50

See Anderson Black and Garland 1980; Ewing 1971; Kohler 1963; Kybalova, Herbenova and Lamarova 1968; Laver 1986; Turner-Wilcox 1958.

81

Personal communication Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; personal communication Manahutu 2001; Sijranamual, 2001; Tahija 2001.

51

Personal communication Uneputty 2001.

82

Heeringa 1964:77-78; see Cooley 1962a, 1962b.

52

van Hoëvell 1875:84.

83

Cooley 1962b:21.

53

See Anderson Black and Garland 1980; Ewing 1971; Kohler 1963; Kybalova, Herbenova and Lamarova 1968; Laver 1986; Turner-Wilcox 1958.

84

Riedel 1886:69-70.

85

Bartels 1989:111.

54

Turner-Wilcox 1958:109.

86

Cooley 1962b:21.

55

Ruby 1996:4.

87

Riedel, 1886:52; personal communication Patty 2001; Seluta 2001.

56

Riedel 1886:83.

88

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001; Seluta 2001.

57

Hulsbosch 2004:44.

89

58

Riedel 1886:83.

Personal communication Lesimanuaja-Amahoru 2001; Pattiasina-Wenno 2001.

59

Valentijn 1724-26:2.1.154a.

90

Riedel 1886:67-68; see Cooley 1962a.

60

See van Hoëvell 1875; personal communication Matitaputty 2001; Patty 2001; Seluta 2001; Uneputty 2001.

91

See Bartels 1989 Cooley 1962a, 1962b and Heeringa 1964.

92

Cooley 1962b:47.

61

Personal communication Uneputty 2001.

93

See Cooley 1962a, 1962b.

19 6

REFERENCES

94

Cooley 1962b:26-41.

95

See Cooley 1962b; van Hoëvell 1875.

96

124

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001; Munumete-Siahaya 2001; Seluta 2001.

See Bartels 1989, 1994.

125

van Hoëvell, 1875:34.

97

See Gittinger 1990, 1989; Maxwell 1990.

126

Personal communication Patty 2001; Siwalete 2001; Tupanwael 2001.

98

Schefold 1988:37.

127

See Kybalova et al. 1968; personal communication, Seluta 2001.

99

See Bartels 1989, 1994; Cooley 1962a, 1962b; Riedel 1886; van Hoëvell 1875.

128

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001; Munumete-Siahaya 2001.

129

Valentijn 1724:26.

100

Cooley 1962b:28.

130

Hulsbosch 2009:179.

101

Personal communication Siwalete 2001.

131

Personal communication, Matitaputty 2001; Seluta 2001; Siwalete 2001.

102

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001.

132

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001; Seluta 2001; Siwalete 2001.

103

See Cooley 1962a, 1962b and van Hoëvell 1875.

133

Hulsbosch 2006a:9.

104

Cooley 1962a; 1962b:45.

134

Bourdieu 1984:77.

105

See Bartels 1994; Cooley 1962a, 1962b; Riedel 1886; van Hoëvell 1875.

135

Hulsbosch 2006b:6.

106

Bartels 1994:340; Cooley 1962a; 1962b:45.

136

van Hoëvell 1875:133.

107

Riedel 1886:68; van Hoëvell 1875:87.

137

van Hoëvell 1875:127.

108

See Bartels 1989; personal communication Matitaputty 2001; Munumete-Siahaya 2001.

138

Riedel 1886:42.

139

Sachse 1907:108.

109

Cooley 1962b:47.

140

Personal communication Uneputty 2001.

110

Riedel 1886:69.

141

Personal communication Ririn 2001; Sadino-Pelupessy 2001

111

Bartels 1994:322-353; Cooley 1962:20-55; personal communication Seluta 2001.

142

See Riedel 1886; Sachse 1907; van Hoëvell 1875.

143

See Flugel 1930.

112

Bartels 1994:341; personal communication Seluta 2001.

113

Riedel 1886:83; Valentijn 1724-26:2.1.154a.

Epilogue

114

Personal communication, Siwalete 2001.

1

115

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001; Munumete-Siahaya 2001; Siwalete 2001.

Personal communication Evers-Claes 1999; Evers-Verspaget 2000; Veeringa 1999.

2

Personal communication Uneputty 2001.

116

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001.

3

Personal communication Veeringa 1999.

117

van Hoëvell 1875:87.

4

Lautuharhary 1931:29, quoted in Chauvel 1990:33.

118

Personal communication Munumete-Siahaya 2001.

5

119

Personal communication Matitaputty 2001.

Personal communication Manahutu 2001; Matitaputty 2001; Munumete-Siahaya 2001.

120

Personal communication Pattikawa 2001.

6

Personal communication Matiatputty 2001; Munumete-Siahaya 2001.

121

See Cooley 1962b.

7

122

See Bartels 1994; Cooley 1962a, 1962b; Riedel 1886; Sachse 1907; van Hoëvell 1875.

Personal communication Latuheru-Pelasula 2001; Patty 2001; Sijranamual 2001.

8

123

Personal communication Tuhuteru 2001.

Personal communication Matiatputty 2001; Pattikawa 2001; Patty 2001; Tuhuteru 2001.

9

Personal communication Hukom 2003; Manahuwa 1999; Muskitta 2003; Pesulima 1999.

197

Image References

I M AGE R EFER ENCES

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image References Cover Image

Image code

Pattinaja siblings, Ambon, 1918

Image

0.06 Alifuru man, Seti, Central Ceram, 1938

KITLV In: Jensen, Adolf E. and H. Niggemeyer, (1939) Hainuwele: Volkserzählungen von der MolukkenInsel Ceram Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann

0.07 Alifuru woman, Ahiolo, Ceram, 1938

KITLV In: Jensen, Adolf E. and H. Niggemeyer, (1939) Hainuwele: Volkserzählungen von der MolukkenInsel Ceram Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann

0.08 Alifuru man, Melilia, Ceram, 1938

KITLV In: Jensen, Adolf E. and H. Niggemeyer, (1939) Hainuwele: Volkserzählungen von der MolukkenInsel Ceram Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann

0.09 Alifuru woman, Waraloin, West Ceram, 1938

KITLV In: Jensen, Adolf E. and H. Niggemeyer, (1939) Hainuwele: Volkserzählungen von der MolukkenInsel Ceram Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann

0.10 Alifuru man, Waraloin, Ceram, 1938

KITLV In: Jensen, Adolf E. and H. Niggemeyer, (1939) Hainuwele: Volkserzählungen von der MolukkenInsel Ceram Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann

Dedication Image

Image code

Provenance Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Catharina Juliana Evers-Smith, Banjarmasin, 1947

Prologue Image

Image code

Provenance

0.01 Alifuru man, West Ceram, 1910

28592

KITLV

0.02 Alifuru man, Buria, West Ceram, 1938

KITLV In: Jensen, Adolf E. and H. Niggemeyer, (1939) Hainuwele: Volkserzählungen von der MolukkenInsel Ceram Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann

0.03 Alifuru woman, Waraloin, Ceram, 1938

KITLV In: Jensen, Adolf E. and H. Niggemeyer, (1939) Hainuwele: Volkserzählungen von der MolukkenInsel Ceram Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann

0.04 Alifuru man, Ahiolo, West Ceram, 1938

KITLV In: Jensen, Adolf E. and H. Niggemeyer, (1939) Hainuwele: Volkserzählungen von der MolukkenInsel Ceram Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann

20 0

Provenance KITLV In: Jensen, Adolf E. and H. Niggemeyer, (1939) Hainuwele: Volkserzählungen von der MolukkenInsel Ceram Frankfurt am Main: Klostermann

Provenance Private collection Mrs Ada Lilipaly – de Voogt

Image code

0.05 Alifuru children, Ceram, 1938

Diagrams Diagram 1

Typology of Body Use in Action (Frank 1991)

