Image: A handloom weaver in Amarapura, Myanmar. (CPI)
For generations, the looms of Amarapura have produced one of Myanmar’s most treasured crafts: handwoven silk and fine textiles. Amarapura handloom weaving is a cottage industry, and families run it loom by loom in homes near Mandalay. Much of the skill is held by women, passed from mother to daughter over generations. When a powerful earthquake struck in March 2025, it damaged many of these looms and halted household incomes overnight. With support from a Community Partners International (CPI) shelter and recovery project, weavers across the township are now back at their looms. Their stories show both the cost of that interruption and the depth of what was nearly lost.
Daw Khin Myo Wai, 55, learned to weave at the age of 13. She trained at a renowned local workshop, memorizing complex patterns by sight. At that time, weavers worked without printed guides. Instead, they carried every design in their heads.
After more than ten years there, she began weaving at home in her early twenties. Amarapura handloom weaving has always depended on this kind of inherited memory. Today, she is one of the few weavers in her village who can design her own “acheik,” an intricate silk weave that can call for 200 to 300 separate shuttles to set its colors. She builds her patterns from lateral cables, leaf and wave connections, and multi-layered twists, some of which echo the shape of a Burmese harp. Other weavers ask to copy her drafting sheets.
Her work travels far. A buyer in Yangon visits her home to place orders, then turns the cloth into designer bags for export to Japan. The buyer demands exact measurements to avoid waste, and pays well for the precision. That relationship began before the earthquake, so it has held for more than a year.
Yet the craft itself is thinning out. Machine weaving is faster and cheaper, so many weavers have drifted to other work. As Daw Khin Myo Wai puts it, “Amarapura was once famous for handloom weaving, but now there are fewer weavers.”
The economics are harder too. The price of cotton has climbed sharply, from around 35,000 kyats for 10 pounds to more than 100,000. She blames fuel shortages and transport costs. Even so, she keeps designing, because skills like hers are rare.
On March 28, 2025, a magnitude 7.7 earthquake struck central Myanmar near Mandalay, the country’s second-largest city. Amarapura sat close to the fault, and the damage was severe.
The losses were structural and deeply personal. Houses tilted, pillars cracked, and weaving sheds collapsed. For several families, the human toll was far worse than the broken looms.
Daw Tin Tin Yi, 60, was eating lunch when the shaking began. “We heard a roar and felt the ground shake violently. My daughter ran to me, and that’s the last thing I remember before losing consciousness. An old two-story building… collapsed onto our house, trapping my daughter and me under the debris. I thought my daughter was dead when she lost consciousness. I was injured so badly that I was bed-bound for three months and needed 12 stitches to my head.”
Her 97-year-old mother, who has lived through earthquakes before, was unhurt but shaken by the worst one yet.
Other families grieved. Ma Malar Oo, a 41-year-old widow, lost her younger brother. “Our house split into two. My brother died from shock. He was 37 years old when he died and was the sole breadwinner. My mother lost her sight immediately after the earthquake. My husband died before the quake.”
In Ma Myint Myint Thwe’s home, the family was lucky to survive. “The shed where our handlooms were located collapsed, and our house tilted. We were trapped under the looms. My mother had a stroke and couldn’t walk properly afterward.”
Daw Khin Myo Wai’s husband was pinned in their home when furniture fell on him. “The refrigerator and drawers fell on him. He had previously undergone open-heart surgery. His condition worsened and he had to go back into hospital. We still can’t sleep well and often cry out in fear.”
For weaving families, a stopped loom means a stopped income. Amarapura handloom weaving offers little cushion when the work halts. After the earthquake, most could not work at all.
Many lived in tents for weeks or months, afraid to go back indoors. Then the rains came. The shaking had caused the land to sink, so floodwater pooled and lingered. Ma Malar Oo lived in a small tent where her house once stood, and the water stayed for as long as 20 days.
With no weaving, money disappeared. Neighbors and relatives shared what rice and oil they could. To get by, Ma Malar Oo picked tamarind leaves and vegetables to sell. Daw Khin Zaw Win’s husband traveled to another town for casual work. Across these households, survival came first, and the looms sat idle under tarpaulins.
