Challenges for Batik master

AFTER a spirited outpouring on the state of batik today, Abdul Kareem Khadaied’s sudden inability to bring forth words surprises me. And all I ask is why he loves batik so.

Batik master and head of batik textile design house Khadani, Abdul Kareem has immersed himself in the world of batik for over 30 years, beginning from his days with a batik exporting company to his honing of the craft and creating his own masterpieces. Today, he’s happy to impart his expertise to students at his batik academy so that they may go on to become first world craftsmen.

“Batik has enriched my life in so many ways,” he says, after the longest pause. “It has given me an expression, an outlet. I can have fun and make some money. I have the opportunity to teach young people who can later on go into business themselves. I’m not just a trader. It’s a part of me and, when something is a part of you, you can’t help but be passionate.”

This passion is the reason why he’s so ardent in his views about the batik scenario in the country today. Clearly upset about what appears to be a lack of direction, his voice rises as he tells me about the challenges.

“This year we’re seeing a massive fall in demand, which is anticipated due to the lack of direction in the industry. There’s a massive quantity of machine-printed fabric taking designs from an industry that’s flooding the market and batik is being sold at a quarter of the price of hand-drawn batik.”

Although there’s an over-flooding of machine-printed fabric, there doesn’t seem to be a master plan for batik, adds Abdul Kareem, a member of the World Batik Council.

“And because there’s no master plan or clear-cut strategy for the whole country, you get issues like pricing and inferior quality fabrics and all kinds of unnecessary undercutting among batik manufacturers. This has been going on for years. With the recession, these negative effects are taking its toll.”

On the export side, there also doesn’t seem to have been any serious coordinated export promotion movement, says the earnest 55-year-old father of two. “Again, it’s because there’s no national plan. There has been lots of touch and go promotions – Harrods, London – but there hasn’t been serious development before these events. Money’s been spent but the return of investment is marginal. You can’t go on promoting and not build the capacity to export.”

He believes the reason why we can’t deliver is because we don’t have the capacity to do so. “You can’t have the capacity if you don’t have sufficient workers,” he points out.

“They can’t attract sufficient workers if they can’t pay the kind of salary that the workers want. They can’t do that if the industry prices are always pressed down. So because there’s no national policy, the batik industry has no direction.”

He admits that there has been much glamorisation of batik, thanks to Yayasan Budi Penyayang (an organisation that aims to raise the industry to new heights) and the Piala Seri Endon (batik competition), and that batik has been taken to places that it has never gone before. “Batik is used as a product that ties in with the glamorisation of Malaysia. That has its benefits as far as selling the country is concerned, but as for the selling of batik?” he asks.

Abdul Kareem, born in Singapore to an administration officer father and a housewife mother, hadn’t always been so culturally patriotic. He admits to being very western in thought as a youth. Growing up, his reading fodder included Shakespeare and Coleridge. “I read the history of Bob Marley, the works,” he says smiling.

Then he went to study tourism administration in UITM and eventually found himself heading the Persatuan Kebudayaan UITM. “It was then that I began to understand the Malay culture and the importance of maintaining it.”

He was also passionately into political history. “I saw what happened in Bangladesh – how the British flooded the country with machine-woven fabrics and killed the hand-woven fabric industry,” he recalls. “I studied Gandhi and his policy of non-violence and how he used hand-woven fabric to counter the flood of English fabric. My perception of craft wasn’t just as an art but also as a socio-economic activity.”

Upon graduating, Abdul Kareem, one of nine siblings, worked in a batik exporting company in Singapore. “I went from production to selling huge quantities of batik in the world market.”

His frequent visits to the factory taught him something else. “I saw the Kelantanese blocking the fabrics in Singapore and doing it with production systems,” he recalls. “They were using British and Japanese Industrial standards. They produced and exported in huge volumes and met standards placed by the international market. This was back in 1978/9.”

After several years in Singapore and working like hell, he returned home where he found an old friend who was making hand-drawn batik in Ampang and bunked with him for six months. “I learned first hand how to make batik and then fell in love with it. Not just with the finished work but with the process,” he confides, eyes watering at the memory.

He adds dreamily: “When you have colour or wax in your hand, you’re in a world of your own. It’s like writing a poem or painting a picture. It’s delicious. From then on I couldn’t go a day without doing any batik. Even today, I still paint.”

Abdul Kareem’s work is inspired by his emotions for a subject, which can be anything from the movement of a banana leaf to that of a young girl’s body. “Creativity is not just about what you see but also how you see it.”

Professing to be a dramatic person, his colours are in no way shy. “My colours have always been loud or earth tones. I’m not the jiwa jiwa (sensitive) type or the sort who does detail work. I do brush work and my strokes are fast and affirmative.”

What about his dreams.

“I want our national craft to be a source of pride and to be highly respected. I’d like to see a situation where our craftsmen are first world craftsmen who are given due respect,” he says.

Khadani Butik is on the second floor of The Mall, Jalan Putra, KL. Tel: 03-6120 2634.