In Langscape Magazine Articles

A Journey into the Heart of Dayak Farming

October 23, 2024
After two decades in the city, a young Dayak woman reconnects with the land and the traditional farming practices of her ancestors.

WORDS AND IMAGES Sumarni Laman

Pak Ramba

Pak Ramba tending his ladang, the Dayak farm, in Pilang village, Pulang Pisau Regency, Borneo.

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At the heart of the Dayak Ngaju community of Borneo lies a farming tradition deeply intertwined with nature — a practice so harmonious that it forms a spiritual connection between the people and the land they cultivate. For me, this tradition isn’t just a distant memory; it is a vivid image from my childhood days spent on the ladang, the Dayak farm.

I grew up in a farming family, but moving to the city shifted our lives, and our connection to the soil became a distant echo. However, an invitation from an Indigenous Elder, Bue Iber, to visit his farm in Pilang village stirred a deep longing within me. The prospect of reconnecting with my roots after two decades in the city filled me with anticipation.

The journey to Pilang village in Pulang Pisau Regency was an adventure in itself. Riding on a motorbike with my friend, I enjoyed the view of the varied scenery of the landscape from the green lush forest to the red kalakai (Stenochlaena palustris) to the fern fields that grow in the previously burned, degraded peatland along the road.

When we arrived at the dock in Pilang village after an hour’s journey, I was greeted by Bue Iber’s son, Pak Ramba, who would take us to the farm in a small wooden boat. The tana, or farm, nestled in the forest, awaited us on the other side of the river.

A Dayak mountain farm

A Dayak mountain farm in Gunung Karasik.

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As we arrived on the farm, a wave of awe washed over me. Bue Iber’s land was a vibrant tapestry of numerous crops, not just paddies: taro, yam, pumpkin, ginger, and other crops, each adding its own touch of beauty and purpose to the landscape. His farm was also surrounded by towering trees, and I could hear the melodic voices of various birds and monkeys living there, creating nature’s symphony.

Fire is an essential part of traditional Dayak farming.

After planting paddies, we took respite in Bue Iber’s pasha, a small wooden house on a farm. As we waited for the meal to be prepared, we sat with Bue Iber and Pak Ramba, absorbing their deep wisdom about Dayak farming practices. They said that things should be done at the right time and place. They carefully select the date to begin seeding and the specific location to plant based on careful observation of their ecosystem and the presence of certain animals and plants. For example, bungur (Lagerstroemia speciosa), suna (a leafy green vegetable), and jajangkit (a type of tree) usually grow in fertile soils so their presence in an area indicates good farmland.

A bountiful harvest

A bountiful harvest of diverse local crops from Pak Ramba’s farm.

Our conversation then delved into the spiritual essence of Dayak farming. Before clearing the forest to start farming, the Dayak people perform the Mangariau ritual to offer prayers to the spirits of the forest guards, requesting them to relocate. Mangariau is performed on small arable land, whereas the Manyanggar ritual is conducted on larger fertile lands, involving the offering of pigs or cows.

Fire is an essential part of traditional Dayak farming. The community believes that small-scale slash-and-burn practices can enhance soil fertility and manage the energy within their ecosystems. They apply fire with high frequency but low intensity, which helps to release energy and maintain the balance of their environment. This farming tradition has been upheld for centuries; however, modern regulations prohibiting these practices disrupted Dayak communities. In Pilang, farming came to a standstill for years, impacting lives and traditions, as farming has been the backbone of their livelihood. The ban led to the loss of local seeds, especially rice, that were cultivated using fire.

Small-scale slash-and-burn practices can enhance soil fertility and manage the energy within the ecosystem.

The restriction of fire also led to an accumulation of energy within the ecosystem. This situation is exacerbated by climate change, which acts as a catalyst, making ecosystems — particularly those in peatland areas — more susceptible to high-intensity fires. Pilang, in particular, has become a hotspot for such fires, highlighting the critical need for a re-evaluation of fire management practices that respect Indigenous knowledge and promote ecological resilience.

In 2018, after many years of advocacy and lobbying, the local government in my province of Central Kalimantan issued a local regulation that allowed Indigenous Dayak people to use controlled fires for small-scale traditional farming in non-peatland areas. This regulation rekindled hope within the community and gave people the courage to return to farming.