Repairs to homes dragged on for months. Carpenters were scarce, and the cost of materials was high. For Daw Tin Tin Yi, it took roughly six months before her household could think about weaving again.
Once shelters were stable, the focus turned to livelihoods. For these families, Amarapura handloom weaving is not a hobby but a source of income for food, school fees, and medicine.
The project reached weaving households in 11 villages across Amarapura. In total, it repaired 21 handlooms, provided 41 cupboards for storing yarn and fabric, 56 signboards for home-based weaving businesses, and a one-month supply of yarn for 69 households.
Each item removed a specific barrier. Repairs brought damaged looms back to life. Yarn gave weavers the raw material to start earning. Cupboards and signboards, meanwhile, protected stock and helped customers find each workshop.
The support did more than restart the looms. It also changed how much each family could earn.
Without their own materials, many weavers work as “let kar sar” piece-rate laborers, weaving a fixed design for a set fee per yard. The rate is modest, often around 20,000 to 28,000 kyats [around $4.7 – $6.4 at the time of writing] for a finished yard. By contrast, a weaver who owns her yarn can sell finished fabric directly to merchants. She then keeps far more of the value.
This shift matters in every Amarapura handloom-weaving household because most of these weavers are the primary earners. Some are widows. Others support elderly parents or children with serious medical needs. A repaired loom, then, sustains far more than one person.
Daw Khin Zaw Win, 50, has woven since she was about 10 years old. A mother of five children, she works alongside her teenage daughter, and owning yarn now lets her sell her own cloth for a better price. “I love weaving and take great pride in being a weaver,” she said.
Daw Tin Tin Yi felt the change once her leg healed and her loom came home. “Now that I have my loom back, I can weave again to earn money,” she said. She added, “The support has been incredibly beneficial for us, ensuring a regular income.”
Beyond the looms themselves, two simple additions made a lasting difference.
Yarn and silk spoil quickly in damp, dust, and rain. Before, many weavers kept their materials in plastic bags. A proper cupboard changes that. As Ma Malar Oo explained, “Now, thanks to the cupboard, I can store everything safely and keep it free from dust and moisture.”
Signboards carried a different value. First, they help customers find a home workshop down a narrow lane. Second, they restore a sense of standing. Ma Malar Oo chose a name she loved for hers, “Yatty Oo.”
Ma Myint Myint Thwe, 36, who weaves while caring for a young daughter with a serious respiratory condition, felt that pride keenly. As she put it, “We didn’t have signboards before, but now we do, allowing us to proudly display our names in the weaving industry.”
For some families, recovery has opened a door rather than simply closed a wound.
Daw Khin Myo Wai’s twin daughters, Theingi Win Htet and Theingi Lin Htet, grew up around the loom. Now nearly 30, they have tried market work and embroidery, and learned new skills online during the pandemic. Today, they are training in designer tailoring. After the course, they plan to sew ready-to-wear clothing from their mother’s cotton and sell it on Facebook and TikTok. As they said, “My twin sister and I are working hard to make our dreams a reality.”
They are not alone. Daw Khin Zaw Win’s 18-year-old daughter Chaw Chaw left school during the pandemic and now learns the craft beside her mother. Younger weavers like these are quietly helping to steady Amarapura handloom weaving, a tradition that once looked likely to fade.
The market is shifting in their favor, too. Demand for handwoven cloth has recovered, which is good news for Amarapura handloom weaving. More young women are taking up the loom at home. With merchants supplying materials, weaving offers real income without leaving the house, which matters for women raising children.
The future of Amarapura handloom weaving now rests partly on this blend of old skill and new ambition. Master weavers like Daw Khin Myo Wai hold knowledge that took decades to build. Their daughters are pairing it with design training and online sales. With the right backing, the craft can adapt rather than disappear.
Real challenges remain. Yarn and cotton prices are still high, many homes still need repairs, and the fear of another quake lingers. Even so, the looms are running again, and families are earning once more.
As the twins put it, “This is our vision, and despite the challenges, we are determined to pursue it.” For the weavers of Amarapura, that determination now has the tools to match it.
Community Partners International (CPI) strengthens, equips and connects local organizations in Myanmar, Bangladesh and Thailand providing health and humanitarian services to conflict- and poverty-affected communities.
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