Diagram 2

Dress typology

IMAGE REFERENCES

Chapter 1 Ambonese Society Under Colonial Rule

Image

Image

Image code

Provenance

1.01 Alifuru Headhunter, Ceram, 1880

12114

KITLV

1.12 Portuguese fort, Ambon, 1724

1.02 Alifuru Woman, Ceram, 1880

12116

KITLV

1.03 Georg Everhard Rumphius, 1628-1702

503265

KITLV

1.04 Alifuru Man, West Ceram, 1890

4875

KITLV

KITLV In: Valentyn, François (17241726) 'Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën, vervattende een naaukeurige en uitvoerige verhandelinge van Nederlands mogentheyd in die gewesten, benevens een wydlustige beschrijvinge der Moluccos, Amboina, Banda, Timor, en Solor, Java en alle de eylanden onder dezelve landbestieringen behoorende: het Nederlands comptoir op Suratte, en de levens der groote Mogols; als ook een keurlyke verhandeling van 't wezenlykste det men behoort te weten van Choromandel, Pegu, Arracan, Bengale, Mocha, Persien, Malacca, Sumatra, Ceylon, Malabar, Celebes of Macassar, China, Japan, Tayouan of Formosa, Tonkin, Cambodja, Siam, Borneo, Bali, Kaap de Goede Hoop en van Mauritius... / Dordrecht: Joannes van braam; Amsterdam: Gerard onder den Linden

1.13 Ambon, 1880

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

1.14 Francois Xavier, 1506-1553

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

1.05 Nutmeg and mace 1.06 Cloves 1.07 Map Pierre Descaliers, 1550

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

1.08 Map Diogo Homem, 1558

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

1.09 Vasco da Gama, 1469-1524

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

1.10 Ambon Bay, 1919 1.11 Portuguese Carrack (boat), 16th C

33666

KITLV

Image code

Provenance

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

201

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Image code

Provenance

Image

KITLV In: Valentyn, François (17241726) 'Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën, vervattende een naaukeurige en uitvoerige verhandelinge van Nederlands mogentheyd in die gewesten, benevens een wydlustige beschrijvinge der Moluccos, Amboina, Banda, Timor, en Solor, Java en alle de eylanden onder dezelve landbestieringen behoorende: het Nederlands comptoir op Suratte, en de levens der groote Mogols; als ook een keurlyke verhandeling van 't wezenlykste det men behoort te weten van Choromandel, Pegu, Arracan, Bengale, Mocha, Persien, Malacca, Sumatra, Ceylon, Malabar, Celebes of Macassar, China, Japan, Tayouan of Formosa, Tonkin, Cambodja, Siam, Borneo, Bali, Kaap de Goede Hoop en van Mauritius... / Dordrecht: Joannes van braam; Amsterdam: Gerard onder den Linden, illustration (top only)

1.22 New Dutch Church, Ambon, 1724

KITLV In: Valentyn, François (17241726) 'Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën, vervattende een naaukeurige en uitvoerige verhandelinge van Nederlands mogentheyd in die gewesten, benevens een wydlustige beschrijvinge der Moluccos, Amboina, Banda, Timor, en Solor, Java en alle de eylanden onder dezelve landbestieringen behoorende: het Nederlands comptoir op Suratte, en de levens der groote Mogols; als ook een keurlyke verhandeling van 't wezenlykste det men behoort te weten van Choromandel, Pegu, Arracan, Bengale, Mocha, Persien, Malacca, Sumatra, Ceylon, Malabar, Celebes of Macassar, China, Japan, Tayouan of Formosa, Tonkin, Cambodja, Siam, Borneo, Bali, Kaap de Goede Hoop en van Mauritius... / Dordrecht: Joannes van braam; Amsterdam: Gerard onder den Linden, vol 2, illustration XXXVIII

KITLV

1.23 Portuguese fort, Ambon, n/d

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

1.17 VOC carving

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

1.24 Christian school, Ambon, 1925

10521

KITLV

1.18 VOC logo

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

1.25 Teacher and students in local school, Ambon, 1900

10705

KITLV

1.15 Buginese and Ambonese warriors, 1724

1.16 Ship in Ambon Bay, 1900

10702

1.19 Jan PietersZoon Coen, 1720

37C169

1.20 Dutch siege of Ambon, 1600

drawing

1.21 Ambon map, n/d

KITLV Private collection M. Hulsbosch This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

Provenance

1.26 Native Missionary assistants on Buru Island, n/d

Private collection M. Hulsbosch, inscription: Utrechtsche Zendelingvereniging. Inlandsche helpers op het Eiland Boeroe

1.27 City of Ambon crest

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

1.28 KNIL Statue, front and back

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

1.29 Eurasian family, 1915

202

Image code

13342

KITLV

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Image code

1.30 China town, Ambon, 1919

Provenance

Image

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.06 Ambon market, 1724

1.31 China quarters, Ambon, 1919

33672

KITLV

1.32 Teaching staff of the Hollands Inlandse School, Ambon, 1919

33687

KITLV

1.33 Alexander Jacob Patty, leader of ‘Sarekat Ambon’ party, Ambon, 1920

16459

KITLV

1.34 RMS logos

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

1.35 City of Ambon crest

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

1.36 RMS jacket, 2000

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

1.37 RMS car sticker

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

1.38 Maluku mass grave, 2000

Private collection M. Hulsbosch 2.07 Street in Amboina, 1830

Chapter 2 Disciplined Dress Image

Image code

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.01 Ambonese women in festive dress 2.02 Ambonese women in Batavia, 1870

Provenance

30514

KITLV

2.03 An Amboine, 1687

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright; attributed to Sylvester Brounowwer

2.04 Passar Street, Ambon, 1880

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.05 Ambonese fi sh market, 1880

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Image code

Provenance KITLV In: Valentyn, François (17241726) 'Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën, vervattende een naaukeurige en uitvoerige verhandelinge van Nederlands mogentheyd in die gewesten, benevens een wydlustige beschrijvinge der Moluccos, Amboina, Banda, Timor, en Solor, Java en alle de eylanden onder dezelve landbestieringen behoorende: het Nederlands comptoir op Suratte, en de levens der groote Mogols; als ook een keurlyke verhandeling van 't wezenlykste det men behoort te weten van Choromandel, Pegu, Arracan, Bengale, Mocha, Persien, Malacca, Sumatra, Ceylon, Malabar, Celebes of Macassar, China, Japan, Tayouan of Formosa, Tonkin, Cambodja, Siam, Borneo, Bali, Kaap de Goede Hoop en van Mauritius... / Dordrecht: Joannes van braam; Amsterdam: Gerard onder den Linden, vol 2, illustration XXXVII

51G9

KITLV, in: Ver Huell, Quirijn Maurits Rudolf (1830) Straat in de stad Amboina. Kleeding der inwoners Aquarelle

2.08 European man in Spanish breeches, 17th C

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.09 European man with neck ruffl e, 17th C

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.10 Mrs and Mr Spekschot, Principal of the ‘Eerste School’ in Ambon, 1896

KITLV

2.11 VOC logo 2.12 Ambonese Hajjis, 1887

2757

Private collection M. Hulsbosch KITLV

203

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Image code

Provenance

Image

2.13 Karsang Kartow (trousers)

90742

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.21 White Baniang (jacket)

2.14 Baju Célah

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.15 Ambonese market, 1900

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.22 Georg Everhard Rumphius (1672-1702)

2.16 Ambonese male in white baju célah (short T top) and black karsang kartow (drawstring pants)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.17 Ambonese in white Baniang, n/d

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.18 Ambonese in chequered Kain, n/d

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.19 Turbo Petholata shell, 1724

KITLV In: Valentyn, François (17241726) 'Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën, vervattende een naaukeurige en uitvoerige verhandelinge van Nederlands mogentheyd in die gewesten, benevens een wydlustige beschrijvinge der Moluccos, Amboina, Banda, Timor, en Solor, Java en alle de eylanden onder dezelve landbestieringen behoorende: het Nederlands comptoir op Suratte, en de levens der groote Mogols; als ook een keurlyke verhandeling van 't wezenlykste det men behoort te weten van Choromandel, Pegu, Arracan, Bengale, Mocha, Persien, Malacca, Sumatra, Ceylon, Malabar, Celebes of Macassar, China, Japan, Tayouan of Formosa, Tonkin, Cambodja, Siam, Borneo, Bali, Kaap de Goede Hoop en van Mauritius... / Dordrecht: Joannes van braam; Amsterdam: Gerard onder den Linden, vol 3 part 2, pp 517-586

