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Coffee, crater lakes — and the Lio way

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Visit RMC Detusoko

Kelimutu is more than its famed crater lakes; immerse yourself in the rich heritage of the Ende-Lio highlands, and its role in the founding of modern Indonesia.
Coffee, crater lakes — and the Lio way
Coffee, crater lakes — and the Lio way
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Kelimutu is more than its famed crater lakes. Travel with RMC Detusoko and immerse yourself in the agricultural heritage of Flores’ Ende-Lio highlands, and its role in the founding of modern Indonesia. 

MEET THE LIO PEOPLE

“The house is our mother. The mother has an esteemed position in our society,” says Aloysius Leta, a Wologai village elder, as he shows me into his traditional house in the village.

Known for its traditional houses with its distinctive thatched roofs, Wologai is one of the oldest Lio villages in Flores’s Ende-Lio highlands. Lio people profess to be descendants of one mother and one father from Mount Lepembusu, and the Lio traditional house reflects this “one mother” narrative. 

Though predominantly Catholic, much of the Lio people’s daily life are still governed by their pre-Christian customs. As such, rituals such as agricultural ceremonies, prayer offerings to ancestors, and the annual Kelimutu festival honouring ancestors are commonplace. 

An invitation to enter a traditional Lio house is a sacred and intimate gesture. The veranda through which guests enter symbolises the mother’s open hands and heart, says Aloysius. 

Next to the entrance is a carving of a pair of female breasts, which guests are to touch with quiet reverence upon entering. The interior of the house symbolises the mother’s womb and a communion of brotherhood.

Striking as they are, all of Wologai’s houses are reproductions of the originals — fires are a recurrent plague, and Aloysius has witnessed four Wologai fires in his lifetime. The last one in 2012 took just 15 minutes to consume every single house in the village. 

“Despite these trials, we don’t run away. We remain here to guard our mother,” says Aloysius. 

And it is this sense of pride and guardianship over Lio heritage that Ferdinandus “Nando” Watu seeks to preserve and share with the world through RMC Detusoko.  

ONE HEARTH, ONE MOTHER, ONE HOUSE 

RMC Detusoko is a collective founded by Nando and a group of young Lio farmers from Detusoko district, which encompasses Wologai, as well as Detusoko Barat, Nando’s village. 

Deeply grounded in their agricultural and spiritual traditions but aware of the need to tap economic opportunities beyond their home, RMC develops the capacity of local farmers for ventures into hospitality and artisan food production — fields beyond traditional farming, but within reach with the proper support.

In 2017, RMC founded Decotourism to manage RMC’s travel venture, taking advantage of the Lio villages’ proximity to one of Ende regency’s prime attractions: Mount Kelimutu and its famed tri-coloured lakes. 

With Decotourism, you take in not only the wonder of the lakes, but also the diverse ways in which young Lio farmers interpret the spirit of Kelimutu.

Revered as the final resting place of Lio ancestors, Kelimutu was once restricted as a Lio prayer ground. In the 1930s, an exiled Sukarno (also spelled Soekarno) —  who later became Indonesia’s first president — used to trek here to meditate. During his exile in Ende, Sukarno became influenced by Lio philosophy, which he tapped for his vision of a decolonised, multicultural republic. 

“Our Lio identity can be summed up as lika, iné and oné: we are a people of one hearth, one mother and one house.”

Nando Watu, founder, RMC Detusoko

Our visit began at 4am, where, dressed in layers to ward off the chill, we set off on a drive in pitch dark for our Kelimutu sunrise walk. Halfway through, our car pulls over. Nando steps out with a cigarette and a preparation of areca nuts, betel peppers and ground limestone. 

But this isn’t a cigarette break; we are at Kelimutu’s ritual gate, the Konde Ratu prayer rock. Presenting these offerings to his ancestors, Nando prays for our travels.

We then commenced the 30-minute light trek. Initially, I needed a headlamp to light my way. But soon, the first glimmers of daylight came piercing through the velvety violet skies, and the cold receded. 

 

A Kelimutu sunrise is like watching nature’s orchestra — the wind conducts blankets of clouds in waves over the three lakes as the landscapes change colours, accompanied by a choir of rare garugiwa, the Bahasa Indonesia name for the bare-throated whistler.

The three lakes in Kelimutu’s craters are known for changing colours, possibly due to the chemical reactions between the minerals and volcanic gases. Locals believe changes in the lakes’ colours present certain omens, and that each lake is designated different spirits: the spirits of those who died young, those who died in old age, or those who used supernatural powers for evil when they were living.

These spiritual landscapes are the foundation of RMC’s work: drawing on the philosophies of Lio identity to develop opportunities relevant to today’s world.  

A FUTURE AT STAKE 

DECO_RicePaddies_03_AndraFembriarto_2019

A former journalist, Nando had long been interested in developing the Ende highlands’ tourism potential. In 2014, he was awarded a scholarship to an ecotourism management study programme in the United States. 

On his return home, he worked as a facilitator for community-based tourism and solid waste management projects in the Ende highlands. One of his projects was Waturaka village, which won a national award in 2017 for Best Rural Ecotourism in Indonesia. 

Drawing on his lessons with Waturaka, Nando, who was recently elected village head of Detusoko Barat, hopes that RMC can persuade young locals to stay home instead of venturing abroad for jobs. 

“Indonesia loses up to a million farmers each year because young adults shun the farm. Although it’s good that farmers’ kids are getting higher education, it is a problem when parents establish the mindset that farmers are a low social class not worth joining.” says Nando, who is in his 30s.

“Our farmers are now typically over 45 years old, and we wonder why we’re suffering labour shortages for harvesting our otherwise profitable cloves, cocoa, rice and coffee,” he adds. 

RMC seeks to show young Ende-Lio highlanders the kind of future in store for them if they choose home. 

Its achievements include a partnership with Javara, a premium indigenous artisanal food brand, and participation in the British Council’s Active Citizens programme, the annual Kelimutu Festival, and exhibitions in Thailand and South Korea. 

It also provides scholarship opportunities ranging from half-year tourism programmes in Bali to bachelor degrees in agriculture. 

Decotourism now  sees steady bookings from around the world, as well as support from Wonderful Indonesia — the state tourism authority — for participating homestays.  

During our trip, we visit Waturaka, where we meet one of its ecotourism pioneers, Blasius “Sius” Leta Oja, a farmer who owns Sius Homestay. The homestay is also the rehearsal space for Nuwa Nai, a music group that handcrafts Lio instruments similar to the mandolin, flute, and violin.

Nuwa Nai performs a Lio song about the spirits of Kelimutu and for the community to stay united in a changing world, moving our driver Igen to tears. 

“We are proud to preserve our culture,” says Sius. He adds that economic opportunities from performances and tour packages at Nuwa Nai keep young Waturakans home, who otherwise would migrate to work in East Malaysia’s oil palm fields.

