The Song of the Waves and the Green Footprints: The Story of Farming Traditions Along the Sikka Coast
Beneath Sikka’s blue sky, the scent of the Flores Sea drifts gently through swaying lontar palm fronds. Just a few dozen meters from waves breaking along a coastline of black sand and coral rock lie the uma—coastal fields where the people of Sikka have woven their lives together with the land. Here, agriculture thrives alongside the shoreline, closely intertwined with life by the sea.
For the Sikka people, the coastal landscape is a sacred space where sweat, tradition, and nature meet—a living harmony between land and sea. Communities along the Sikka coast move between two worlds that complement one another. As coastal life follows the rhythm of the seasons, fishing boats are moored while fishers shift roles, carrying toda and planting new seeds across their uma.
From these coastal fields comes a rich variety of local food and plantation crops. Local maize varieties form the backbone of household food security. Among the maize plants, tall coconut palms produce copra, while cashew and cacao trees provide an important source of household income.
Along the Sikka coastline, lontar palms (tuak) also grow abundantly. The traditional skill of Sikka men in tapping lontar sap and processing it into moke—a culturally significant traditional drink—creates a distinctive connection between the produce of the coastal landscape and local cultural identity.
Farming in a semi-arid coastal environment with limited rainfall presents serious ecological challenges. Yet recent agroforestry studies suggest that Sikka farmers have developed sophisticated approaches to conserving soil and water, embedded within generations of local knowledge.
They practice intercropping and integrated ground cover on dry coastal land. Maize is planted alongside local legumes, such as kacang turis and mung beans, as well as tuber-bearing woody plants. Legumes can contribute nitrogen to the soil while also functioning as cover crops that help reduce wind erosion. Meanwhile, agroforestry landscapes built around cashew and lontar trees can help retain soil moisture and reduce excessive evaporation under the intense coastal sun.
Sandy and rocky soils are enriched with organic mulch made from fallen leaves and other plant residues. The timing of land clearing and planting (uma tanan) is also guided by observations of seasonal changes and natural signs passed down from one generation to the next.
Lero Wulan Tana Watu and the Leadership of Women (Ina)
Coastal agriculture in Sikka is deeply intertwined with spirituality and customary life. Before the first seeds are planted, prayers are offered to Lero Wulan Tana Watu—the Supreme Being in Sikka cosmology, associated with the sun, moon, earth, and stone. Through customary land-opening rituals, communities ask for fertility and protection so that the coastal soil may provide an abundant harvest.
When harvest season arrives, gratitude is expressed through the traditional harvest celebration known as Tua Reta Mahe. Produce from the sea and the land is brought together on a customary altar, symbolizing the idea that sea and land form a single living whole that sustains the community.
Recent gender studies in coastal Flores have also highlighted the central role of Sikka women, known as Ina, in safeguarding food sovereignty. Alongside working in the fields, Ina serve as keepers of local seeds, preserving drought-tolerant crop varieties and helping sustain household economies through local markets.
Today, farming traditions along the Sikka coast face growing pressure from global climate change. Weather anomalies and prolonged dry periods associated with El Niño can make planting seasons increasingly unpredictable. At the same time, coastal vulnerability research indicates that erosion and saltwater intrusion are gradually threatening the fertility of fields closest to the shoreline.
Yet the agricultural knowledge of Sikka’s coastal communities offers an important lesson in resilience. Protecting local seed diversity and sustaining locally rooted conservation practices are essential if the green footprints along Sikka’s coast are to remain—and not be washed away by the waves of the future.