2.20 Black Kebaya

20 4

Provenance Private collection M. Hulsbosch

503265

KITLV

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.23 Mata Bulan 2.24 Ambonese wearing white Baniang (jackets), 1900

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Image code

1401190

KITLV; inscription: Utrechtsche Zendingvereeniging. Kweekelingen van Zendeling Storm op het Eiland Boeroe

2.25 Muslim man wearing white Kelsan Patah Lutu tousers

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.26 Muslim man wearing chequered Kain

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.27 Muslim man with white skull cap

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.28 Hajjis in various dress, Maluku, 1890

90579

KITLV

2.29 Nona Passar with water jug, 1900

10581

KITLV

2.30 Tolk family maid peeling potatoes, Ambon, 1914

4449

KITLV

2.31 Nona Kebaya, 1900

10565

KITLV

2.32 Nona Duduk Rumah with unadorned Kondéh (hair bun)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.33 Nona Duduk Rumah with a Jasmine Bunga Ron (wreath) around her Kondéh

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Provenance

Image

2.34 Nona Duduk Rumah

Image code

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.35 Patola cloth

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.46 Kaos slippers with blunt upturned noses

2.36 Woven baskets

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.37 Jasmine fl owers

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.47 Three Nyonya Kaos in white Kebaya Panjang, 1900

2.38 Nona Kebaya with a Kondéh Falungku (fi st-shaped bun)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.48 Friar Galvão, 1739-1822

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

2.39 Nona Cenela wearing white Kebaja Panjang (long kebaya) with leg-of-mutton sleeves and long narrow cuffs, n/d

1407175

2.40 Ambonese woman in a black Kebaya Cita (kebaya of glazed cotton), 1868

85047

KITLV

2.49 Nona Rok in white with attendant, 1830

2.41 Peniti (linked Kebaya clips) and Korkuping hair pins

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.42 Sisir (combs)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.43 Nona Cenela, single (hair pins to the left) and married (hair pins to the right)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.44 Lace Lenso kerchief and Payung (sunshade)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.45 Cenela slippers with pointy, upturned noses

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

51G9, detail

Provenance

KITLV, in: Ver Huell, Quirijn Maurits Rudolf (1830) Straat in de stad Amboina. Kleeding der inwoners Aquarelle Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.50 Rok pleating details 2.51 Nona Militair in Kebaya Rendah, 1939

KITLV

Image code

9103, detail

KITLV

2.52 Pinggang mas (gold belt) and buckle

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.53 Nona Militair with plain, unadorned hairdo

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.54 Nona Militair with adorned hairdo

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.55 Embroidery on Muslim prayer dress showing mosque

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.56 Ambonese woman in Muslim in prayer dress

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

205

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Image code

Provenance

Image

Image code

Provenance

2.57 The Mosque in Ambon, 1724

37C17

KITLV In: Valentyn, François (17241726) ‘Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën, vervattende een naaukeurige en uitvoerige verhandelinge van Nederlands mogentheyd in die gewesten, benevens een wydlustige beschrijvinge der Moluccos, Amboina, Banda, Timor, en Solor, Java en alle de eylanden onder dezelve landbestieringen behoorende: het Nederlands comptoir op Suratte, en de levens der groote Mogols; als ook een keurlyke verhandeling van ‘t wezenlykste det men behoort te weten van Choromandel, Pegu, Arracan, Bengale, Mocha, Persien, Malacca, Sumatra, Ceylon, Malabar, Celebes of Macassar, China, Japan, Tayouan of Formosa, Tonkin, Cambodja, Siam, Borneo, Bali, Kaap de Goede Hoop en van Mauritius... / Dordrecht: Joannes van braam; Amsterdam: Gerard onder den Linden, vol 2, illustration XXXIV

3.02 Fort ‘Duurstede” Saparua Island, 1846

50R2

KITLV In: van de Velde, C.W.M. (1846) Gezigten uit Neèrlands Indië / naar de natuur getekeekend en beschreven door C.W.M. van de Velde Amsterdam: Buffa illustration XXXVI "Het fort Duurstede te Saparoea / Le fort Duurstede a Saparoea

2.58 Multicoloured sarong worn by Muslim Ambonese women

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

2.59 Melatti (jasmine) fl owers

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Chapter 3 Dominating Dress Image 3.01 Nona Kebaya dressed for Church, n/d

20 6

Image code

Provenance Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.03 Franciscus Xaverius, 1506-1553

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

3.04 Woven baskets

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

3.05 Alifuru woman, West Ceram, 1910

3553

KITLV

3.06 Alifuru woman, Ceram, 1880

12118

KITLV

3.07 Alifuru women ready for dancing, Ceram, 1910

29640

KITLV

3.08 Alifuru men ready to dance, Ceram, 1910

29641

KITLV

3.09 Alifuru girl, Ceram, 1880

12119

KITLV

3.10 Alifuru, Hoekoe Anakota, WestCeram, 1925

28531

KITLV

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Image code

Provenance

Image

Image code

Provenance

3.11 New Dutch Church, Ambon, 1724

37C173

KITLV In: Valentyn, François (17241726) 'Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën, vervattende een naaukeurige en uitvoerige verhandelinge van Nederlands mogentheyd in die gewesten, benevens een wydlustige beschrijvinge der Moluccos, Amboina, Banda, Timor, en Solor, Java en alle de eylanden onder dezelve landbestieringen behoorende: het Nederlands comptoir op Suratte, en de levens der groote Mogols; als ook een keurlyke verhandeling van 't wezenlykste det men behoort te weten van Choromandel, Pegu, Arracan, Bengale, Mocha, Persien, Malacca, Sumatra, Ceylon, Malabar, Celebes of Macassar, China, Japan, Tayouan of Formosa, Tonkin, Cambodja, Siam, Borneo, Bali, Kaap de Goede Hoop en van Mauritius... / Dordrecht: Joannes van braam; Amsterdam: Gerard onder den Linden, vol 2, illustration XXXIX

3.18 Woman in black dress with white Lenso Pinggang (lace kerchief) draped over hip, 1830

51G9, detail.

KITLV In: Ver Huell, Quirijn Maurits Rudolf (1830) Straat in de stad Amboina. Kleeding der inwoners Aquarelle

3.19 Men leaving church, Ambon, 1925

10518

KITLV

3.12 Nona Cenela dressed for church, 1923

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.13 Native Missionary assistants on Buru Island, n/d

Private collection M. Hulsbosch, inscription: Utrechtsche Zendelingvereniging. Inlandsche helpers op het Eiland Boeroe

3.14 Village church scene

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.15 The Regent of Allang, 1900

3887

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

3.16 John Calvin, 1509-1564 3.17 Man in white Baju Boorci (top with upstanding collar) and black Kebaya, 1900

KITLV

3887, detail

KITLV

3.20 White and black Baju Boorci with upstanding collar

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.21 Women leaving church, Ambon, 1925

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.22 Portuguese woman, 17th C

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.23 Nona Cenela on her way to church with her Lenso Pinggang, n/d

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.24 Ambonese Sidi group at bible studies dressed in black Baju of varying lengths, 1910

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.25 Hymn book published by the VOC in Bahasa Indonesia, 1735

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

3.26 Title page of the Bible in Bahasa Indonesia published by the VOC, 1735

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

3.27 Nona Rok in black pleated Rok (skirt) and baju hitam, 1870

155852

KITLV

207

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Provenance

Image

3.28 Ambonese Sidi group at their confi rmation splendidly dressed in their black outfits with women in long Kebaya Panjangs, showing their elaborately embroidered Kain Pikuls and white crocheted Sapu Tangan (bible covers). Men wear their white Baniang shirts and black Kebaya jackets. All are barefoot, 1910.