FROM FARM TO TABLE

Back in Detusoko, we go on a scenic half-day hike, consisting of an uphill walk through vast swathes of rice fields, panoramic views at farmers’ resting huts, and moments of peaceful silence at megalithic gravesites. 

The destination is Nando’s coffee plantation, where Igen and a crew of interning university students have prepared a picnic over the bonfire. After lunch, we picked ripe robusta coffee cherries and drive back with Igen.  

At Nando’s house, RMC members are busy sorting the harvest with members of Universitas Flores’ agricultural faculty. Sorting is a social event filled with chatter and hot drinks, during which I learn about the different grades of robusta coffee.

Later, we taste the coffee in RMC’s Lepa Lio café, a hangout spot for Decotourism guests decorated with classic Flores details such as bamboo furnishings and palm leaf weavings. 

Lepa Lio is also the production hub for RMC’s house brand, From the Fernandos’ Family Farm. Products — developed in collaboration with Javara’s food artisan academy — include peanut butter, marmalade, koro degalai (Lio for chilli-tomato relish), coffee, black rice, and sorghum.

Imelda Ndimbu, one of Lepa Lio’s employees, demonstrates how to create peanut butter — roasting the peanuts to perfection, weighing the right amounts of other locally-sourced ingredients such as sea salt and virgin coconut oil, and sterilising the jars in a hot bath. 

Naturally, I bought all the jars of peanut butter we made, and then some.

Nando also makes it a point to bring his guests to shop at other social enterprises in the Ende-Lio highlands, including the Wologai coffee shop and the Sokoria farmers’ collective. 

This rings true to the Lio philosophy of equal opportunity and interdependency in business; good fortune is shared with the folks of one hearth.

We end our trip with a tour of Ende city, visiting the historic sites where Sukarno drew influence from Catholic priests and Ende-Lio communities for the nation he would later found in 1945 — Indonesia. 

Months later, I am still processing and learning from the memories of this eclectic trip. What lingers is the sincerity of the relationships that make the Lio identity, how these relationships promise a bright future for its young farmers, and how, not too long ago, they served as inspiration for the nation I call home.

“Come as a guest, leave as family.”

Nando Watu, founder, RMC Detusoko

THE DIFFERENCE YOU MAKE

Travelling with Decotourism supports sustainable livelihoods for young Lio highlanders who choose farming at home over careers in cities. Retaining well-educated, productive youth in the village promotes economic growth, cultural resilience and indigenous stewardship in the Ende-Lio highlands.

By including in your itinerary visits to cultural heritage sites such as Wologai, and activities such as the Nuwa Nai performance, you help keep alive the sacred spaces where Lio highlanders share their cultural memories.

Proceeds from Decotourism also help RMC invest in its members through higher education and career opportunities, in fields previously beyond locals’ reach, such as hospitality, artisanal food production, and enterprise. 

RMC members are selected through an interview process and assigned to suitable business units. It retains 10 per cent of the rates paid for these jobs, to cover operational costs.

‘An additional sense of purpose’

Gajje is a guide with Hacra Dhani, a desert travel social enterprise in Rajasthan that uplifts the local community.

Hacra Dhani is a local-owned desert travel social enterprise in a rural corner of Rajasthan specialising in authentic and sustainable experiences guided by the local community.

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“I have known Gemar ji for more than 10 years now. So, when he had first mentioned to me this opportunity to be a guide, I was intrigued.

I live with my family which comprises my father, my brothers and their families. We are farmers and though this land looks arid to an outsider, we cultivate crops that are not water intensive. We have however recently invested in a borewell that allows us access to a more regular supply of water. We are primarily dependent on our farmlands. We cultivate to consume and occasionally sell our produce in the market.

That’s why this opportunity to become a local guide was of interest to me. It is because of this role that I have learnt English. I am now a lot more at ease and conversant with tourists and sharing with them the ways of our life here in the desert.

In some ways, being a guide also makes me want to be more in tune and alert about the on-goings within my village. It gives me an additional sense of purpose.

And the extra income, though seasonal, helps. I still continue to work with my family on our farm and tend to the goats on the days I take tourists around for the village walk. It means beginning my day a little earlier than otherwise but that’s okay.”

Read more about Hacra Dhani here

Meet Gemar of Hacra Dhani

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Gajje is a guide with Hacra Dhani, a desert travel social enterprise in Rajasthan that uplifts the local community.
Gajje is a guide with Hacra Dhani, a desert travel social enterprise in Rajasthan that uplifts the local community.
‘An additional sense of purpose’

‘I knew I wanted to do something here in my village’

Gemar Singh is the founder of Hacra Dhani, a local-owned desert travel social enterprise in a rural corner of Rajasthan specialising in authentic and sustainable experiences guided by the local community.

Hacra Dhani is a local-owned desert travel social enterprise in a rural corner of Rajasthan specialising in authentic and sustainable experiences guided by the local community.

Gemar Singh
Hacra Dhani
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“From my student days in Jodhpur city, I have felt a pull towards tourism. I would interact with tourists even back then, recommend local spots for them to go to and sometimes even accompany them like I did when I travelled to Delhi and then onwards to Himachal Pradesh with a French tourist.

But I knew that I wanted to do something here in my village. I knew nothing about rural tourism or responsible travel back then. All I knew was that I wanted to bring tourists here to experience a ‘living desert’ because the popular misconception is that a desert is just barren land where nothing grows or survives.

When I began setting Hacra up, there were no roads nor electricity here – let alone internet connectivity. I used to make trips to Jodhpur and spend some time at Internet cafes to reach out and respond to any queries about us. Later, I bought a second-hand laptop and set up a solar based internet router so I wouldn’t have to keep travelling to Jodhpur city.

It was a struggle getting guests initially. But I’ve been persistent and I’ve learnt by doing. I also built a team so that I had some support and could offer others from the village to also earn some additional income during the season. 

Today there are four guides, eight camel breeders/herders, and a group of women who assist with housekeeping and kitchen-work that comprise of the team at Hacra. These mud house rooms (dhanis) have been collaboratively constructed with the help of others from the village community.

Today we acknowledge our role and responsibility in informing the tourist beforehand what to expect from a stay at a living desert. We realise now the importance of stating to them what the local context is and what they would also be required to comply with when they are here – such as the culture, their clothing, the food, the overall ambience. We are a lot more assertive and comfortable with declining a guest’s request if it isn’t in alignment with our ethics.”

