Keeping the khophi alive in Khonoma

“Every Angami man should know how to weave a khophi,” says Pelesalie Kuotsu, 39, a weaver from Khonoma village in Nagaland. Made from züsa (bamboo) and thünye (cane), khophis are traditional Angami baskets used to hold firewood, grains of rice, harvested crops and ceremonial items. “It has played a big role in our traditions. It is something we must value forever,” he adds.

Once integral to the community’s lives and livelihoods, today, khophi weaving survives in fewer than 15 households in Khonoma, sustained mostly by older men; Pelesalie is an exception.

In his fifties, Kepekhoto Tho-u’s hands move with practised precision as he trims strands of bamboo, seated in a softly lit terhü, a partially covered structure made of bamboo beams, timber and cane, interwoven with dried leaves. The shade provided by the terhü cuts out the sharp edge of the midday sun.

“I come from a weaver’s home. My cousin brothers and I were all taught the craft of khophi basket weaving,” says Kepekhoto, working the bamboo strands as he speaks.

Angami are one of the 17 recognised tribes of Nagaland. Khonoma is a historic site of Naga resistance to British occupation in the 1800s. Angami village is located about 20 kilometres west of state capital Kohima and is known for its community-led conservation practices that include a ban on hunting and logging in the nearby forests, and organic farming methods.

Spread across 20 square kilometres of hilly terrain, the village is marked by stone-paved roads, terraced paddy fields and neatly stacked firewood outside traditional homes.

The village of just over 400 Angami households – a population of 1,943 (Census 2011), sustains itself largely through rice cultivation on stone terraces, shifting agriculture and forest produce. The surrounding forests are protected by the community, especially through the Khonoma Nature Conservation and Tragopan Sanctuary.

Kepekhoto grew up watching generations of Angami men make khophi baskets with a near-meditative focus – each strand must be tightly woven around the rim, and once the winding starts, the craftsman cannot pause or it will become loose.

Although he learnt the craft early, he did not practice it. Instead, he switched between helping his mother gather and sell cane and bamboo, working in paddy fields and assisting at a small grocery shop his parents ran in Kohima’s busy market.

It was only two decades ago when he turned 30 that khophi weaving became his permanent occupation. He was drawn to it when he noticed the number of weavers in Khonoma declining and wanted to continue his father’s legacy. “Everything is handwoven. My ancestors used their hands and that's what I was taught too. Besides, there are no proper machines for this craft in Khonoma.”

In Khonoma, Indian timber bamboo (Bambusa tulda) is preferred for weaving because of its strength and pliability. It can be split into fine strips and woven tightly, bearing heavy loads without cracking.

“People who buy our stuff, they only see the finished basket, but they don't know how long it takes to make it,” says veteran craftsman Kepekhoto as he weaves the ribbons of bamboo tightly around a wooden or metal mould to form the khophi’s circular rim and square base. His tools include a dao (broad-bladed knife) and a piece of thick cloth to protect his fingers from cuts.

“I start by getting water from the terüzo,” says Kepekhoto, referring to the community freshwater tap in the village. “We have to let the bamboo soak for three to seven days. This part takes the longest and you need to wait for the bamboo to be just soft and bendable enough so I can slice them thinly.”

Small baskets can take a week to 10 days of weaving, while larger ones may take up to 40 days. Once complete, each is fitted with a braided khelie (head strap) and polished with ash and cane shavings to smoothen and seal the surface. They sell for around Rs. 5,000 to 15,000.

The economics of khophi weaving do not reflect the labour and skill that goes into it. A weaver can complete two to four baskets a month. The average earnings from one basket, after deducting transport and material costs, are roughly Rs. 1,000 to 1,500. So, a weaver can just about earn Rs. 4,000 to 6,000 a month from khophi weaving.

“It’s never-ending work and it doesn’t always pay. So many men leave it,” says Pelesalie who does acknowledge the “satisfaction of making something with your own hands."

Pelesalie works in a small grocery shop set up by his family in Kohima market. He says many weavers supplement their income through farming or wage labour and weave during their spare time.

“Earlier, we travelled to the city, set up shops and sold baskets. Now it’s all pre-orders. Even Angamis don’t buy as much,” adds Pelesalie.

Traditionally, Angami women played an essential though less visible role in the craft.

“I have seen many elderly Angami women plan trips to the forest. They would mark days with clear skies to search better,” says Sensen Pesiye, 29, who runs a small shop selling dried wildflowers and wheat stems. “They would spend hours in the forests, combing through every nook. This process can go on over many days.”

Women also influenced how baskets were designed and used. The braided khelie was suggested by them to ease carrying heavy loads along Khonoma’s winding roads.

“Angami women gather the raw materials from the forest and help prepare the bamboo. They do not practise weaving. Making khophis is generally known as a male-dominated craft,” says Kikruneinuo ZB Liezietsu, an educator associated with the Ura Academy which works to preserve Tenyidie, the Angami mother tongue.

At present, women’s participation in the process has declined. Many now focus on farming, domestic work or selling small goods such as homemade axone chutney made from fermented soybeans, chillies, garlic and bamboo shoots.

“We [women] are the ones who use the baskets in the fields and take them to the market. But more women are moving away from using khophis. It’s much easier to use plastic bags and other carriers,” says Kikruneinuo.

Alongside these shifts, local bamboo has also become harder to source, resulting in raised production costs. Bamboo cover in Nagaland barely registered an increase – only 0.084 per cent between 2021 and 2023, according to the India State of Forest Report (ISFR) 2023.

Some weavers now source bamboo from neighbouring Manipur but it’s expensive as drivers charge more as they must drive slowly along the winding roads to prevent the bamboo from splitting.

A load of roughly 100 kilos of bundled fresh bamboo worth around Rs. 3,000 may occupy just a fraction of a truck that otherwise carries a tonne or two of mixed goods. Weavers often collaborate with other producers to share transport costs.

“If bamboo is nearby, it’s convenient and affordable. If not, I spend more and that’s a burden,” says Pelesalie.

The work also takes a toll on the health of the weavers.

“I’ve had back pain from bending over for hours,” says Chato Kuotsu, a weaver in his late forties. “My shoulders are always aching and my eyes are getting weaker. It’s harder to concentrate now. People barely acknowledge our efforts. They don’t even buy our work. There’s not much enjoyment left in this field.”

The number of khophi weavers shrinks each year. Older weavers like Kepekhoto recall being taught khophi weaving early in life, but the same is not true today. Young Angamis have never learnt the craft at all and prefer secure, salaried jobs in cities. The result is a craft slowly receding, with no clear successors.

Some support has come from the Department of Art and Culture in Nagaland, which promotes khophi weaving through workshops, Hornbill Festival exhibitions and small grants via the Nagaland Handloom and Handicrafts Development Corporation (NHHDC).

But weavers speak of short-term interventions, delayed payments from buyers and other issues. Vibu Iralu, an Angami travel guide, notes that disruptions in marketing the baskets are frequent. “There are gaps in how the products reach buyers,” he says, adding that his cousins who practise khophi weaving encounter similar struggles.

Facing such challenges, the onus of keeping khophi weaving alive continues to rest mainly with the Angami community. “It’s slow work, but it’s our tradition,” says Pelesalie. “We carry our spirit and identity with this craft.”