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.34 Two sisters, Nona Kaos celebrating Sidi (Confi rmation) wearing long Baju, elaborately beaded black Mustisa (collar) draped over their shoulders with matching Mansets around their wrists. White Tali Kains draped over their right hips and white lace Sapu Tangang cloths to cover their bibles, Ambon, 1923

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.29 Men in Western frock coats, Buru Island, n/d

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.35 Beaded Mansets (cuffs)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.36 Beaded Mustisa (yoke) showing a ‘Garuda’ bird design

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.30 Men in Western black jackets, white trousers and vests, 1935 3.31 Various beaded Kain Pikul (sashes)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.32 Nona Sidi wearing her Kain Pikul (sash)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.33 Cavalier wearing a leather bandolier (sash) across his chest and back, 17th C

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

20 8

Image code

Image code

Provenance

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Image code

3.37 Three women ready for church: Non Cenela on the right wears a short Baju with a Mustisa (collar) over her shoulders, a white Tali Kain draped over her left hip with her hair swept up in a Kondéh Falungku (fi st-shaped bun). The woman in the centre wears a long Kebaya Cita (glazed black fabric), white stockings, Cenela and, a Payung (sun shade). Nona Duduk Rumah on the left wears a short Baju (top) and a Kain Pikul (sash) over her left shoulder. All women hold a bible and white Lenso Pinggang (kerchief), Ambon, n/d 3.38 Newly confi rmed members of the Moluccan Protestant Church. The practice of wearing black changed in the late 1930s when men and women began to wear Western dress to church, Ambon, 1940

9106

3.39 Barefoot Ambonese KNIL soldier, 1870

30542

Provenance

Image

Image code

Provenance

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.40 Indigenous warriors, Ambon, 1724

37C171

KITLV In: Valentyn, François (17241726) 'Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën, vervattende een naaukeurige en uitvoerige verhandelinge van Nederlands mogentheyd in die gewesten, benevens een wydlustige beschrijvinge der Moluccos, Amboina, Banda, Timor, en Solor, Java en alle de eylanden onder dezelve landbestieringen behoorende: het Nederlands comptoir op Suratte, en de levens der groote Mogols; als ook een keurlyke verhandeling van 't wezenlykste det men behoort te weten van Choromandel, Pegu, Arracan, Bengale, Mocha, Persien, Malacca, Sumatra, Ceylon, Malabar, Celebes of Macassar, China, Japan, Tayouan of Formosa, Tonkin, Cambodja, Siam, Borneo, Bali, Kaap de Goede Hoop en van Mauritius... / Dordrecht: Joannes van braam; Amsterdam: Gerard onder den Linden; illustration IV (top part)

KITLV

3.41 Ambonese KNIL soldiers, various images and recruitment poster, 20th C

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.42 KNIL soldiers, Ambon, 1874

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.43 KNIL recruitment poster and ‘carte de visite’, n/d

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

3.44 Jan Evers (father of the author) KNIL soldier, 1937

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

KITLV

20 9

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Image code

Provenance

Image

3.45 Dr Scharenberg, chief medical offi cer and guests in white Jas Tutup, Ambon, 1906

26841 26843 26845

KITLV

4.04 Two Western men wearing casual ‘house dress’ inspired by ethnic dress, Ambon, 1929

KITLV

3.46 Governor General J.P. van Limburg Stirum visits Ambon, 1919

33659

KITLV

4.05 VLISCO imitation batik material, Helmond, 1920

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

3.47 Jas Tutup GERZON Den Haag mail order advertisement, 1932

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

4.06 Western man in ‘slaapbroek’, Ambon, 1920

KITLV

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

4.07 Dutch man in batik ‘slaapbroek’, 1904

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

3.48 Shoes GERZON Den Haag mail order advertisement, 1920 3.49 Collars GERZON Den Haag mail order advertisement, 1908

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

4.08 VLISCO imitation batik material; contemporary design based on the Javanese Kemben wrap, Helmond, 2010

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

4.09 Western women in sarong and kebaya, n/d

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Chapter 4 Mirroring Dress Image

Image code

Provenance

Image code

Provenance

4.01 Mr and Mrs Nikijuluw-Hiariej, Ambon, 1939

KITLV

4.10 ‘Kabaya’ De Bijenkorf advertisement, 1910

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

4.02 Ethnic men wearing various Western dress ensembles, 1907

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

4.11 Mrs Tolk in sarong kebaya with her cook, Ambon, 1914

KITLV

4.03 Mr Max Bajetto KNIL lieutenantcolonel and his family, all in western dress, Ambon, 1923

KITLV

4.12 Mrs Tolk in dressing gown ready to bathe, Ambon, 1914

KITLV

210

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Provenance

Image

4.13 Mrs Tolk in the living room of her house in Ambon, 1914

Image code

KITLV

4.23 Duyverman family with domestic staff in Ambon, 1930

Image code

Provenance KITLV

4.14 Interior of Tolk family home, Ambon, 1914

KITLV

4.24 Sewing machines, 1880

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

4.15 Totok family, Mr van Meurs dressed in Jas Tutup and Mrs van Meurs and child dressed in western clothing, Ambon, 1929

KITLV

4.25 Jahit (seamstress), 1909

KITLV In: de Bussy, J.H. (1909) 'Indisch prentenboek: bedienden en beroepen'. Amsterdam: J. van der Heijden, vol 1, illustration 3

4.26 Jantje Tolk on his way to school, Ambon, 1914

KITLV

4.16 Madame Catenius v/d Meijden, 1913

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

4.27 Totok children in sailor suits, 1905

KITLV KITLV

4.17 Tropical equipment, De Bijenkorf department store 2nd fl oor, The Hague, 1930

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

4.28 Girl in Celana Monyet, 1900 4.29 Duyvermann boys in Schiller shirts, Ambon, 1928

KITLV

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

4.30 Totok children in Western dress, 1920

KITLV

4.18 Various mail order brochures, n/d

KITLV

4.31 Totok children in Western dress, 1905

KITLV

4.19 Ms Dolly van Kempen, Ambon, 1929

KITLV

4.20 Mrs HoogeveenDorren sporting Jazzera fashion and short bobbed hairstyle, Ambon, 1929

KITLV

4.32 Jantje & Abby Tolk in celana monyet, Ambon, 1918 4.33 Two babus (nannies) washing a totok child, 1915

KITLV

4.21 Totok family, Ambon, 1929

KITLV

4.34 ‘Banting’ washing clothes, 1900

KITLV, Kolff & Co., G. / Batavia, postcard

4.22 Mrs Ting van Nieuwenhuizen in tennis outfit, Ambon, 1929

KITLV

4.35 Mrs KlopppenburgVersteegh, 1925

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

4.36 Mrs KlopppenburgVersteegh with her children, 1899

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

211

IMAGE REFERENCES

Chapter 5 Communicative Dress

Image

Image code

Provenance

Image

5.06 Alifuru warrior sporting a magnifi cent bird of paradise feather in his headdress holding an intricately decorated Salawaku shield, Ceram, 1937

83839

KITLV

5.07 Alifuru chiefs with their headhunting trophies, Ceram, 1890

4879

KITLV

5.08 Alifuru hunters, West Ceram, 1937

3555

KITLV

5.09 Alifuru hunters, West Ceram, 1937

3556

KITLV

5.10 Alifuru hunters dressed in tightly wrapped Cidako, West Ceram, 1937

3557

KITLV

5.11 Alifuru man in full warrior regalia holding a Salawaku shield, West Ceram, 1937

3562

KITLV

5.12 Salawaku shield, Ceram, prior 1963

KIT 32503

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright; provenance of the Tropen Museum of the Royal Tropical Institute Amsterdam (KIT)

5.13 Paperbark Cidako Babungga, 1926

KIT 31954a And KIT 488-2

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright; provenance of the Tropen Museum of the Royal Tropical Institute Amsterdam (KIT)

Image code

Provenance

5.01 Front and back view of Ambonese Ciolé (undergarment)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.02 Alifuru children, Ceram, 1890