Read more about Hacra Dhani here

Meet Gajje of Hacra Dhani 

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Gemar Singh is the founder of Hacra Dhani, a local-owned desert travel social enterprise in a rural corner of Rajasthan specialising in authentic and sustainable experiences guided by the local community.
Gemar Singh, founder of Hacra Dhani
‘I knew I wanted to do something here in my village’

Rural adventures go virtual in a lockdown

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Before the COVID-19 pandemic, tourism was emerging as a boon to rural communities seeking to supplement their incomes while preserving their way of life. With little tourism to rely on as the coronavirus rages on, two rural communities in Indonesia are finding other ways to cope. 

Virtual voyages: Lakoat.Kujawas 

Can the magic of a revered water source in the Mollo highlands be felt across a virtual video tour?

Perhaps not as much as Dicky Senda would like. But with the COVID-19 pandemic shutting his hometown off from tourism revenue, such experiments provide a way  to bring the sights and sounds of his hometown into people’s homes and a means to sustain his community’s way of life. 

Just a little more than a year ago, Dicky had debuted the M’nahat Fe’u Heritage Trail and was looking forward to welcoming guests regularly in 2020. Run as a monthly day trip in Taiftob, South Central Timor by local collective Lakoat.Kujawas, the guided tour introduces guests to Mollo ecosystems, cuisine and narratives. Like its namesake, the Mollo Timorese m’nahat fe’u ritual, it celebrates the harvest season by serving new food.

Produce from smallholder farms showcased on the M’nahat Fe’u Heritage Trail. Photo by Andre Fembriarto

Produce from smallholder farms showcased on the M’nahat Fe’u Heritage Trail. Photo by Andre Fembriarto

But the COVID-19 pandemic ground the heritage trail, as well as the many livelihoods it created, to a halt. While Lakoat.Kujawas cooperative members are mostly farmers who could continue with agriculture, they lost the valuable supplementary income they earned as guides and cooks for travellers. The revenue from these endeavours had also been intended to go into a collective savings programme to fund critical needs of members’ children. 

Sales for their produce such as coffee, condiments and jagung bose (puffed maize for porridge) also declined, as these were sold mainly on the heritage trail.  Without these sales, the farmers are vulnerable to middlemen who set prices so unfairly low that farmers often leave produce unsold — a system that creates the poverty and hunger common throughout Indonesian Timor. 

“Economically we are impacted,” admits Dicky, co-founder of Lakoat.Kujawas, citing logistical problems such as closures of the postal services and sporadic operations of shuttles leaving Taiftob for the provincial capital Kupang. At one point, it took a fortnight for a package to reach Jakarta.

Nevertheless, with the help of friends, Dicky found opportunities to reinvent the heritage trail. 

Enter Pasar M’nahat Fe’u (“new food market”), one of Lakoat.Kujawas’ digital initiatives. Via its social media channels, anyone in South Central Timor can now pre-order lunch boxes containing healthy, traditional Timorese dishes normally served on the heritage trail, prepared and delivered by collective members. “Our open orders promote no MSG, no palm oil, only local coconut oil, traditional dishes and recipes, and a plastic-free lunch packaged in banana leaves,” said Dicky.

Lakoat.Kujawas also debuted a digital version of the M’nahat Fe’u Heritage Trail as part of the Virtual Heritage series on the travel platform Traval.co. The free pilot was sponsored by the Indonesian Ministry of Tourism; currently it is still available for free, but participants are encouraged to "pay-as-you-wish”.

The Lakoat.Kujawas’ virtual team that worked to bring its signature M’nahat Fe’u experience to an online audience, in the absence of physical travel. Photo courtesy of Lakoat.Kujawas
The Lakoat.Kujawas’ virtual team that worked to bring its signature M’nahat Fe’u experience to an online audience, in the absence of physical travel. Photo courtesy of Lakoat.Kujawas

Featuring singer and activist Rara Sekar as a special guest, the virtual tour, in Bahasa Indonesia only, recreates much of the M’nahat Fe’u experience in a part-live two-hour Zoom Meeting format. Explaining the need to pre-record some portions of the tour, Dicky elaborated, “Patchy internet is a challenge: nudge your phone and you lose the signal.  It’s impossible to broadcast live from the wellspring, Napjam Rock, etc.” 

In the virtual format, Lakoat.Kujawas has also introduced new seasonal elements, such as a tour inside an ume kbubu traditional house, a demonstration of how jagung bose is made, and a showcase of new preserved products such as sayur asin (pickled mustard greens), guava wine, ginger beer, and roselle jam.  Husband-and-wife team Willybrodus Oematan (guide) and Marlinda Nau (head cook) also presented segments of the virtual tour.

Local demand for Lakoat.Kujawas’ digital initiatives remains modest in the South Central Timor region. “But at least there is demand and it helps,” added Dicky, mentioning plans to open a Lakoat.Kujawas shop in Kupang where hot lunches can be prepared on-site and gluten-free sourdough bread and preserved goods can be sold.  

In the meantime, community empowerment remains Lakoat.Kujawas’ priority. In July 2020 it restarted its Skol Tamolok learning initiative for locals, after a forced hiatus due to the pandemic. It currently offers workshops on food fermentation and preservation, documenting the local dialect, video filming and editing, and traditional music and dance.

Post-pandemic preparation: Decotourism

Nando Watu, co-founder of RMC Detusoko, has spent COVID-19 on capacity-building projects for his community. Photo by Andra Fembriarto

Nando Watu, co-founder of RMC Detusoko, has spent COVID-19 on capacity-building projects for his community. Photo by Andra Fembriarto

Meanwhile in Flores, RMC Detusoko is planning for a post-pandemic comeback of Decotourism, with co-founder Nando Watu confident that tourism will recover.

RMC Detusoko is a farmers’ collective that creates opportunities for young  farmers through ecotourism ventures like homestays and artisan food production, to help them diversify their livelihoods while staying grounded in their agricultural and spiritual traditions. COVID-19, however, has dampened those efforts. 

“Tourism revenues are in trouble, but then tourism is a supplementary income rather than a main income for us,” says Nando, who has started serving as Head of Village Government in Detusoko Barat Village.  “We are focusing on things we can do now: developing village products, creating jobs related to infrastructure, and distributing help for those who need it.”  

In collaboration with the Department of Tourism and Universitas Flores, Nando is investing in capacity-building for homestay owners, guides, farmers, and other professionals so that Decotourism is ready when travellers return. 

The government is also funding jobs in local infrastructure improvements such as for roads, irrigation, pools for hot springs, and villages displaying traditional homes, while providing social security to many of the villagers during the pandemic. 

Nando also still occasionally handles a trickle of guests for Mount Kelimutu National Park, which currently allows a quota of 200 visitors per day with strict COVID-19 protocols, and regularly schedules fortnight-long closings for clean-ups and disinfection of indoor spaces.

But hope in physical travel does not mean not using technology to innovate. Since the pandemic, RMC has been marketing local produce to customers in Ende and Maumere via WhatsApp. 