Trees decompose after slash-and-burn practices.

Trees decompose after slash-and-burn practices, enriching the soil for planting.

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During my visit to Bue Iber’s farm, we spent full days working the soil and tending to the crops. As each day drew to a close, the call of the bubut (Centropus sinensis) became a familiar signal to return home. It acted as a natural signal, much like the ebb and flow of the tides. Upon hearing the bird’s distinctive call, we quickly gathered our tools and hurried back to our boat, mindful of the rising tide that could soon envelop the shore.

As twilight descended, painting the sky with vibrant shades of orange, pink, and purple, I found myself reflecting on my experiences throughout the day. The beauty of the changing colors in the sky above me seemed to mirror my own inner transformation; I was leaving the farm and returning back to Palangka Raya, the capital and largest city of Central Kalimantan, with a newly found understanding of my Indigenous farming practices.

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Hungering for an even deeper understanding, I traveled further east to the Dayak Ma’ayan community in Gunung Karasik village, East Barito Regency. I was guided by Ibu Mardiana, an Indigenous Elder and women’s leader. The journey was quite different from the trip to Pilang village as I needed to hike a mountain to where the Ma’ayan community tilled their ladang.

Ibu Mardiana, an esteemed Dayak Elder

Ibu Mardiana, an esteemed Elder from the Dayak Ma’ayan community, harvests vegetables from her hill farm. The community farms on the mountain slopes of Gunung Karasik village.

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As we ascended the mountain, Ibu Mardiana shared the story of a community still resilient despite the fire restrictions of the last fifteen years. The very remote location of Gunung Karasik village allows the community to practice slash-and-burn farming, as it is far from the patrol area.

Fire plays a crucial role in helping certain tree seeds.

When I finally stepped on their ladang, I once again was in awe at the stunning lush farm that was full of vibrant colors from the indigenous crops and trees. Their farming area was a treasure of biodiversity. Fruit trees stood proud alongside papaya, chili, rimbang (Solanum torvum), and various other vegetables and medicinal plants. Ibu Mardiana shared that their ladang not only sustains the community but also is designed to protect native rare species, such as the precious Kalimantan ironwood, now under protection due to its vulnerable status.

The Ma’ayan hill farm

The Ma’ayan hill farm thrives with vegetables, fruits, endemic vulnerable trees, and medicinal plants. In this photo, chili and katuk (Breynia androgyna) grow among the many cultivated plants.

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Terung Dayak

The terung Dayak (Solanum lasiocarpum) harvest at Gunung Karasik.

The secret to their vigorous farm lies in their regenerative farming system. They begin their farming cycle by cutting and burning trees. This isn’t an act of destruction; it is the prelude to forest regeneration. Fire plays a crucial role in helping certain tree seeds, especially tough ones like ironwood, to sprout. The ash from the burnt trees enriches the soil by raising its pH levels, creating a more favorable environment for new growth. The trees decompose and return nutrients to the earth. After a couple of months new tree seeds sprout, and within five years, a young forest emerges — resilient and strong. It’s a remarkable sight to witness young trees pushing through the soil, thriving next to the decayed remains of their ancestors.

As I walked upon the hallowed ground, the charred remains of once-majestic trees told stories of sacrifice and rebirth. This natural cycle of regeneration reminds me of the profound saying, “From death springs life.”

My sojourn into the heart of Dayak farming continues. Each community I visit unveils a new layer of wisdom, resilience, and a timeless connection with the land.

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Support the Cause: Donate to support regenerative Dayak farming and help build thriving agroforestry projects in Gunung Karasik and Pilang. Your contribution will empower the Dayak community to restore their lands, protect biodiversity, and preserve their cultural heritage. Learn more about Indigenous Dayak traditional practices and support their initiatives.

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Sumarni LamanSumarni Laman is a young Indigenous climate advocate actively involved in environmental initiatives to raise awareness about forest-related issues and address the challenges posed by deforestation, forest fires, and mining activities. She belongs to the Indigenous Dayak Ngaju community from Kampuri village, Central Kalimantan, Indonesia. She holds a master’s degree in public policy and currently serves as a project manager at Replant World.

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