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.03 Alifuru men, Ceram 1890

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.04 Alifuru tattoo designs

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

5.05 Maluku warriors, Manipa Island, 1724

KITLV In: Valentyn, François (17241726) 'Oud en nieuw Oost-Indiën, vervattende een naaukeurige en uitvoerige verhandelinge van Nederlands mogentheyd in die gewesten, benevens een wydlustige beschrijvinge der Moluccos, Amboina, Banda, Timor, en Solor, Java en alle de eylanden onder dezelve landbestieringen behoorende: het Nederlands comptoir op Suratte, en de levens der groote Mogols; als ook een keurlyke verhandeling van 't wezenlykste det men behoort te weten van Choromandel, Pegu, Arracan, Bengale, Mocha, Persien, Malacca, Sumatra, Ceylon, Malabar, Celebes of Macassar, China, Japan, Tayouan of Formosa, Tonkin, Cambodja, Siam, Borneo, Bali, Kaap de Goede Hoop en van Mauritius... / Dordrecht: Joannes van braam; Amsterdam: Gerard onder den Linden; illustration VI (lower part)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.14 Paperbark beating 5.15 Cidako Babungga designs, West Ceram, 1925

212

27911

KITLV

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Provenance

Image

5.16 Menstruation hut, Maluku

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.17 Various cidako motifs, Ceram, n/d

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.24 Married Alifuru women wearing Harene girdles, Ceram, n/d

5.18 Cidako Babungga designs, West Ceram, 1925

Image code

27911

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.19 Various circular Oiale motifs, Ceram, n/d 5.20 Cidako babungga, West Ceram, 1925

27911

5.21 Harene girdle for unmarried woman

KIT 1468173b

5.22 Alifuru girl, West Ceram, 1910 5.23 Raja of Ahiolo with his two wives and stepdaughter. He wears a bark cloth cidako and tightly drawn hipwrap. His hair is covered with a red kain berang fastened over a coconut shell; strings of beads are worn crosswise over his chest. His two wives wear a bark cloth hipwrap and the daughter wears a harene. All three women wear headbands decorated with fl owers and bone bracelets and rings. Ceram 1904

KITLV

3553

KITLV

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright; provenance of the Tropen Museum of the Royal Tropical Institute Amsterdam (KIT) KITLV Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Image code

Provenance Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.25 Wife of Raja Honitetoe, West Ceram, 1904

3554

KITLV

5.26 Alifuru, West Ceram, 1910

28533

KITLV

5.27 Raja Honitetoe, West Ceram, 1904

3554

KITLV

5.28 Alifuru women, West Ceram, 1937

3558

5.29 Alifuru men with tightly drawn waists, 1904

3560

KITLV

5.30 Alifuru, Buru Ceram, 1904

4878

KITLV

5.31 Plaited bamboo strap designs

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.32 Ciolé short sleeve under slip

Private collection M. Hulsbosch; after Lilipaly de Voogt

5.33 Kutang sleeveless corselet

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.34 Pantaloons

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.35 Embroidery motifs for Ciolé and Kutang

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.36 Woman embroidering cloth in Batu Merah, Ambon, 1910

27912

KITLV

5.37 Bridal couple, Ambon, 1935

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.38 Bridal couple, Ambon, 1935

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

213

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Image code

Provenance

Image

5.39 Bridal couple, Ambon, 1903

82692

KITLV

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.40 Bridal couple, Ambon, 1890

12105

KITLV

5.56 Bride with black Gigi Anjing (ric-rac ribbon) and Anak ‘J’ (J curved hair lock)

Image code

Provenance

5.57 Tikam Croonci (bridal crowning pin)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.58 Nona Rok bride (8 Korkuping (hair pins) and 11 Bunga Goyang pins (quivering hair pins) with the 12th pin, the Tikam Croonci (bridal crowning pin), placed at the nape of the neck

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.59 Bridal Sisir (comb), shaped like an upturned Arumbai (boat)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.41 Patola double ikat trade cloth originating from the Gujarat region, India, n/d

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

5.42 Kain berkiat wrapping, n/d

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.43 Bridal fan

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.44 Kain Uti-uti (fertility cloth)

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

5.45 Bunga Goyang, quivering hair pins

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.46 Various baskets

This fi le is licensed under the Creative Commons licence and is free of copyright

5.47 Cenela slippers

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.48 Mustisa, bridal collar

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Epilogue

5.49 Sarong folded in box pleat bridal style

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Image

Image code

Provenance

5.50 Black velvet mansets (bridal cuffs)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

6.01 Christian women in white, Ambon, 1900

10703

KITLV

5.51 Bride with hairdresser

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

6.02 Warrou harbour, Ceram, 1841

37C82

5.52 Sisir (comb)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.53 Gigi Anjing (forehead jewellery)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

5.54 Bridal Ciolé (underwear)

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

KITLV In: Dumond d’Urville J. (1841), Voyage au Pôle Sud et dans l’Oceanie sur les corvettes “L’Astrolabe” et “La Zélée”, exécuté pendant les anées 1837-1840 sous le commandement de J. Dumond d’Urville: Atlas Pittorresque pubicité sous la direction de Jacquinot. Paris: Gide, illustration 127

5.55 Bunga Goyang, quivering hair pin

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

214

6.03 Maluku princess, Ambon, 1867

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

IMAGE REFERENCES

Image

Image code

Provenance

Image References

6.04 Pnedoedoek Pular Ceram, people of Ceram, 1955

1405606

KITLV, inscription: Pendoedoek poelau Ceram, 1955

Image

Image code

Provenance

2529

KITLV

Image

Image code

Provenance

9.01 Boat race, Ambon, 1904

3889

KITLV

6.06 Government offi cial with his family, Ambon, 1920

84305

KITLV

8.01 KITLV Alifuru warrior dressed for the chakalele dance, 1920

6.07 Rudolf Leiwakabessy, Raja of Nalahia with his family, Nusalaut Maluku, 1903

82690

KITLV

Glossary

6.08 Chief Doruma and family, Maluku, 1905

1402296

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

6.05 Alifuru decorative designs

KITLV, inscription: Utr. Zend. Ver. Goeroe-familie Doruma (Halmaheira). No. 5

Interview Register

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Image

Image code

Provenance

6.10 Lese pinggang (kerchief) lace details

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

10.01 KITLV Alifuru men, Ceram, 1870

30523

KITLV

6.11 Black Kebaya

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

6.12 Baniang

Private collection M. Hulsbosch

Image

Image code

Provenance

11.01 Fishermen in inner harbor, Ambon, 1920

34114

KITLV

11.02 KITLV Palmsugar vendor, Maluku, 1900

3876

KITLV

6.09 Cenela and Kaus

Chapter References Image

Image code

Provenance

7.01 Head hunter Raja Nanna Roea, Alifuru chief West Ceram, 1890

4877

KITLV

Bibliography

215

Glossary

GLOSSARY

GLOSSARY

Glossary A Adat Alifuru

Amboina

Baileo

Communal house.

Baju Dimension of the social system that based its origin in the indigenous foundation of Ambonese society.

Flat patterned, long-sleeved top, collarless, with small round opening with slit for the head.

Baju boorci

Flat-patterned top with a small stand-up collar.

Traditional indigenous people from the central Moluccan island of Seram; they are considered the source, guardians and keepers of Ambonese ethnicity and culture.

Baju belah mukah pendek

Short, hip-length baju.

Baju célah

Medium length baju, reaching mid thigh.

Baju hitam

Black baju, worn to Church service.

Capitol of the Province of Maluku, commonly known as Ambon.

Baju panjang

Long, knee-length baju.

Bandolier

Derived from Spanish ‘bandolera’, soldier’s broad shoulder strap with small pockets for cartridges.

Baniang

White, fitted, long-sleeved collarless shirt-jacket, made from cotton drill, worn by Ambonese males.

Bapak

Father.

Batiste

Finely woven crisp cotton that is slightly opaque.

Batik

Fabric decorated in a ‘resist dye’ technique. Wax designs are drawn onto fabric that is then dip-dyed. The wax resists the dye to penetrate the fibres, revealing the waxed design.

Ambon

Capitol of the Province of Maluku, previously known as Amboina.