The village administration also runs a Decotourism online shop where guests can book tours in Detusoko and Kelimutu, and buy coffee and condiments. Launched in late 2020, the online shop is primarily designed for Indonesian consumers, but an English site enabling payment via major credit cards and PayPal is in the works.

Not everything in the Decotourism store is suitable for shopping; perhaps a testament to the fact that some things can only be experienced in person. And both Decotourism and Lakoat.Kujuwas stand posted to receive guests, when borders open once more.

THE DIFFERENCE YOU MAKE

By signing up for a Lakoat.Kujawas virtual tour, you can support the sharing and archiving of Mollo Timorese knowledge in agriculture and food preservation, as well as the continuation of their practices. This will put Lakoat.Kujawas on steadier footing to bring back community-owned sustainable tourism when leisure travel resumes. 

Shopping on Decotourism’s online store would support the economic empowerment of rural communities around Mount Kelimutu, and help RMC Detusoko further its mission to dispel the stereotype that there are no sustainable economic prospects in village life.

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From running a virtual tour to launching an online store, two rural communities in Indonesia find new ways to cope when tourism income dried up amid COVID-19
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At the time of publishing this story, COVID-19 cases globally continue to rise, and international travel — even domestic travel in some cases — has been restricted for public health reasons. During this time, consider exploring the world differently: discover new ways you can support communities in your favourite destinations, and bookmark them for future trips when borders reopen.

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‘We are a people of the gathering’

Dicky is the co-founder of Lakoat.Kujawas, a social enterprise preserving the culture of Mollo Timorese through the arts and culinary innovation.

Based in Taiftob, Lakoat.Kujawas is a social enterprise that archives the cultural knowledge of Mollo Timorese through literacy, creative arts and culinary innovation.

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“Middle school teachers complained to me that some of their students could hardly read. This surprised me— it was common in my 1990s childhood, but the fact that this was still the case in the mid-2010s bothered me. There are more kids now, but the quality of education and social progress here [in Taiftob] hadn’t improved.

Having worked in Kupang and Yogyakarta before, I collected books. I opened a library [in Taiftob] so that kids here can read. And I wrote a proposal telling people about my dream to build a gathering space for local children to engage in creative collaborations.

In July 2016, I was helping my father harvest loquats and guavas at the end of the season. The name Lakoat.Kujawas came to me in an instant. These fruits tug at my childhood memories. This name represents the hopes of a village child to live a better life at home, carrying the happy memories things like loquats and guavas make.

I intended Lakoat.Kujawas to cater to children. But in 2017, parents approached me. ‘Dicky, we want to join. What fun our kids are having with all these English classes, dance classes, and wonderful activities!’

I wasn’t prepared for an adult Lakoat.Kujawas, but came to understand why these parents wanted in. We, Orang Mollo, are a people of the gathering. We called our gatherings elaf. Elaf is about celebrations, coming together and fostering interpersonal relationships. It’s a moment where people meet and hear the spoken word, tales, and genealogies.

Harvest thanksgivings, and rituals held in wellsprings and rock towers make the space in which cultural knowledge is transmitted intergenerationally. When elaf is missing, the stories of our people lack the space to tell them.

I never imagined Lakoat.Kujawas becoming a travel experience. But as our work archiving our cultural knowledge came together like pieces of a puzzle, we came to realise that we have stories, values and philosophies that outsiders appreciate. 

At Lakoat.Kujawas we continue to grow and nurture the spirit of solidarity and collaboration, which are increasingly scarce. Our spirit is not project-based — it’s an elaf spirit that restores our cultural spaces with dignity."

Read more about Lakoat.Kujawas

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Dicky is the co-founder of Lakoat.Kujawas, a social enterprise preserving the culture of Mollo Timorese through the arts and culinary innovation.
Dicky Senda is the co-founder of Lakoat.Kujawas, a social enterprise preserving the culture of Mollo Timorese through the arts and culinary innovation.
‘We are a people of the gathering’

Celebrate! A Mollo gathering of arts and food

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Support Lakoat.Kujawas and Decotourism

Lakoat.Kujawas rekindles knowledge of Timor’s Mollo highlands through creative arts and food.
Celebrate! A Mollo gathering of arts and food
Celebrate! A Mollo gathering of arts and food
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In Timor’s Mollo highlands, life-giving waters, rocks and trees — and their devoted guardian clans — flourish. Lakoat.Kujawas rekindles intimate knowledge of this land through creative arts and food.

MEET DICKY AND LAKOAT.KUJAWAS

“We, Orang Mollo, are a people of gatherings,” says Christianto “Dicky” Senda. “We called our gatherings elaf. It’s a moment where people meet and hear the spoken word, tales, and genealogies.”

Elaf came to life before my eyes, writ large in the form of a celebration marking Indonesia’s Independence Day, where, with the state’s blessing, North Mollo residents dressed up and performed traditional songs and dances at a talent show in Kapan Square, the district’s centre.

But nearby, another celebration was taking place: an exhibition of photography by 11- to 15-year-olds; and the launch of a book of poems by To The Lighthouse, a writing club at Kapan’s St Yoseph Freinademetz Catholic Middle School. Under a flowering tree by the bonfire, a youth choir harmonised. 

“These teenagers are making contributions to this village,” observes Father Jeremias “Romo Jimmy” Kewohon, principal of St Yoseph, with pride. He credits this creative revival among his students to Lakoat.Kujawas, a Timorese literacy centre and social enterprise founded by Dicky. 

Now, Lakoat.Kujawas also welcomes travellers to explore this corner of South Central Timor, in Indonesia’s East Nusa Tenggara (NTT) province.

CELEBRATING TRADITIONS

A former student guidance counsellor in Yogyakarta and Kupang, Dicky started writing stories inspired by Timorese fairy tales from his childhood. The need to conduct research for his books, and care for his ailing father compelled Dicky to move home to North Mollo’s Taiftob village in 2016.

Upon his return, Dicky saw that Mollo hadn’t changed much since his childhood. Children still had little access to educational playtime. Meanwhile, knowledge of Timorese oral tradition, indigenous spirituality, guardianship of natural resources, Timorese cuisine, and tenun (handwoven textiles) was dwindling. 

“Lately, festivities, rituals, and harvest thanksgivings are not happening anymore,” says Dicky. “Without elaf, we’re deprived of spaces for telling our stories.”

So Dicky opened a library — a little elaf space for North Mollo children. It has since hosted English classes, a writing club, dance workshops, photography projects, music rehearsals, and a residency for visiting creative professionals.

Eventually, adults who miss their elaf joined in too. Working with local schools and creative youth communities, Lakoat.Kujawas now brings back the arts into everyday life for Orang Mollo (Bahasa Indonesia for the Mollo people), while recording them for future generations. 

CELEBRATING HERITAGE

“We are our world. Soil cover our land like our skin. 
Water flows through the land like our blood
The stones holding the land together are our bones
The forest moving with the wind is our hair.
We are our world.”

