Time and Traditions

"In Africa, when an old man dies, it's a library burning." 

-Amadou Hampate Ba

During a recent village to a small village in Mauritania I was introduced to a dear friend of my friend in the United States. This man was returning from another village, walking on foot, and carrying a plastic bag filled with small strips of woven cloth. Intrigued, I asked if he made them. When he said yes, I asked if I could visit his house the following day to learn more about his work. His name is Amadou Diaw.

When I visited his house the next day, Amadou was apologetic. He didn't have time to set up the loom to show me and he didn't have much time to talk. He had much work to do and although he was welcoming and generous with his time, I knew that I was taking him away from all of the other tasks waiting for him. Amadou rolled out a large mat and invited me to sit. He brought out four large rice bags filled with his life's work- pieces of his loom, rolls of thread, and stacks of woven cloth already completed.

Amadou told me that he learned how to weave from his father. Amadou is the only one in the entire area who has mastered this skill. He explained that this cloth is worn for weddings. The bride wraps it around her shoulders and covers her head. The traditional colors are orange, black, and white but sometimes other colors are used as well.

There are not enough weddings to enable Amadou to earn enough money to put food on the table and send his children to school. Amadou's love for his craft does not come before his responsibilities as the head of a large family. He must work all day to plant and harvest his crops, keep an eye on his herds of animals, as well as do everything else needed to make the household run smoothly. 

As Amadou showed me how he makes the cloth, I began to understand the immense amount of time that it takes to produce one strip. It takes seven strips to make one two-meter piece. I selected two stacks of cloth to buy. When I asked him the price, he told me $12.00 for each one. I gave him extra but it still made me sad to pay so little for something so valuable. 

I asked Amadou who else in the village knows how to weave. He paused, shook his head, and said "no one.” None of his sons have taken an interest in the trade, preferring instead to leave the village and look for employment in Nouakchott or traveling abroad. No one else has come forward as an apprentice. Amadou continues working on the weavings during his free time, which is hard to come by this time of year. 

It makes my heartbreak to think about the next generation. What will happen to this trade if no one continues to learn it? Where will the village find the woven cloth needed for a proper wedding?

As I was leaving I begged Amadou to take on some apprentices so that this tradition will stay alive in the village. He quietly told me that he doesn't have the time to teach them.