Ambonese

Ethnic inhabitants of the central islands of the Province of Maluku: Ambon, Haruku, Saparua, Nusa Laut, as well as the pasisir (coastal) areas of southern and western Seram. The term ‘Ambonese’ was commonly used during Dutch colonial times.

Ambonsche Burgerschool

Dutch, ‘School for the local middle class’; instructions were in the Dutch language.

Anak J

Small lock of hair twisted in a ‘J’ and gelled in place in front of the ear; also called anak rambutan.

Batik canting

Anak rambutan

Small lock of hair twisted in a J and gelled in place in front of the ear; also called anak J.

Cup-like drawing tool that holds warm wax, used to draw batik designs.

Batik cap

Batik stamp made from wood or fi ligree copper.

‘Dogs of the Netherlands-Indies Civil Administration’; derogative nickname for Ambonese soldiers among the Acehnese.

Batik tulis

Batik decorated with hand-drawn designs using a batik canting.

Batu bedak

River sand used as body powder or toothpaste.

Arak

Palm wine.

Belanda

Dutch people, derived from ‘Hollanders’.

Arrilus

Latin for mace, the thin leathery tissue situated between the nutmeg kernel and the fruit pulp.

Belanda Hitam

Black Dutchman.

Blootvoeters

Dutch, ‘barefooters’, referring to ethnic domestic staff.

Arumbai

Moluccan boat.

Braguette

Aslama

Arabic ‘to surrender’, term for Islam religion.

French, medieval codpiece used to protect genitals in battle.

Breeches

Trousers, extending just below the knee.

Dutch, flat-patterned top, derived from the Malay word ‘baju’.

Buginese

Feared seafarers, known for their sea trade and their distinct boats, also known as Bugis.

Nanny.

Bulan Puasa

Ramadan, Muslim fast.

Anjing NICA

B Baadje Babu

218

GLOSSARY

Bunga ron

Wreath carved from the pith of the papaceda bush.

Clinella

Portuguese, slipper.

Bunga goyang

Ornamental flower-shaped hairpin on long coil that facilitates swaying of the flower.

Codpiece

Bunga rampai oil

Oils extracted from a variety of local flowers.

Burgher

Ambonese with legal European status.

Butonese

People from the area of Buton on Java.

C Cakalele

Traditional war dance.

A codpiece is a covering flap or pouch that attaches to the front of the crotch of men's trousers and usually accentuates the genital area. It was held closed by string ties, buttons, Codpieces were used during the 15th and 16th centuries; they became shaped and padded to emphasize rather than to conceal, reaching their peak of size and decoration in the 1540s before falling out of use by the 1590s.

Corselet

Soft, shaped under-bodice.

Corset

Under-bodice shaped with whalebone or timber structure.

Coolie

Slave labourer.

D Directeur

Dutch, managing director.

Directrice

Dutch, managing directress.

Doublet

Fourteenth-century European fitted, waisted, sleeveless jacket buttoned at the front and extensively embroidered.

Drawers

Wide drawstring pants, also called pantaloons.

Dulang

Bowl or basket.

Dusun

Remote country village.

Dutch East Indies

Dutch colonial territory in Indonesian archipelago.

Dyadic

Interaction between two individual components/parts.

E En-putih fl ower

White aromatic waxy flower.

Caladium leaf

From Malay ‘keladi’, araceous aroid genus plant with colourful variegated foliage.

Cambric

Derived from Flemish ‘kamerijk’, fi ne white linen or cotton.

Canting

Wax applicator tool used in traditional batik process to draw with wax on fabric.

Cap

Fillegree copper or carved wooden stamp used to apply wax on fabric during the batik process.

Capu tikar

Straw boater, from the French ‘chapeau’ (hat) and Malay ‘tikar’ (mat).

Cavaliers

Derived from Latin ‘caballarius’, exuberantly dressed seventeenth-century European aristocrats.

Celana bovèn

Drawstring pants, from the Dutch ‘boven’, meaning upper or outer, referring to outerwear as distinct from underwear.

Celana golvi

Drawstring pants with fly.

Celana monyet

Monkey pants, one-piece romper suit, regular children’s daywear.

Cemara

False hairpiece.

Cenela

Derived from Portuguese ‘clinela’, richly decorated toe slipper.

Cengkih

Clove.

Cidako babungga

Loincloth made from barkcloth.

Ciolé

White cotton, boat-neck top with 3/4 sleeves, richly decorated soft corselet.

Citrus hystrix

White flower from the lemon tree.

Ethical Policy

Dutch Ethical Policy (Ethische Politiek) was the official policy of the colonial government of Indonesia during the four decades from 1901 until the Japanese occupation of 1942. It emphasized that the Netherlands accepted an ethical responsibility for the welfare of their colonial subjects and had a moral obligation to the native people of the Dutch East Indies that could be summarized in the 'Three Policies' of Irrigation, Transmigration and Education.

Eugenia aromatica

Latin, clove tree.

219

GLOSSARY

Jenever

Dutch gin.

Medieval European sleeveless jacket placed under a soldier’s armour.

Jojaro

Virgin.

Jongos

House boy.

Gemutu tree

Palm tree.

Jubah

Gewang

Small earring.

Long Muslim Arabic-style flowing robe in colourful silk, from Arabic ‘jubbah’, or ‘jaibbah’, meaning robe.

Gigi anjing

Dog’s tooth-shaped ribbon or ornamental jewellery placed on the forehead.

Jungfernkranz

German, virgin’s wreath.

Jupon

Drawstring skirt used as undergarment.

Juru Bicara

Adat spokesperson, representative.

Mythical fertility figure: one who is killed and returns to life.

K Kain

Length of woven material.

Arabic, Muslim who has completed the pilgrimage to Mecca.

Kain bapak

Father’s cloth, given to father of the bride.

Kain batik

Material decorated in the batik technique.

Kain berang

Red headwrap (literally ‘furious cloth’).

Kain berkat

Blessing cloth, given to village head as compensation for loss of virgin of the community.

Kain buka pintu

Open-door cloth, hung over the door of the bride’s house.

Kain gereja

Cloth worn exclusively during Church services.

G Gambeson

H Hainuele Haji Harene

Barkcloth hipwrap, female version of cidako.

Harta Kawin

Bridewealth.

Haruku

Central Moluccan island in the Lease Group.

Hitam

Black.

I Ibu

Mother.

Kain ibu serani

Godmother’s cloth, offered to godmother of the bride.

Imam

Arabic, religious Muslim leader.

Kain kafan

Ina Tuni

Women’s branch of the banned organization Sakerat Ambon.

Funerary shroud draped over the deceased, can also be worn by mourners.

Kain kandung

Pregnancy wrap, used to cover waist of pregnant women.

Inamalaena

Wearing of a folded kain over the left shoulder, indicating the married status of a woman.

Kain kasumba

Piece of red fabric hung over the front of the cidako.

Indies

Dutch East Indies.

Kain Makassar

Checkered kain originating from Makassar, also called kain palekat.

Kain minta ampun

Forgiveness cloth, given to placate parents of bride after elopement.

Kain negeri

Village cloth, offered to head of village as compensation for loss of a virgin of the community, see also kain berkat.

Kain oom

Uncle’s cloth, offered to the eldest brother of bride’s mother.

Kain palekat

Checkered kain, sometimes called kain Makassar.

Inlandsche Regelement Native Rule, simplified version of Dutch law, applied to all civil cases except Family and Marriage law, introduced into the Dutch East Indies in 1927. Inlandsche School

Dutch, native school.

Insulinde

Indonesian archipelago.

J Jahit

Tailor, seamstress.

Jannen

Dutch slang for soldiers, implying marching puppets.

Jas tutup

Colonial white, tropical unlined suit for men.

220

GLOSSARY

Kain panama

Naming cloth, symbolizes removal of bride from ancestral home.

Kain pikul

Long narrow sash sewn into loop, made of black cotton, satin or velvet, richly embroidered with beads, sequins and silk threads.

Kebaya cina

Kebaya made from Chinese silk.

Kebaya cita

Kebaya made from black chintz material.

Kebaya dansa

Festive kebaya.