A Mollo philosophy

Dubbed “the heart of Timor,” North Mollo’s Mount Mutis is the source of four major Timorese rivers, with diverse ecosystems like bonsai forests, eucalyptus woodlands and horse-grazed meadows.

Travel experiences to Mollo were not on Dicky’s mind when he started Lakoat.Kujawas. The venture into tourism — focusing on heritage trails, culinary products, and tenun textiles — happened in response to outsiders’ appreciation for his community’s creative revival. 

Hence, once a month, from January to August, Lakoat.Kujawas runs the M’nahat Fe’u Heritage Trail, which are guided trips introducing travellers to North Mollo’s natural landscapes, culture, and food.  

M’nahat fe’u, which means “new food” in Dawan language, is a harvest elaf, and each trip varies according to the harvest of the season. 

I was lucky enough to join the last trip of the year, which kicked off with a satisfying breakfast prepared by Lakoat.Kujawas members: black beans, steamed yams and coconut sweetened with palm sugar syrup, and pumpkin cake with marmalade. This was served with coffee (including a robusta blended with pumpkinseed), sweet fruity cascara tea made from coffee cherries husks, and loquat leaf tea.

Guiding this tour is Willy Oematan, who takes us to the Oematan wellsprings, introducing native plants and related rituals along the way. The Oematans are a revered Mollo clan traditionally designated as guardians of water sources, with their rituals being passed down through strict protocols. 

From there, we hiked up Napjam Rock, where Lakoat.Kujawas members were cooking jagung bose maize porridge and broadbean stew over bonfires. Banana leaves became a picnic blanket set with palm leaf trays and claypots of Timorese dishes: smoked beef (seʼi), sweet-spicy chili-tomato relish (sambal lu’at), baked purple yams, cassava leaves in roasted pumpkinseed sauce, and a vegetable flower stir-fry.

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Members of music collective Forum Soe Peduli lead a communal singalong as a prelude to lunch, and Dicky served consenting guests sopi lakoat: loquat-infused Timorese palm wine garnished with dried fruit. 

Sopi, he shares, has cultural importance as a gesture of peace and camaraderie, and economic importance as a commodity that affords some Timorese families an education.

CELEBRATING LIVELIHOODS

Homegrown Mollo cuisine is a major component of the Lakoat.Kujawas brand. On the day before I joined the heritage trail, Marlinda Nau, a farmer and member of Lakoat.Kujawas, welcomes me with a bountiful display of fresh produce.  

With a basket in hand, I follow the cooks to a pink flowering tree called gamal (Gliricidia sepium). At a distance, they could be mistaken for cherry blossoms.

Whack! Someone climbs the tree and chops off a branch. Petals fall like confetti. The flowers, I learn, were a seasonal Timorese vegetable before it fell out of favour to commercially-grown vegetables. 

“Lakoat.Kujawas gives us the space to revive our traditional agricultural knowledge and innovate our homegrown food,” says Marlinda. 

Her husband Willy adds that Taiftob produces more carrots than people can eat, so they sell some to middlemen at unfairly low prices. “Now, we make carrot noodles and carrot-based snacks. Our produce gets consumed, and we save money otherwise spent on children’s snacks,” says Willy.

“In Mollo, we joke that we sell our organic fruits and vegetables, and buy instant noodles and cookies instead. We used to think what we have at home isn’t important. But now we know better and we laugh because it’s ridiculous.”

Dicky Senda Co-founder, Lakoat.Kujawas

Tenun handwoven textiles is another aspect of Timorese culture Lakoat.Kujawas strives to preserve. This ancient craft involves the weaving of coloured threads into complex motifs, requiring imagination, meticulous hand-eye coordination, and patience. 

In Nusa Tenggara society, tenun is a marker of a person’s social status, clan kinship and geographical origin. Today, tenun is also a profitable commodity marketed to travellers, fashionistas and collectors.

A prominent Lakoat.Kujawas weaver is Amelia Koi, who runs a family collective comprising her six daughters. “It’s hard to find young ones interested in tenun, so I teach mine,” says Amelia, who has them fully trained by age 11. 

The girls stay in school until they graduate their final year of secondary school, around age 18 or 19. Although none attended university, her elder daughters are financially independent and experienced weavers.

Months earlier, I ordered a tenun backpack from a Yogyakarta-based brand that partners with Lakoat.Kujawas. The tenun is Amelia’s. “The work of my hand has returned ,” says Amelia, recognising the bag (pictured below). “My textiles travel further than I do. It feels that a piece of me travels along.”

Amelia holds a tenun backpack from a Yogyakarta-based brand that partners with Lakoat.Kujawas to incorporate tenun into their pieces. The tenun is by Amelia.

My trip culminates in a march with thousands of North Mollo residents in Kapan’s Independence Eve Parade, many dressed in tenun as a statement of their local identity. But even as the most festive occasion of the year comes to an end, elaf is never over at Lakoat.Kujawas. 

Says Dicky: “At Lakoat.Kujawas, we continue to grow and nurture… Our spirit is not project-based — it’s an elaf spirit that restores our cultural spaces with dignity.”

THE DIFFERENCE YOU MAKE

Lakoat.Kujawas runs seasonal single day tours, as well as creative residencies and Timorese food workshops. Bookings must be made in advance. 

When you book a tour with Lakoat.Kujawas, or shop via their social media accounts, you help to fund local children’s educational programmes like the To The Lighthouse writing club, photography exhibitions, and performing arts productions — activities that are otherwise scarce in rural Timor.

Revenues from the Lakoat.Kujawas tours, artisan food production, and tenun partnerships fund the Lakoat.Kujawas cooperative, which is a source of income for adult members. 

The cooperative is designing a collective savings programme, which they hope will someday help Lakoat.Kujawas families fund their children’s higher education, or support them through hard times.

Meet Dicky of Lakoat.Kujawas

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In Long Semadoh, see a world in a grain of rice

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Visit Langit Collective 

Farm-to-table meals? Long Semadoh has it all, from the chance to try rice farming, taste some truly amazing rice, and learn about the culture behind every bite.
Farm-to-table meals? Long Semadoh has it all, from the chance to try rice farming, taste some truly amazing rice, and learn about the culture behind every bite.
In Long Semadoh, see a world in a grain of rice
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With Langit Collective, farm-to-table is no mere fashionable dining concept — it is a movement that empowers one of the world’s most remote farming communities. Travel with Langit to beautiful Long Semadoh for a taste of not only some of the world’s most amazing rice, but also the culture behind every bite. 

MEET AUNTY RIBED

Only half an hour in, and my back is screaming. 

Wiping away the sweat dribbling down my face, I cast an admiring glance at Aunty Ribed’s fast, steady movements. She has been working at the rice field since dawn, yet she’s barely breaking a sweat. And she’s 20 years my senior.

