Farthings Travel: The Weavers of Flores

Pierre and I arrived at Lepo Lorun, Flores, in Indonesia, expecting to see a few looms and some handmade fabric, a glimpse of an old craft still alive in the hills of Flores. What we found was something far deeper: a community held together by shared purpose, hard work, and belief in one another.

Lepo Lorun, meaning “the House of Weaving”, sits in the quiet village of Nita, just outside Maumere in Flores. The air carries the scent of wood smoke and the sound of gentle chatter from one courtyard to another. It’s not a factory or museum, but a living space where women still weave as their mothers and grandmothers once did.

Most men in this part of Flores worked in farming while the women wove quietly at home. Alfonsa saw how separate and fragile that way of working had become. She wanted to bring the women together, to share their knowledge, strengthen their community, and show their craft to the world. The men are also involved. They help build looms and are working on new training spaces. As demand for natural dyes and fibres grows again, Alfonsa continues to travel internationally to share her expertise. The new school she’s building, funded almost entirely through donations, will help the next generation of weavers keep this heritage alive.

The women behind the thread

The women of Lepo Lorun work with calm focus. Each loom seems to be part of them. Cotton threads stretch across wooden frames, and their fingers move with years of memory, tying, dyeing, and weaving.

We sat among them, simply observing. There was no sense of performance or hurry, only the quiet rhythm of women who know their craft. Though most spoke little English, smiles bridged the gap easily. They worked as they talked softly with one another, often laughing.

Nearby, a clay pot simmered over a small fire. Inside, pieces of red wood boiled in water, turning it a deep, earthy maroon. The air smelled faintly of smoke and resin. An older woman reached calmly into the pot and lifted a strand of yarn now turned dark red. For her it was just another step in the day; for us it was a reminder of how much skill hides in ordinary work.

At another corner, a woman was pounding turmeric. The yellow root broke apart under a wooden pestle, its colour staining her hands and the block of wood where she worked. Her movements were strong and steady, the kind that come from a lifetime of practice.

The colour

Here, colour comes from the land. Dyes are made from leaves, roots, bark, and fruit, all locally sourced and prepared by hand. Alfonsa Horeng, the founder and heart of Lepo Lorun, has led a steady return to natural materials, away from synthetic yarns and chemical dyes.

When we asked her why, she smiled and said simply: “Because it’s who we are.”

It takes two months to make two woven cloths. Every stage, planting cotton, spinning, tying, dyeing and weaving, is guided by touch and experience rather than rules. These cloths are not mass-produced products; they are gifts, heirlooms, and symbols of belonging.

Lunch with Alfonsa

We shared lunch with Alfonsa. She spoke gently, full of calm energy and purpose. Between spoonfuls of rice and vegetables and tasty fish. She told us how Lepo Lorun began.

In the 1990s, the use of synthetic fabrics was growing, and women in the community worked at home making the fabric, but it was slow and disjointed. Alfonsa, who grew up in a family of weavers, decided to bring women together to revive the tradition. What began as a handful of looms in home courtyards has become a network of many women across local villages.

She has since travelled to many countries around the world, representing Flores and teaching others about natural dyes and traditional patterns. Yet her heart remains here, close to the women who continue to work every day in the same quiet spirit that started it all.

While we ate, the sound of saws and chisels carried from across the courtyard. A few men were building the new training school, cutting tree trunks into beams and planks by hand. Sawdust filled the air. It was another kind of craft, another sign that this tradition has a future.

The art of patience

It’s easy to forget how much effort goes into the things we use every day. Watching the women of Lepo Lorun reminded us of what it means to create something slowly and with care. Every movement had meaning. Every stage relied on human touch.

The women work together, side by side, passing knowledge from one generation to the next. The older ones guide the younger, teaching them the feel of the yarn, the right moment to lift it from dye, the tension needed to hold a pattern. It’s not written down; it’s taught by doing, watching, and trying again.

This is how culture survives, not through exhibitions or slogans, but through people living it, one day at a time.

A quiet lesson in a small gift

Before we left, Alfonsa handed us a small woven fabric scarf as a gift. Because we were backpacking through Indonesia, we couldn’t carry much with us but this scarf has become a special reminder of our visit. It’s firm and strong, coloured in shades of indigo and yellow, a small reflection of the craft and care that fills this place.

As we held it, we were reminded of how easy it is to overlook the effort that goes into the things we use every day. In a world that moves fast and replaces things quickly, Lepo Lorun stands for something else: patience, respect, and gratitude.

What we found

We came expecting to see weaving. What we found was belonging. A belief that standing together makes people stronger. A reminder that real beauty grows from care and connection.

There’s a kind of quiet faith here, not in words, but in action. In the smiles shared across a loom, in the hands that guide the yarn, and in Alfonsa’s steady leadership. She has built more than a cooperative; she has built a family that honours its roots while weaving a future.

An invitation

If you ever travel through Indonesia, take time to look beyond the busy places and find communities like Lepo Lorun. Sit with them. Watch. Listen. You might not share the language, but you will understand the pride and purpose that tie them together. In Case you feel like connecting with Alfonsa and the group of ladies, you can follow them on Instagram and learn more about what they do - https://www.instagram.com/tenunlepolorun/

Lepo Lorun welcomes visitors to see the weaving process and hear their stories in Sikka, near Maumere, on the island of Flores.

We left that day with a piece of fabric, and something less visible but just as valuable: a reminder that every thread has a story, and that meaning is often found in the simplest of places, around a fire, beside a loom, among people who choose to build something that lasts.

At Farthings, we see the same spirit in our own work. Every garment we care for carries someone’s story, and every stitch deserves respect. Visiting Lepo Lorun reminded us that true craftsmanship isn’t about speed or scale — it’s about pride, purpose, and the people behind each piece.

Whether in Cambridge or Flores, we believe in slowing down, valuing quality, and honouring the hands that make and preserve beauty.