Passing on a dying art: Vitono Gugu Haralu with the women peer group, in Noklak.

At a remote village in Noklak district, a group of elderly women and adolescent girls get together every few weeks sharing intergenerational knowledge.

The older women, most of whom are in their seventies and eighties, are one of the few peer groups in Noklak, who still practice the tradition of cultivating and processing indigenous tree cotton for their looms. The younglings are eager students, determined to learn the traditional craft and ensure continuity of culture.

Amidst this group of unlikely companions is Vitono Gugu Haralu, who is on a mission of her own.

As part of the Exotic Echo Society, a weaving collective pioneered by the late siblings, Sonnie Kath and Haiyile Kath Zhimomi, Haralu ended up in Noklak looking for ways to expand the Society’s movement to revive traditional cotton growing and processing.

How it began Cotton, a heritage fabric woven through Naga indigenous loin looms, is more than a textile. And for Naga people for whom weaving is a way of life, many women consider the loin loom as an extension of their bodies.

For Haralu, if language is considered as culture made audible, the Naga traditional textiles are culture made visible; no more so than in the “Naga Homeland where your shawl and mekhalas tell the world where you come from, who you are, and where you belong.”

She explains that it is in this spirit that the Society and its proponents set out on a mission ensuring that this literal fabric of the Naga society and identity withstands the rapid modernization visible among indigenous communities worldwide.

Towards this end, she recounted how, in 2006, the two siblings were instrumental in inspiring a group of 15 women weavers, equipping them with tools, skills, and knowledge to become agents of change.

The Exotic Echo Society instilled into them the idea that if they did not act and sustain art and culture at the community level, it would be detrimental to the future of the indigenous Naga people, she maintains.

Along these lines, the Society began a revival of cotton growing, spinning, and weaving. For this, weavers from Yoruba village and villages in Meluri subdivision of Phek district as well as Peren district were called forth. The same work will be carried forward to villages in Noklak district.   ‘Sovereignty of cotton’ Looking back on her experiences with the women in Noklak, Haralu shares that her trip was a result of an almost two-year struggle to source yarn for Exotic Echo weavers during the COVID-19 lockdowns.

“I ran from pillar to post trying to find a way to procure cotton so that the weavers are not left unemployed and without a source of income during the lockdown. Finally, it dawned on me that the solution was with us all along,” Haralu reveals.

According to her, the interactions and sharing of experiences with the women in Noklak were eye-opening in many ways. “One of the older women remarked that had it not been for the young girls who showed eagerness to learn, this cotton growing and spinning tradition would have died out with the members of their peer group,” she says.

In the past, cultivation and processing of organic tree cotton was an important community-bonding activity. Women of all ages would connect through the hours as they carefully gin, clean and comb the soft fibres into a soft material that would later be spun into yarn. The yarn would then be woven into the textile that would go on to identify its wearer.

But now, most weavers buy ready-made yarns that are imported from other parts of the country.  “We are letting the tradition die a slow death,” she asserts, while adding, “It has made me think about the irony in how we talk about our shawls and mekhalas being identity markers and how we assert our sovereignty when we have lost the very essence of our identity by losing the culture of owning our own cotton.”

Here, Haralu acknowledges that it may not be feasible for everyone to go back to growing cotton. However, she strongly feels that it is not natural that the long cultural heritage of Naga indigenous textiles be abandoned to history without some attempt to conserve this incredibly rich cultural treasure.

Consequently, Haralu makes a link between the Naga political struggle for self-determination with the need to ensure what she terms as the “sovereignty of cotton.” The first Naga flag was woven using the medium of organic cotton yarn, cultivated and handspun by women from the Rengma community. She maintains that though the pattern may have changed to some extent, it is a reminder that the Naga cultural and political identity cannot be separated.

“The very essence of our identity, as a people, lies in this plant, the yarn that it produces. It is not right that we have lost ownership of it,” Haralu asserts.

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The Morung Express is a people-oriented alternative newspaper based in Nagaland that was conceived from the Naga people’s historical realities and is guided by their voices and experiences. It emerged from the well-recognized concept that the core of a free press is based on “qualitative and investigative” journalism. Ensuring this is essential for contributing to an informed Naga public that makes sound decisions on issues that affect all spheres of life.