Narrator: Natural dyes were once the only way
of coloring fabrics in Gambia.
Artists extracted vibrant orange pigments
from the Indigenous kola nut.
Narrator: 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 1,000 years.
But in recent decades,
artisans have been replacing these traditional ingredients
for imported chemical dyes that are easier
and faster to work with.
Narrator: Musa Jaiteh 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.
Musa goes to Serekunda market to buy kola nuts twice a week.
They only grow along the West African coast,
and they're a popular gift
for naming ceremonies and weddings.
In Gambia, the nuts are also used
to make a traditional orange dye.
Musa says the key to getting the best color
is washing them thoroughly.
Narrator: He works from his family compound,
where he lives with his wife and children.
Fifteen years ago, he had to do everything himself.
But now that his children are older, everyone pitches in.
His daughter helps him crush the kola nuts.
It takes a lot of strength.
Some artisans have switched to grinding machines.
But they are expensive,
and Musa doesn't think they are worth it.
His kids usually get 1 kilo of nuts crushed in 15 minutes.
Musa 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 tritik.
Musa chooses them based on the fabric.
Most of the time, he follows a traditional pattern.
Narrator: But other times, he likes to improvise.
Pleating 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.
Musa has memorized countless patterns,
mixing and matching them to create a custom design.
Narrator: And he's making sure to teach them
to the next generation.
Narrator: For other designs, Musa 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
after fighting for the Dutch in Indonesia.
Musa has over 200 wooden stamps in his collection.
He even carves his own,
drawing inspiration from the world around him.
Narrator: Finally, it's time to submerge his work
in the dye.
For the best results,
he soaks the fabric overnight to absorb the pigments.
Musa learned the craft from his parents
when he was just 8 years old.
But he never thought he
would become a full-time artisan like them.
His dream was to be a doctor,
but he couldn't afford to pay for his education.
Narrator: Now he's happy with the path he took.
For the next stage, Musa makes his own indigo dye.
He buys his leaves from local markets.
Narrator: To make his indigo stronger,
he uses plants growing in his own backyard.
Narrator: He says the chemicals
in both help the indigo dye last longer.
Musa soaks the roots in water overnight to release the acid.
Then he strains the water into the indigo.
He makes sure it's strong enough by tasting it.
Narrator: He burns the palm tree flowers into ashes,
then soaks it in water to make a mixture called saye.
Then he strains the liquid into his indigo vat.
Musa stamps the dry fabric with wax one more time.
This will block the next layer of dye.
Indigo is so potent that Musa 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.
Musa'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.
Narrator: Musa's father would travel from country
to country selling his tie-dyed fabrics.
Narrator: Musa wants to pass
on the skill like his ancestors did.
Narrator: 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 kola 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 to tourists.
Nowadays, most artists in Gambia opt for chemical dyes.
Narrator: 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.
Narrator: He recognizes how special his work
is every time he cuts a thread
and reveals his newest creations.
Every piece is unique.
Narrator: As a final touch, he irons the fabric
by beating it with two wooden clubs.
Then, it's ready to sell.
Like many artisans in Gambia today,
Musa sells mostly to tourists.
He works with a nonprofit
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
like installing satellite dishes, and at one point,
he feared business would never recover.
But in 2021, an unexpected order changed everything for him.
Narrator: 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.
Narrator: 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.