Vanishing Grains of the Dayak Land

by Carlo Manalansan

In Kalumpang, a small and quiet riverside village of the Dayak Indigenous Peoples in Mantangai District, Kapuas Regency, Central Kalimantan, Indonesia, 38-year-old Nanyan is up before sunrise. Gathering his tools, he makes his way to his family’s field where hundreds of rubber trees stand, planted decades ago by his father, Karnadi.

Inside their house, Karnadi (right) and Nanyan (left) show the traditional tool they use in planting and harvesting rice.

“Since I was a kid, I have been tapping rubber,” he says. During the dry season, each tap earns him 400 Indonesian rupiah (roughly 0.03 US dollars). He works four times a week, a total of 16 times a month. In the rainy or wet season, the work is less and the yield is lower. Rubber taping remains one of the main sources of income in the community, alongside rattan weaving which is mostly carried out by Indigenous women.

Ibu Ambun weaves rattan bags by hand, selling them within the village to earn extra income alongside managing her small store.

Over the past few years, Nanyan has mourned the disappearance of something essential in their ancestral lands — their traditional rice seeds and farming practices.

‘The seeds they killed’

“You are a farmer from the moment you are born,” Nanyan shares. Dayak families in Kalumpang grow up cultivating their own rice. Most of them, if not all, are rice farmers as rice is the staple food in the community. For them, their reliance on rice is more than just sustenance but a way of life.

This deep connection to rice is tied to the seeds they have passed down through generations. Dayak’s traditional seeds are invaluable. Their seeds grow without the need for pesticides and other harmful chemicals, thriving naturally as it has for generations. The Dayak people have long been practicing manusul dirik, a traditional and sustainable practice that utilizes controlled land burning for soil preparation and conditioning. This process has also minimized the dependency on fertilizers as it has cultivated natural nutrients in the soil.

Pak Pendi presents the output of his group during a community workshop to understand the potential impacts of development projects and policies on their community.

Traditional farming practice is a collective effort. The men usually prepare the land and make planting holes, using a traditional tool called a tundang. It is made of ironwood wood, which is said to be the strongest in Kalimantan. Women place rice seeds in each one. Tending the farm lands and harvesting rice are responsibilities shared by everyone.

Rice paddies yielded enough to feed families for years. In 2007, Nanyan and his father harvested 700 cans of rice, each can is equivalent to 11 kilos. A single seed could grow into ten stalks or more. The rice grains were aromatic and could last up to three years after harvesting, without spoiling. They also planted vegetables and other crops and fished for lele (catfish) and other freshwater species in nearby rivers. “We had everything before,” Nanyan recalls. No one in the village needed to buy rice then. Now, they depend on imports from outside, which lack the fragrance and texture of local varieties like garagai.

One afternoon, villagers gather at the community port. Across the river, community forests are located. But some of it has been cleared and converted into palm oil plantations, which are mainly owned by corporations.

In recent years, the Indonesian government banned manusul dirik in Kapuas Regency, including Kalumpang village, citing environmental concerns linking it to forest fires in Central Kalimantan. This policy not only prohibits manusul dirik itself, but it ultimately led to the loss of traditional seeds, Dayak identity, and cultural heritage. Now, the entire community relies on buying rice from outside the village.

Manusul dirik under fire

According to Nanyan, villagers saw helicopters hovering overhead and dropping water on an ongoing slash-and-burn activity in their paddy fields. It not only stops them from their production, but it also damages shelters in the field.

In all their years practicing manusul dirik, villagers have never caused massive forest fires. In their traditional method, the fire is contained in a small area only. If a larger plot needs clearing and burning, they would ask other villagers for help to ensure that the fire is controlled. They do not want the fire to spread and eventually destroy their own crops. For Dayak, protecting their ancestral land is a collective responsibility.

The community insisted that the big forest fires originate from the large-scale palm oil plantations, not from their traditional agricultural method. People violating the policy are criminalized. The penalties are severe, such as a fine of up to 5 billion rupiah (approximately 300,000 US dollars) and up to 15 years in prison.

Due to fear of practicing manusul dirik, community members faced restrictions on the use of their traditional seeds and agricultural productions, forcing many to transition to low-paying job in palm oil plantations and mining. With limited economic opportunities and alternatives, some villagers like Nanyan, who once grew traditional rice, have shifted to planting palm oil trees.

A villager assembles a river boat. Some woodworkers chose boat-making as their part-time work to earn money and support their families. Boats are important in Kalumpang as it transports people to reach their farmlands and carries goods and other supplies from other areas.

This situation poses several challenges such as the survival of Dayak people and the potential land dispossession once the impending cetak sawah rakyat (CSR), Indonesia’s food estate project, encroaches their Indigenous territory.

One threat after another

After banning manusul dirik, the Indonesian government has begun promoting cetak sawah rakyat, a reworked version of the previously failed Peatland Development Project (PLG). From the limited information the community has received from village authorities and other community members, CSR brings in commercial seeds. Villagers fear that these seeds will demand more water, fertilizers, and pesticides, unlike traditional varieties. This situation will make farmers dependent on these inputs and raise doubts about the quality of the rice they will produce.

A section of forest in Mantangai, Kapuas Regency, Central Kalimantan, cleared for the implementation of the cetak sawah rakyat (CSR) project. This site is part of the 964 hectares designated for the project.

The community has raised several issues over the lack of an information campaign on CSR. No community meetings or socialization activities have been conducted to engage the wider community about the project. If there is any available project information, it is confined to village officials, landowners, and select groups. Villagers have received no clear explanation of the project’s objectives, system, or implementation process. There was no established mechanism for the community to participate in discussions and decision-making. They also voiced concerns about whether CSR is implemented. It could trigger disputes over land ownership, raise questions on benefit-sharing schemes, create debt burdens on farmers, especially the poor, and leave uncertainty over what support programs would be provided.

Plants along a canal, a few kilometers away from Kalumpang village, display signs of discoloration. Villagers believe that this appeared when the community started planting palm oil trees.

Although the new food estate project is set for Central Kalimantan, it has yet to be implemented in Kalumpang village. But community members fear that CSR will bring the same harms as PLG such as threatening their lives, livelihood, and environment.

Seeds that persist

Nanyan continues his daily work — tapping rubber trees and tending palm oil trees. Yet deep down, he and the entire community dream of once again planting their traditional seeds.

Community members are working together to bring their concerns to the authorities and to raise awareness among villagers, knowing that collective understanding can mobilize change. Despite the challenges, they hold on to the hope of returning to rice farming. For the Dayak, it is not just about the food, but it is about preserving their connection to the land that defines their identity and survival as Indigenous Peoples.

Community members participate in a community meeting and worshop to share experiences related to CSR and other projects in the community, while voicing their aspirations as Indigenous Peoples.

Like their traditional seeds, the Dayak people will endure the harsh impacts of these projects and policies, determined to take root again. From their struggle sprout new seeds of future generations who will carry forward their Dayak stories, traditions, and resistance.

Read: Dayak Indigenous Peoples in Kalumpang, Central Kalimantan Push Back Through Community-led Research and Solidarity

Carlo Manalansan is a photojournalist and community organizer at International Accountability Project.