The buzz of chattering women permeates the air. The ibus (the Indonesian word for mothers) are seated in a room, huddled in little groups, around pots of hot wax they’re using to dot the cotton fabric in their hands, the first step in making batik, an Indonesian heritage craft where artisans draw patterns and tell stories on fabric. The women look up and call out to us to join them. We do not speak the same language, but we understand their invitation. We remove our shoes and sit with them on the floor. We’re in the middle of farmland in Ambarawa, Central Java, Indonesia. We went through four airports and a two-hour van ride to get here, driving through small towns and verdant rice fields. But now that we’re here, welcomed into this circle of warmth, we know immediately it has been worth the trip. We’re at the very first..
