Tree of a thousand uses

Far from the tourist trails of Indonesia LEANNE WALKER sees a centuries-old economy based on the tree of life.

The life of the islanders on Roti, in the south of Indonesia, is shaped by great palm trees known as lontars. So far, 49-year-old Alexander Haininuna has climbed the three lontars in his backyard 42,840 times. Like most Rotinese men, he is an expert climber and has been scampering up and down these trees since he was 15.

But these are no ordinary trees. For the inhabitants of this small, dry island southwest of Timor, the lontar palm (Borassus sundaicus) is the tree of life that guarantees against famine. It is one of the earth's most efficient sugar-producing plants, growing up to 30m and is drought-resistant.

It is thought that Roti, vulnerable to erosion, became infertile hundreds of years ago. Gradually the inhabitants learned to use the thousands of lontar palms colonising their soil-depleted environment, thereby reverting from an agriculture-based society to one of gatherers.

There is an unusually high degree of reliance on the palm for food and shelter and a bewildering array of products.

The freshly tapped lontar juice, tuak manis, is the first nutrition a newborn Rotinese child receives, even before mother's milk.

It is sweet, with a hint of tartness and has the appearance of milky water.

When that child grows old and dies, the person will be buried in a coffin built from the hollowed trunk of the lontar palm.

It was late afternoon when Alexander Haininuna roused himself from sleep to meet us and prepare for work. As we entered his home we saw beams of slatted light streaking through walling of stripped lontar leaf-stalk.

He buckled up his climbing belt, from which an assortment of palm-tapping tools hung in woven lontar-leaf sheaths. To his belt he clipped a basket called a haik, fashioned from the fan of the lontar leaf, to collect tuak manis juice from his three trees.

With the assurance of one who has done the job countless times, Haininuna stepped on to the first palm swaying 30m over our heads.

His leathery feet grasped footholds cut into the lontar's fibrous trunk and in less than 15 seconds his wiry frame pushed through the crown's thick barricade of leaf stalks.

The lontar blossoms twice a year, and two or three palms can support a family with juice and related products when other food is scarce or unavailable.

Because of the lontar, Roti and nearby Savu are the only islands in the area that do not experience the annual period of hunger (lapar biasa).

Climbing and tapping the lontar is strictly a male activity. Boys begin by practising on shorter palms when they are young. From 15 they climb and work hard, winning not only the respect of their family and community, but the adoration of the local girls.

When the end of the dry season nears (September/October) and the palm is at its peak of sugar production, most villagers hasten to get the harvest in before the rains.

Some climbers sleep beneath their palms and will start work as early as 1am to climb and process up to 30 trees. Family members run from the palms to the kitchens where the wives will cook for as many hours as the men climb.

The lontar supplies much more than sustenance for the Rotinese. We were continually astonished at "the tree of a thousand uses". Everywhere we looked it was being used in a wide array of products.

In addition to the haik and kapisak used for collecting tuak manis, the broad lontar leaf is woven into mats, betel nut boxes, containers for watering the garden, trays for winnowing rice, fans, umbrellas, belts, knife-sheaths, roofing thatch, cigarette papers and even handbags for transporting chickens to market.

The leaves are never wasted. When a house is rethatched every four to five years, the old leaf-thatching is burned on the garden to fertilise it.

The Rotinese also plait distinctive hat tilannga out of the leaf. Inspired by the designs of 16th and 17th-century Portuguese helmets, they feature a phallic appendage on the front.

Traditionally worn by men, there are tilangga for different occasions ranging from everyday use to celebrations. The celebration hats tend to be larger and more elaborate, with wider spiked fringes often painted with bright colours.

The lontar leaf even provides the Rotinese with a unique musical instrument called the susando. With a technique similar to the one used in haik construction, the leaf is fashioned into a hemispherical sounding-board into which a copper-stringed bamboo tube is inserted, producing a harp-like sound when plucked.

When interlaced, lontar leaf stalks, which can grow up to 1.5m long, make excellent fences, house partitions and even birdcages, or may be worked by stripping and twisting its fibres to make ropes, halters, bridles and a multitude of other items.

When the tree of life finally becomes unproductive, the trunk, which is stronger than coconut, is shaped into house beams, posts and rafters and hollowed out for pig-feeding troughs and coffins.

On our final evening on Roti, as we strolled the dusty tracks near our beach cottage, we met several lontar tappers heading home with their haiks full of juice.

It is the custom for lontar tappers to offer fresh juice to anyone they encounter, and we had our fill directly from the haik.