Ruefully, I return my attention to the bunch of seedlings in my hands, only to lose balance and fall backwards into the quicksand-like mud — for the third time. My clothes (as well as my face) are completely soiled. I know I am a comical sight, but I am reluctant to get up. Wrapped in the cooling thick mud, surrounded by sweeping paddy fields and the most amazing mountain views, this feels like a mud spa, only a million times nicer. 

Maybe being a rice farmer isn’t my life calling. But for a spell, it sure is fun.

LONG SEMADOH - LOST TO THE WORLD

Hapless visitors like myself can now try their hand at rice farming thanks to Langit Collective, a social enterprise that partners with communities in Long Semadoh to offer an experiential tour and homestay.

Never heard of Long Semadoh? You’re not alone. The forest-covered East Malaysian state of Sarawak is full of unexplored raw gems and Long Semadoh valley is unknown even to seasoned travellers like myself.

Snaking across the Lawas Highlands at 3,000ft above sea level, Long Semadoh valley is a strip of seven quaint villages populated predominantly by Lun Bawang, an indigenous tribe of hunter-gatherers turned agrarians. Nourished by crisp mountain air, pristine streams and a temperate climate, Long Semadoh is home to some of the world’s best produce, notably heirloom rice varietals unique to this region.

“I was told that some of the herbs that grow wild here are much sought after by top chefs in Kuala Lumpur. That's why I said to my siblings in the city, ‘balik kampung’ (going home). The land here is fertile and bountiful.”

Aunty Ribed Rice farmer and Langit Collective homestay host

While ideal for agriculture and country life, Long Semadoh’s remoteness leaves the community disadvantaged in other ways. Out of seven villages in the valley, only three have electricity. The main form of communication is walkie-talkie because phone connectivity is spotty. Internet is practically non-existent.

Getting to Long Semadoh from Kuala Lumpur involves two plane rides and a bumpy four-hour 4WD drive up a landslide-prone logging trail that once prompted a visitor to ask: “Is it a road or buffalo trail?”

ENTER LANGIT COLLECTIVE

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Langit’s story began when Lilian Chen, Chan Zi Xiang, Melisa Lim and Chia Yong Ling — a chiropractor, actuary, media producer and designer respectively — were building gravity-fed water systems in rural Sarawak. They got to know the folks of Long Semadoh — as well as their amazing rice.

“With its bold earthy flavours and distinctive bite, it was the best rice we’d eaten in our lives!” exclaims Lilian. “When we told them we couldn’t finish all that rice, they said, ‘Never mind, we will feed it to our chickens and dogs.’ 

“We were horrified! Digging deeper, we realised the farmers couldn’t convert their excess rice into income because of their remote location.”

Long Semadoh farmers have to fork out large sums of money to transport both themselves as well as their rice to Lawas, the nearest town. “Once we get there, we have to compete with other rice producers, for a pittance in return,” says Aunty Ribed. “And the road to Lawas was teruk (terrible). If it rains, the 4WD vehicle gets stuck in the mud and passengers have to get down and push it.”  

With dismal economic prospects, the younger generation have been forced to abandon their homes to work in the cities, leaving the farms to the care of their elders, but this leads to a catch-22. “Youths from rural villages do not necessarily have the social capital or competitiveness of an urban person, so they end up working odd jobs,” observes Lilian.

To break this vicious cycle, the four friends created Langit Collective. The social enterprise buys the Long Semadoh farmers’ excess rice at a fair price and sells it on their online platform, and to retailers and chefs in Peninsular Malaysia. 

Thirty-five per cent of the retail proceeds go to the farmers. After deducting costs, the remainder  is re-invested into capacity-building courses for the farmers, especially in sustainable farming, to meet the demand for organic rice.

Additional jobs are created along the supply chain. Once the rice is harvested, local transporters hired by Langit pick up the rice from the farmers’ doorsteps and bring the produce to town, where local women vacuum-pack the products before they are shipped to Peninsular Malaysia.

Langit’s work has seen success. But the founders thought the enterprise could go further —  through an experiential tour providing curiosity-seekers the opportunity to shadow traditional rice farmers in an authentic community, while instilling a sense of pride in the Long Semadoh folks. 

And so, Langit Experience was born.

A FORGOTTEN CULTURE

Depending on the time of the year, you can sign up to experience rice planting or rice harvesting (and of course eating it together with delicious home-cooked Lun Bawang meals) with the Langit team as your guides.

Though rice farming is a significant part of the trips, you will also be able to explore the village and get to know Long Semadoh’s history while basking in its natural beauty.

In the wake of British colonisation at the turn of the 20th century, Christianity brought gentrification and town planning into the Lun Bawang community, who had already moved out of traditional longhouses into concrete and wooden houses.

But in the process, many Lun Bawang beliefs and traditions became lost. “Some of the older generation see pre-Christianity activities such as head-hunting as something to be ashamed of. I feel it’s a pity, because it’s part of their history,” says Zi, one of the Langit founders. 

Langit has tried to bring what little cultural information they have unearthed into the experiential tour. A day before we hit the fields, we go on a leisurely “kampung (village) tour” that includes a trek past an old airport field leading to a former buaya tanah (crocodile mound), where Lun Bawang warriors celebrated for seven days and nights after a successful headhunting expedition. 

A scenic hanging bridge takes us to possibly the only existing Lun Bawang animistic cemetery, where a pile of human skulls and ancestral jars lies under a giant tree.

Along the way, Zi and Lilian entertain us with tales of Lun Bawang mythical figures such as Upai Semaring, a giant who could cross a nearby river in a single bound. From their passion and enthusiasm, it is clear to me how Langit’s investment in Long Semadoh is more than just business. In fact, the founders have their own Lun Bawang names: Gituen (Lilian), Aco (Zi), Bulan (Melisa) and Udan (Yong Ling).

PLAYING FARMER

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After the history lesson, it’s time to get down and dirty.

From the back of Aunty Ribed’s house, we make our way to the fields dressed in long-sleeved shirts, long pants tucked into football socks, rubber shoes and wide-brimmed hats. The coverage is necessary to avoid sunburn and chafing from tall rushes.

Following Aunty’s lead, we wade into the muddy paddock and pull out the seedlings that were planted here. We transport the seedlings on a wheelbarrow to another field, where the real work begins: bending at the waist to stick the seedlings into the muddy earth. 

The fields have been “fertilised” by buffaloes: After each harvest, water buffaloes are released to the paddy fields to graze on rice stumps and weeds and clear it for the next planting season. They also help to fertilise the fields – by pooping.

Unlike us, the buffalo have done their job, and have ambled off to escape the sun. “Buffaloes have the best life in Long Semadoh. They literally just poop, eat and siesta!” exclaims Lilian.

