Nope, not to be mistaken with the Labubu craze happening in Singapore right now, but bubuku is a workshop/event I attended held at the Tanah dan Air—which means Land and Water—by Orang Laut SG at the City Sprouts@West Coast Park last Friday night (29 Nov).
This event was held in collaboration between Orang Laut SG and students from the Singapore University of Social Sciences (SUSS), as one of their community engagement modules. I was personally excited to attend as I was looking forward to see how the bubu fish trap is crafted.
Prior to this I have attended "Air Da Tohor", a creative play also under Orang Laut SG which tackled the issue of resettlement among the settled Orang Laut/Pulau communities of Singapore's Southern Islands which included performances from Firdaus Sani of Pulau Semakau and Cikgu Asnida Daud of Pulau Sudong, both of whom I have had the honour of becoming friends and allies in reclaiming the narratives of our individual island homes (maybe I should write a separate post just on this 'alliance' another time? Hehe).
'Bubuku' was not just a workshop on crafting the bubu fish trap, but also a talk and sharing by both SUSS students and community members on the significance of maritime practises and traditions. For example, the students started off the event by sharing a little bit more about the bubu, and how this fish trap is commonly used not just within the Nusantara, but also in places such as Thailand and Taiwan, albeit in their own names and renditions. This was a good reminder on the shared traditions that we Malays have with other coastal communities around Asia.
Next, we had a sharing by Encik Hamzah Mohamad (Cik Am) of Pulau Sudong as well as Firdaus' brother, Faizal Sani of Pulau Semakau descent. It was enjoyable learning the tricks and the traits of marine life, based from their own personal experiences out at sea. I learned about the best optimal time to capture crabs, which according to Faizal, would be around full moon as the crabs were observed to be "more meatier" then as compared to the new moon. Also, Faizal shared a time when he learned from his grandmother that there are certain days within the Islamic calendar when you are allowed to craft the bubu, as doing it on those days would be considered more prosperous—or providing more rezeki. These personal anecdotes from members of the community are crucial in understanding the special and intimate relationship that these people have with their land and waters, a point often overlooked in discussions, especially if it only involves the viewpoints of those of the academia and the government.
Lastly, was the bubu crafting workshop itself. Cik Am, given his nearly lifelong experience crafting them, generously shared his knowledge with the participants on how a bubu is made. Using a chicken wire mesh, he determines the size of a bubu based on the number of eyelets in the wire mesh. He taught participants to cut diagonally following a 'single' and 'double' pattern, where the pliers would have to cut through to attain the V-shaped structure.
Next, he would use a string to measure the length required to form the sides (or breadth) of the bubu. These individual sections are then weaved together at the edges to form the bubu. However, considering that it was a 2-hour workshop, it wasn't necessarily a proper bubu, but it was sufficient enough for people to know the skills needed in crafting one.
Overall, I was very happy to witness Cik Am crafting the bubu with my own eyes and I am deeply appreciative of him and the other Orang Pulau who keep this tradition alive in an ever-modernising Singapore. As other more conventional fishing methods are introduced, the bubu, which in itself has also evolved from the traditional bamboo and rattan to the wire mesh sometime in the 1950s/60s, remains an integral part of Singapore's early maritime practises and traditions. I hope that future generations of Singaporeans, especially descendants of the Orang Laut/Pulau, could take over and helm these traditions of our forefathers, because these are what shaped our cultures and identity today.
I'd like to thank the SUSS students for their hard work in collaborating together with Orang Laut SG, and applaud them for helping to amplify the voices of the Southern Island communities within the academic setting. And of course, to Orang Laut SG for their heart work in keeping their stories alive, as always.
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