Kebaya merah

Red kebaya used during local festivities by males.

Kebaya panjang

Long kebaya.

Kebaya rendah

Fitted, tailored low-cut kebaya made from open lace fabric.

Kebaya tangan

Formal kebaya ironed with starch.

Kecil Rade

King’s younger brother.

Kelewang

Sword.

Kelsan menampal

Colourful striped trousers with a low crotch and narrowly fitted around the ankles.

Kain selele

Narrow hip wrap used as second kain, usually family heirloom.

Kain selendang

Shoulder cloth.

Kain selongkan

Festive kain threaded with gold or silver yarn.

Kain surpagi

Morning cloth, worn during the morning.

Kain susu

Milk cloth, symbolizes the love and care given by the mother to the bride.

Kain tempat tidur

Bed cloth, represents swaddling baby cloth, symbolizes suffering and sacrifice during birthing process.

Kelsan patah lutu

Kain uti-uti

Original kain selele, sacred lap cloth handed down to eldest daughter on her wedding, draped around hips to ensure fertility.

White trousers with a low crotch and narrowly fitted around the ankles.

Kepala Soa

Head of village.

Kerah pasang

Yoke or collar, another term for ‘mustisa’.

Kakehan

Secret men’s society in Western Seram.

Kimono

Kamisool

Dutch, from Latin ‘camïsia’, loose vest edged with colourful ribbons.

Flat patterned loose, sashed, wide-sleeved Japanese jacket.

Klom

Derived from Dutch ‘klomp’ (clog), wooden sandals used to cover feet during inclement weather or rough terrain.

KNIL

Koninklijk Nederlands Indisch Leger, the DutchIndonesian Army.

Kokki

Dutch, kitchen maid, cook.

Kolanos

Nobility.

Koloniale School voor Meisjes en Vrouwen

Colonial School for Girls and Women, opened in The Hague in 1920, prepared women for life in the Dutch East Indies.

Kondéh

Hair bun, placed at back of the head.

Kondéh besar

Large hair bun, also called kondéh bulan.

Kondéh bulan

Hair bun, also called kondéh besar.

Kondéh ékor bébek

Duck tail shaped bun.

Kondéh falungku

Fist-shaped hair bun.

Korkuping

Hair pin.

Kampung

Rural village.

Karabus mas

Large gold earrings.

Karsang kartow

White or navy drawstring pants, mid-calf of full length.

Kaus

Dutch, derived from the word ‘kous’ or ‘stocking’; in the old Dutch ‘indoor slipper’.

Kawin

To marry, wedding.

Kawin Adat

Traditional wedding according to Adat rules.

Kawin Lari

Elopement.

Kawin Masuk

Marriage whereby groom enters bride’s household.

Kawin Minta

Marriage by proposal.

Kaya-putih oil

Teatree oil.

Kayu Sabun

Wood soap.

Kebaya

Flat patterned kimono-style jacket, open at the front and reaching mid-thigh.

221

GLOSSARY

Kretek

Cigarette.

Minyak

Perfume.

Kupu pakuro

Butterfly fern.

Monadic

Single unit.

Kutang

White cotton sleeveless camisole, richly decorated underwear.

Monocle

Single glass eye piece.

Mount Nunusaku

Sacred mountain located in west Seram, it is believed mankind originated here.

Mukah

Decorated centre piece of cloth.

Mungaré

Young unmarried man.

Mustisa

U-shaped yoke worn over baju, made of black cotton, satin or velvet, richly embroidered with beads, sequins and silk threads.

Kutang kecil

Sleeveless camisole with thin shoulder straps.

Kutang besar

Singlet style camisole.

L Lalike Inai

‘Mother of the Morning’ motif, interlocked closed (rested) design.

Lalike Siana

Awakening motif, open and unfolded (moving) design.

Lenso

Kerchief.

Myristica fragrans

Nutmeg tree.

Lenso pinggang

White lace kerchief draped over the left hip, falling from a waistband, showing from under a baju.

N Natzar

Offering.

Derived from Dutch ‘lokjes’, hair locks.

Nederhose

German, medieval stockings that reached from the top of the foot to the top of the thigh.

Eyelet and cut-work embroidery originating from the Portuguese island of Madeira.

Negeri

Small village compound, also known as ‘kampung’.

Ngofagamu

Commoners, regular ethnic people.

Malayu Ambon

Ambonese Malay, dialect of central Moluccas.

Nona

Miss.

Maluku

Moluccas.

Nona Cenela

‘Miss Slipper’, named after the cenela a decorated slipper.

Maluku Tengah

Northern Moluccas.

Nona Duduk Rumah

Maluku Tenggara

Central Moluccas.

Maluku Utara

Southeastern Moluccas.

‘Miss Stay-at-Home’, favourite daughter trained in home economics and prepared as eligible wife for minister or teacher.

Mandarin collar

High, stiff, upstanding collar.

Nona Passar

‘Miss Market’, working-class girl.

Manis

Sweet.

Nona Plooi

‘Miss Pleat’, upper middle-class woman, named after the pleated skirt, also called ‘Nona Rok’.

Manset

Cuff, derived from the French ‘manchet’.

Nona Rok

Mata mulan

Lids of the Turbo petholata shells, called ‘moon’s eyes’ due to their colour and markings, supposed to have magical powers, often used as buttons on kebaya.

“Miss Skirt’, upper-middle-class woman, named after the rok, the pleated skirt, also called ‘Nona Plooi’ (Mrs Pleat).

Nyonya Kaos

Melati fl ower

Jasmine flower.

‘Mrs Stocking’, middle class woman named after the kaus, decorated soft slipper.

Menari lenso

Kerchief dance.

Nyai

Mistress, concubine, housekeeper.

Mestizo

Initially person of Portuguese and indigenous heritage, later a term indicating a person of mixed western and indigenous racial heritage.

Nyonya

Married woman, elderly lady.

Nyonya Slof

‘Mrs Slipper’, another name for ‘Nyonya Kaos’.

Lokis M Madeira work

222

GLOSSARY

O Oiale

Circular motif used to decorate cidako (hipwrap) and baileo (communal house).

Pata Siwa Hitam

Black Pata Siwa group, tattooed League of Nine people.

Pata Siwa Putih

White Pata Siwa group, untattooed people.

Patola

Indian double ikat trade cloth, initially traded by Asian traders until the Dutch monopolized its trade, imbued with protective and healing powers, indicates high socioeconomic rank.

Payung

Sun shade.

Peci

Black hard-shell cap commonly worn on Java, accorded symbolic status by Sukarno who declared it in 1921 a symbol of Free Indonesia.

Pela

Intervillage alliance system based on genealogical ties strictly prohibiting marriage between members of allied villages. Sunday School teacher.

Oma

Dutch, grandmother.

Oom

Dutch, uncle.

Open jas

Dutch, white cotton blazer style jacket, half lined, worn unbuttoned.

Operculum

Latin, lid of the Turbo Petholata shell.

Orang Ambon

Native of Ambon.

P Pakaian

Clothing.

Panas

Hot.

Pandan latifolus

Palm tree.

Pengajar Hari Ahad

Palm tree.

Peniti Kebaya

Kebaya clips, usually linked with small chain.

Baggy white cotton trousers falling to the knee and secured with drawstrings, used as underwear, also called ‘drawers’.

Periksa

Examination at Christian confi rmation classes.

Peter Pan collar

Flat collar with rounded ends.

Pinahatu

Chinese dish, represents bride’s head.

Papaceda

Local tree, provides marrow used for carving flower buds for hair ornaments.

Pinang

Areca nut.

Papar gigi

Tooth fi ling, part of coming-of-age ritual.

Pinggan batu

Old small dish represents bride’s food.

Parang

Knife, machete.

Pinggang mas

Golden waist band, girdle.

Passar

Market.

Piring natzar

Offertory plate.

Pasisir

Coastal region of north Java.

Puttees

Protective strip of cloth or leather, wound around the leg from ankle to knees.