As we work side by side, Aunty shares her knowledge of birds and insects which control pest invasions and diseases, stresses the importance of fallow periods — letting land recover between cultivation — and crop rotation to continue the fertility of the land, and shows us a primitive yet efficient irrigation system that connects all the paddy fields. 

She may not use any high-tech equipment or fancy terms, but in my opinion, she is as good as any scientist.

It is twilight by the time we get back to the house for dinner. A true farm-to-table feast whipped up by resident chef Zi awaits us: kung pow “escargot” from snails caught from the paddy fields, scrambled eggs with brinjals from the forest, curry chicken made from birds that Aunty reared herself, and for dessert, “sorbet” made from blended local pineapples. 

They are all delicious, but our unanimous favourite is the humble rice that has transformed our perspective forever.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

I opt out of paddy planting the next day, leaving my fitter compatriots to contribute their brawn. This is not a boot camp; you’re free to experience the activities at your own pace. 

Finding a cool spot under a tree, I take a moment to contemplate the misty mountains in the distance, and the fertile fields all around me. The poetic setting would make a great yoga or writer’s retreat, but there are no tourists here other than us.

My eyes fall on Aunty Ribed. Spending time with her has taught me that to grow things that nourish, one needs patience; nothing comes easy. She understands the frailty of life, the rewards of hard work and the humility to accept what she cannot control.

There is so much we can learn from the farmers of Long Semadoh — rice is only the beginning.

Langit Collective is among the alumni of the Young Social Entrepreneur (YSE) programme by Singapore International Foundation, which provides mentorship, networking opportunities and a grant. In 2019, it landed the DBSF x SIF Social Impact Prize which is given out to YSE alumni who have shown sustained achievements after the programme.

The difference you make

Of the trip fees, 66 per cent goes towards the host family and other costs, including a fee for Langit’s founders, who act as guides. The remainder goes to Langit as profit. 

The cut that the host family and other service providers receive is a valuable supplement to their earnings, and helps create an incentive amongst the younger generation to stay on in Long Semadoh, instead of moving to bigger cities just to take up odd jobs. 

Langit currently works with one host family but hopes to grow this network, depending on the readiness of the households and traveller demand.

‘Bring back the vibrancy of our kampung’

Ribed Balang

Langit Collective is a social enterprise that empowers smallholder farmers by buying their rice at fair prices to sell to a bigger market. Now, they offer trips where consumers can learn about the culture behind every grain, and create an additional income stream to farmers. 

Ribed Balang
Langit Collective
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“After serving many years in the police force, my husband Liun was transferred to Long Semadoh Naseb for his last posting. This is also his birthplace, so when he retired, it made sense for us to buy a piece of land here to do rice planting. Both of us are from farming families, like most people in Long Semadoh. Liun was a bit of a rebel though – at 18, he ran away from home to pursue his dream of becoming a policeman!

I was very happy to come back to the kampung (village). City life is tough. If you have no money you cannot survive. Here, I only have to buy sugar and salt and go to town once a month for other supplies. I plant what I want to eat and forage for food when I go jalan-jalan ((Bahasa Melayu for walking) in the jungle. There are many types of plants in the forest. 

I was told that some of the herbs that grow wild here are much sought after by top chefs in Kuala Lumpur. That's why I said to my siblings in the city, ‘balik kampung (going home)’. The land here is fertile and bountiful.

In the past, outsiders have approached us to set up a farm and grow vegetables, fruits, and coffee. We did what they asked, but when we brought our produce down to Lawas, there was nobody to help us sell it. Eventually we had to discard the produce. Having learnt our lesson, we decided to plant for our own consumption.

It was the same for rice. We would try to sell our excess rice in Lawas. The price goes up and down depending on the competition. Sometimes, each gantang (equivalent to 3.5kg) only fetched RM17 (US$4), which was barely enough to cover transportation cost. 

And the road to Lawas was teruk (terrible). If it rains, the 4WD vehicle gets stuck in the mud and passengers have to get down and push it. We prefer to save ourselves the grief and feed the excess rice to our chickens and dogs.

We met Gituen, Aco, Bulan and Udan (Lun Bawang names for the Langit founders) in 2015 when they were doing NGO work for the community. From our interaction, I could tell that they are clever and sincere. They don’t just talk or give orders but spend time to understand the community and our challenges. Gituen and Aco even brought their mothers to try their hand at rice farming!

We were the first people who sold rice to Langit. Why not? They gave us a good price and collected the rice from our doorstep. I told other friends who were also looking for buyers for their extra rice. Not everyone is eligible, though, because Langit only wants rice that isn't sprayed (with pesticides).

We did not use ubat (medicine; in this case referring to pesticides)  in the past, but a few years ago, those outsiders who asked us to plant and sell paddy told us that our paddy has a lot of diseases. They also gave us ubat to spray.

Since signing up with Langit, we have stopped spraying our plants. Aco told us the spray is killing ourselves.

The income from the rice sales enables us to buy daily household items like handicrafts, mattresses that we use for the homestay. We have seen the sales go up year on year. This year, the kampung as a whole sold 300 gunnies, up from 100 the previous year.

We like having people around, now that our children have grown up and work elsewhere, though they come back for the holidays. If the rice business takes off and our youths see many people here again, perhaps they will think about staying for the long term.

Read more about Langit Collective

Meet Lilian and Zi of Langit Collective

Article contributors
Ribed is a farmer and homestay host with Langit Collective, which empowers smallholder farmers by buying their rice at fair prices to sell to bigger markets.
Aunty Ribed, standing in front of a paddy field in Long Semadoh, Sarawak
‘Bring back the vibrancy of our kampung’

‘You can’t rush community work’

Lilian Chen and Chan Zi Xiang

Langit Collective is a social enterprise that empowers smallholder farmers by buying their rice at fair prices to sell to a bigger market. Now, they offer trips where consumers can learn about the culture behind every grain, and create an additional income stream for farmers. 

Lilian Chen and Chan Zi Xiang
Langit Collective
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“When we were building water pipes for an NGO previously, we saw the huge gap between rural and urban areas. Deep down, we wanted to do something beyond infrastructure building and economic projects — find one thing that the whole area can hype and build on as an economy driver.

We never had an answer until we came to Long Semadoh. We tried the amazing rice and wondered how come we've never heard of it in the market. Then we saw the challenges they faced in selling their rice. So we thought maybe helping them with market linkage can be an answer.

We started with 30kg of rice which we hand-carried and packed into jute bags and sold as Christmas gifts in December 2015. After that we decided to formalise it by setting up Langit Collective. An NGO was out of the question because we don't want to rely on handouts. We just went and registered as a social enterprise, that’s it. Four dreamers.

We did a four-month accelerator course from ideation to business-ready stage in MaGIC (Malaysian Global Innovation and Creativity Centre). It was eye-opening for the four of us who had no business background.

