Dye's Design

Natural dyes were once the only way of coloring fabrics in Gambia. Artists extracted vibrant orange pigments from the indigenous cola knot. I'm not sure if it's the only one, but I'm sure it's the only one. And this deep blue color was made from indigo leaves. They were used to make the intricate tie-dye designs that have been a fashion staple throughout West Africa for at least a thousand years. But in recent decades, artisans have been replacing these traditional ingredients for imported chemical dyes that are easier and faster to work with. I'm not sure if it's the only one, but I'm sure it's the only one. Moussa Jete is the last tie-dyer in his town of Sukuta in Gambia. Still using only natural dyes and traditional techniques. We traveled there to see how this ancient craft is still standing. Moussa goes to Seracunda Market to buy cola knots twice a week. They only grow along the West African coast, and they are a popular gift for naming ceremonies and weddings. In Gambia, the nuts are also used to make a traditional orange dye. Moussa says the key to getting the best color is washing them thoroughly. I'm not the only one who has a good color. I have a good color, and I have a good color. He works from his family compound where he lives with his wife and children. 15 years ago, he had to do everything himself. But now that his children are older, everyone pitches in. His daughter helps him crush the cola nuts. It takes a lot of strength. Some artisans have switched to grinding machines, but they are expensive, and Moussa doesn'think they are worth it. His kids usually get one kilo of nuts crushed in 15 minutes. Moussa soaks the pulp in cold water. This helps release the pigment almost immediately. The secret to the designs lies in the ancient tying method known as tritique. Moussa chooses them based on the fabric. Most of the time, he follows a traditional pattern. He uses the traditional pattern to make the pattern more beautiful. But other times, he Pleading and tying a 3 meter long cotton cloth by hand can take him up to an hour. The tight knots form the pattern by stopping the dye from coloring the whole cloth. Moussa has memorized countless patterns, mixing and matching them to create a custom design. I'm not sure if I can make it back to the old. And he's making sure to teach them to the next generation. I think it's better to make it back to the old days. It's better to make it back to the old days. I think it's better to make it back to the old days. For other designs, Moussa melts down candle wax. Then he stamps the fabric to block the dye in specific spots. This technique is called batik. Indentured African soldiers brought it to West Africa during the 19th century colonial era fighting for the Dutch indonesia. Moussa has over 200 wooden stamps in his collection. He even carves his own, drawing inspiration from the world around him. Finally, it's time to submerge his work in the dye. For the best results, he soaks the fabric overnight to absorb the pigments. Moussa learned the craft from his parents when he was just eight years old. But he never thought he would become a full-time artisan His dream was to be a doctor, but he couldn't afford to pay for his education. I'm not a doctor. I'm not a family. I'm a family but I'm a bucket. I'm not a family but I'm a bucket. Now he's happy with the bath he took. For the next stage, Moussa makes his own indigo dye. He buys his leaves from local markets. To make his indigo stronger, he uses plants growing in his own backyard. We have one dollar and we have ten ferrotti. He says the chemicals in both help the indigo dye last longer. Moussa soaks the roots in water overnight to release the acid. Then he strains the water into the indigo. He makes sure it'strong enough by tasting it. He says the acid is not strong enough to release the acid. He says it's not strong enough. He burns the palm tree flowers into ashes, then soaks it in water to make a mixture called se. Then he strains the liquid into his indigo vat. Moussa stamps the dry fabric with wax one more time. This will block the next layer of dye. Indigo is so potent that Moussa only needs to dip the fabric in it six times at most for the color to penetrate. For a richer color, he leaves the fabric in the vat for 20 minutes. Leaving it longer could ruin the design. The indigo dye will oxidize once it's out of the vat, turning a deep blue color. Moussa's family has been using indigo to make textiles for at least four generations. It's the reason the craft means so much to him. His father was a part of a large ethnic group called the Fula. A nomadic tribe known for using indigo. It's the main color of their traditional clothes. I don't know if I'm a Fula or a Moussa. I'm a Fula. I'm a Jubi. Moussa's father would travel from country to country selling his tie-died fabrics. I don't know if I'm a Fula or a Jubi. Moussa wants to pass on the skill I don't want to go to the country. I don't want to go there. I don't want to go to the country. People in Gambia have been practicing tie-dye for generations. The art was passed down in families, practiced in the home, and even taught in schools. Natural colors from indigo and cola nuts were once the only dyes available. But when tourists began visiting Gambia in the mid-1960s, it created a more lucrative market for the craft. Soon, chemical dyes were imported from Germany to meet higher demand. They came in multiple colors and were quicker to use. The brighter, more colorful designs also appealed tourists. Nowadays, most artists in Gambia opt for chemical dyes. Today, Musa is the last in his community to only use natural dyes. While the chemical ones are more convenient, he says it's not worth the risk. He recognizes how special his work is every time he cuts a thread and reveals his newest creations. Every piece is unique. Yes, I'm happy. As a final touch, he irons the fabric by beating it with two wooden gloves. Then, it's ready to sell. He works with a non-profit that helps sell his fabrics online to international customers too. But the last two decades have been bad for business. In 2014, the Ebola virus epidemic stopped tourism throughout West Africa for nearly three years. And when COVID-19 hit in 2020, Musa said he had no sales for months. He was forced to find odd jobs, And at one point, he feared business would never recover. But in 2021, a non-expected order changed everything for him. Musa made more than 200 tie-dye and batik fabrics for the Hollywood blockbuster. And his work was seen by millions around the world. Musa believes this was his sign to keep going and make sure the craft stays alive. Now, he's focused on teaching traditional tie-dye and batik to others. He trains dozens of people in his district so they can make careers out of it. Tie-dye has helped Musa sustain his family for 35 years. And with his children eager to follow in his footsteps, he thinks the future of the craft is promising. He does what he's told. If he's interested, he's kept his family up-to-date with the market. They are certainly ahead of him. I don't depend on anything. I only expect others who take good care of my business.