Pata Lima

‘League of Five’ division of society, very organized, used the number five to develop federations and diplomatic and trade network, considered to characterize strong male warrior elements, coastal society immigrated from inland region.

Pandanus tree Pantaloons

Pata Siwa

‘League of Nine’ division of society, more loosely organized, used the number nine to develop federations and diplomatic and trade network, characterizes female elements of fertile agriculture, inland society, predominantly Christian.

R Rajah

King.

Rattan

Climbing palm with tough thin stems used for wickerwork or canes.

Receiving kebaya

Decorated kebaya considered a formal day garment by European women at the beginning of the 20th century.

RMS

Republik Maluku Selatan, Republic of the South Moluccas, a self-proclaimed republic in the Moluccan Islands founded on 25 April 1950, receiving strong support among the Ambonese KNIL soldiers.

223

GLOSSARY

Rok

Dutch, fi nely pleated skirt.

Slabbetje

Dutch term (bib), also known as ‘mustisa’.

Ruff

Finely pleated white ‘millstone’ collar, worn in Europe during the 17th century.

Societeit

Dutch social club, commonly known as ‘Soos’.

Solo batik

Batik material from the Sultanate of Solo (now Surakarta), characterized by the distinctive golden yellow and deep brown colours and their parang (daggar) designs symbolizing power and justice, running from the top left to bottom right hand corner.

Sonke

Black Muslim hat made of silk or horsehair.

S Salawaku

Long, narrow timber shield used for dance performances in Ceram. Often inlayed with mother of pearl.

Salempang

Yoke, also known as ‘mustisa’.

Sambac plant

Jasmine plant.

Santen

Shredded coconut.

Sapalene fl ower

Local fragrant flower.

Sapu tangan

Cloth used as Bible cover.

Sarekat Ambon

Banned political organization founded in 1920 which encouraged nationalist sentiments among KNIL soldiers.

Sopi

Dutch, derived from ‘zopie’, alcoholic liquor.

Sorban

Turban, worn by Muslim men.

T Tali kain

Long narrow strip of fabric used like a belt.

Tangsi

Military compound.

Taripu

Leather sandals worn by Muslim rajahs and imams only.

Rectangular piece of cloth sewn into a tube, worn around the waist and falling below the knees, worn by men and women.

Tatting

Lace-making technique using a small hand bobbin.

Tiang laki-laki

Literally ‘male post’, the centre beam usually holding up the house.

Sarong semarang

Sarong from the north coast of Java known for their Chinese and European inspired designs, prized by the European community.

Tikam kroonci

Crowning pin, derived from Dutch ‘kroontje’, little crown, laced with ribbons, resembled a cockade.

Sawan

Evil spirit who seizes children and makes them restless.

Totok

Europeans born in Europe who settled (often temporarily) in the Indonesian archipelago.

Schiller shirt

White, tunic-style shirt with a flat, wide turned-over collar, made popular by the German philosopher, historian, and playwright Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller (1759-1805).

Turbo petholata

Latin, cone-shaped shell with patola markings.

U Udet

Girdle.

Dutch militia, those with legal European status were drafted in its service.

Ular mas

Snake-like ornament represents bride’s body.

Uliassa

Youngest of the three brothers who are considered founding ancestors of all Central Moluccans.

Ulilima

Second of the three brothers who are considered founding ancestors of all Central Moluccans.

Ulisiwa

Eldest of the three brothers who are considered founding ancestors of all Central Moluccans.

Sarong

Schutterij Selendang

Shoulder cloth.

Sidi

Confi rmation into the Christian faith.

Sisir

Boat-shaped bone, horn or tortoiseshell comb.

Sits

Dutch, chintz fabric.

Slaapbroek

Dutch (literally ‘pants to sleep in’), Chinese style wide drawstring trousers made from batik material, worn by European men.

22 4

GLOSSARY

Upper-hose

German, loose breeches-like leggings that became more bulbous during the Renaissance in Europe, usually worn with a codpiece.

V Verindischen

Going native, becoming influenced by native manners.

Vernederlandsen

Dutchifying, being influenced by Dutch manners.

VOC

Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie, United East-India Company.

Vrouwenhofje

Dutch term for ‘women’s quarters’.

W Waringin tree

Ficus benjamina tree.

Winkle shell Z Zeeuwse knopjes

Zouave pants

Horn-shaped whelks or turbo shells with distinct mother-of-pearl lining. Dutch, Zeelandian knots, silver jewellery from the Dutch province of Zeeland, used as pins and buttons on hats and jackets. French, wide oriental styled trousers used by members of Algerian recruits, enlisted in the French infantry, noted for its display of colour. Currently still worn by the papal guard of honour at the Vatican.

225

Interview Register

INTERVIEW REGISTER

INTERVIEW REGISTER

Interview register Evers-Claes, D. (1999) Valkenswaard, The Netherlands Evers-Verspaget, M. (2000) Dommelen, The Netherlands Hukom, C. (2001) Haarlem, The Netherlands Hukom, C. (2003) Jakarta, Indonesia Huwaé-Sabandar, M. (2001) Hoogeveen, The Netherlands Jozef, L. (2001) Maarsen, The Netherlands Latuheru, T. (1999) Sydney, Australia Latuheru-Pelasula, L. (2001) Dordrecht, The Netherlands Latuheru-Pelasula, R. (2001) Dordrecht, The Netherlands Leeman-Musila, L. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Lesimanuaja-Amahoru, M. (2001) Hoogeveen, The Netherlands Lilipaly-de Voogt, A. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Loupatty-Lessil, M. (2001) Hoogeveen, The Netherlands Malawauw-Saija, P. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Manaputti, M. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Manahutu, A. (2001) Tiel, The Netherlands Manuhuwa, A. (1999) Jakarta, Indonesia Matitaputty, A. (2001) Tiel, The Netherlands Matitaputty, A.M. (2001) Tiel, The Netherlands Moerdijk, N. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Moerdijk-Malawauw, E. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Munumete-Siahaya, L. (2001) Utrecht, The Netherlands Muskitta, F. (2003) Jakarta, Indonesia

228

Noija, N. (2001) Utrecht, The Netherlands Pattiapon, R. (1999) Sydney, Australia Pattiasina-Wenno, K. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Pattikawa, O. (2001) Oost-Souburg, The Netherlands Pattikawa, R. (2001) Oost-Souburg, The Netherlands Pattisahusiwa, S. (2001) Ridderkerk, The Netherlands Patty, M. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Patty, T. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Pelupessy, S. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Pesulima, S. (1999) Jakarta, Indonesia Ririn, A. (2001) Ridderkerk, The Netherlands Sadino-Pelupessy, B. (2001) Ridderkerk, The Netherlands Sahureka, I. (1999) Jakarta, Indonesia Sahusilawane, M. (2001) Hoogeveen, The Netherlands Seluta, B. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Seluta, D. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Sijranamual, W. (2001) Rozenburg, The Netherlands Siwalete, C. (2001) Alphen aan de Rijn, The Netherlands Suitela, B. (2000) Moordrecht, The Netherlands Tahamata, F. (2001) Barneveld, The Netherlands Tahamata, J-M. (2001) Tongeren, Belgium Tahamata, L. (2001) Tongeren, Belgium Tahamata, S. (2001) Tongeren, Belgium Tahija, L. (2001) Utrecht, The Netherlands

INTERVIEW REGISTER

Tuhuteru, M. (2001) Maarsen, The Netherlands Tuhuteru, M.O. (2001) Maarsen, The Netherlands Tupan, B. (1999) Jakarta, Indonesia Tupanwael, E. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Uneputty , J. (2001) Utrecht, The Netherlands Usman-Sinay, M. (2001) Middelburg, The Netherlands Van Bommel-Pattisahusiwa, F. (2001) Ridderkerk, The Netherlands Van Vuuren, M. (2001) Oudorp, The Netherlands Veeringa, F. (1999) Sydney, Australia Veeringa, R. (1999) Sydney, Australia Wattimena, O. (1999) Jakarta, Indonesia Wigard, H. (2000) Utrecht, The Netherlands

229

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11.02 KITLV Palmsugar vendor, Maluku, 1900

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