A lot of people give us ideas. You must push the farmers, scale up, change seeds, use this and that technology etc. But when you spend enough time with the farmers working the fields, you realise they have their own kind of wisdom. Wisdom they may not teach us simply because they don’t know they have it, or how precious it is. 

For example, when they observe the interplay of different natural elements, it hits you that the human is the most powerful probe and IOT (Internet of Things). It is only when your feet are stuck in the mud, that you begin to observe, hmm this mud is a bit harder, hmm this feels fertile. You can tell because you've gone to enough paddy fields to know the difference.

You can’t rush community work because it is all about relationship building. We started off with only Uncle Liun, Auntie Annie and Aunty Rumie who were crazy enough to believe in us. 

Once you get a local influencer convinced, your battle gets a little easier because you now have a ‘mouthpiece’ who understands enough about what you do to tell others about it. 

From three model farmers, we have expanded to over 40 farmers throughout the valley. Now when the other farmers see us, they stop us and ask, 'how is your yield?' You're finally talking farmer to farmer. And it’s such a satisfying pat on the back.”

Read more about Langit Collective

Meet Ribed of Langit Collective

Langit Collective is among the alumni of the Young Social Entrepreneur (YSE) programme by Singapore International Foundation, which provides mentorship, networking opportunities and a grant. In 2019, it landed the DBSF x SIF Social Impact Prize which is given out to YSE alumni who have shown sustained achievements after the programme.

Article contributors
Lilian and Zi are co-founders of Langit Collective, which empowers smallholder farmers by buying their rice at fair prices to sell to bigger markets.
Lilian and Zi are co-founders of Langit Collective, which empowers smallholder farmers by buying their rice at fair prices to sell to bigger markets.
‘You can’t rush community work’

A friendly home in the land of kings

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Visit Orchha

Orchha is a laid-back town rich in royal history and monuments. Explore its majestic past, and help rural communities nearby build fresh livelihoods through tourism.
A friendly home in the land of kings
A friendly home in the land of kings
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Dotted with ornate palaces, forts and tombs, Orchha is a laid-back town rich in royal history. Explore its majestic past, and let your stay help rural communities nearby build fresh livelihoods through tourism.  

MEET KUSUM AND HAVI  

For Kusum and Havi Kushwaha, rain — or its absence — once had great significance. 

“We are a family that survives on farming. We consume what we grow. If there is a surplus, we sell it in the market, but that’s quite rare,” says Kusum.

“It is tough because our survival depends on rainfall and Orchha is a drought-prone area.” 

These days, the couple, who have three grown children, breathe a little easier even when the weather doesn’t favour the crops.  

As part of travel enterprise Friends of Orchha, they’ve added a sustainable source of income by opening their home to travellers who are drawn to Orchha by its stunning palaces and temples — away from the crowds that throng more famous towns.

TOURISM DONE RIGHT 

If you don’t want to be hustled around in a robotic manner while checking off a bucket list, then Orchha is the place for you. 

If you crave being able to time travel to an era when kings and queens strode through majestic halls, and vicariously relive their myths and history, then Orchha is the place for you.

Realising Orchha’s potential to draw intrepid travellers, sociologist Asha D’Souza set up Friends of Orchha in 2009 to ride on these charms to improve the livelihoods of locals. 

A well-travelled native of  Madhya Pradesh — Orchha’s home state — Asha had seen the devastating poverty and famine unleashed upon the villages that dot the drought-prone parts of the state.

Beginning with just two families in the village of Ganj, Friends of Orchha provided seed investment to them to construct a room and an external bathroom for travellers in their courtyards. 

Today, the non-profit has six host families in their network, including the Kushwahas. “When Asha met and spoke to us some years ago suggesting the idea of a homestay, it made sense, though we were a little sceptical,” says Kusum.  

“But some other families had already been hosting tourists and it seemed like it was helping them — financially, at least. And it has for us too.”

Friends of Orchha’s seed investment is repaid through a revenue-share model for income earned from providing accommodation. The host families keep all of the income earned from providing meals and other services. 

In total, Friends of Orchha can accommodate up to 25 guests at a time across eight rooms offered by the six host families. 

Romi Samele, who took over the management and operations from Asha, maintains, “Though we are not opposed to it, we don’t want to increase the number of host families for the sake of scaling up.

“We would rather ensure that every family earns sufficiently every month all year through rather than only during the peak season.” 

OFF THE BEATEN PATH, INTO THE 16TH CENTURY 

Though rich in history and conveniently sandwiched between the tourist-thronged cities of Agra and Khajuraho, Orchha has remained largely off the tourist radar.

But it has gradually gone from being a mere lunch stop to a destination in its own right, with more visitors now choosing to spend the night to savour the sights at their own pace. 

Among them is the Orchha Fort Complex,  which houses three palaces — Raja Mahal, Jahangir Mahal and Rai Parveen Mahal — and two temples.  Each monument is a story.

The ornate Jahangir Mahal, combining Rajput and Mughal architecture, was built by King Bir Singh Deo as a gesture of solidarity towards the Mughal ruler Jahangir — who is believed to have stayed at the palace for only one night. The Raja Mahal, once the official residence of the Bundeli kings, took 30 years to build, and takes on a different mood by night, lit by a sound-and-light show.  

Outside the fort walls, cenotaphs stand along the banks of the Betwa river, a glorious sight at sunset. Travellers can also spend a day exploring the countryside on foot, and Friends of Orchha can organise picnics along the banks of the river. 

FRIENDSHIPS THAT CHANGE LIVES 

Despite the appearance of 4G connectivity and a fresh crop of hotels, Orchha retains its well-deserved spot in the hearts of slow travellers, with none of the overtourism seen in other destinations. 

And Ganj, four years after my first visit, has not degenerated into a destination overrun by touts and pandering to tourists. 

Locals, too, enjoy the interaction across borders. “Some tourists who stayed with us have helped my kids with their homework, especially in English and Math,” says Kiran, another host under Friends of Orchha. 

She quips, “My children speak more comfortably in English.” 

Besides developing livelihoods through tourism, Friends of Orchha has invested in the education of the children from the host families. 

The children attend private English- or Hindi-medium schools and their language skills have proven to be a bonus to their families, breaking down communication barriers with guests.   

Returning to Ganj had filled me with trepidation over whether it would have changed for the worse. But Friends of Orchha has shown that it can manage tourism in a way that positively impacts local stakeholders, while enriching travellers’ with a truly cross-cultural experience.

I am glad I returned.

THE DIFFERENCE YOU MAKE

A stay with the warm and friendly hosts of Friends of Orchha helps them earn a sustainable income to support their families. 

The revenue from providing accommodation is shared between Friends of Orchha and the families, while the families keep everything earned from providing meals and other services.