Ufufu
Ufufu is a small village in western Zambia. It is home to members of the Mbunda tribe. Many of the baskets we buy are made in there.
Ufufu had always been a magical name to me. My wife Bridget had told me about the place and its wonderful weavers. Many wonderful baskets had been made in Ufufu. Together with local basket expert Lama Lama and my nephew Mpeni ,I decided to walk to Ufufu.
As we approached the village we found one of the weavers digging the root from a makenge tree. She had carefully pruned the root from the tree and was busy stripping off the outer layer of the root. As I watched her I couldn’t help but be impressed. Harvesting these makenge roots was not the easiest way to make a basket. It was the way to make the best basket. These Ufufu weavers only want to make the best.
As we entered the village we found women weaving. They had cleaned their roots and split them into strands for weaving. They sat on their grass mats in the shade of the mango tree and were weaving their baskets. Next to them sat their small children. As they made their baskets the children would play with the strands of makenge root. Sometimes the smallest child would grab his mother’s basket and for a moment he would disturb his mother’s weaving. The women never seemed to mind. They knew their main job was to care for their children and weaving was an activity they could do while caring for their children.
These women were used to making just about everything they need. Certainly the baskets are no exception. They gather the dyes they use in making the baskets from clay. Sometimes they boil tree leaves or roots to make dye. The basket is made entirely from roots. Even the one tool that they use, a simple awl, is made by hand in the village. The women are not hurrying to finish their baskets. They look at each other’s work and study their own creation. They laugh and joke with each other. Always they are looking after their children. They are happy to see us. They sang a song they made up about Lama Lama. Someone starts beating a leather stool like it is a drum. A young man accompanies them by beating a metal bowl with a spoon. Today in Ufufu I can feel joy in the village as they weave.
I had discovered long ago that Africans and Americans can be quite similar in many ways. Like almost anyone these UFufu women desire beauty and luxury. Since they are amongst the poorest people in the world they are unable to purchase beautiful objects with money. They can however create a beautiful basket using the roots and dyes from their surroundings.
They use these baskets to perform their daily chores such as cleaning vegetables, winnowing grain, harvesting cassava, and serving food. When the baskets are not being used they are a source of beauty, decoration and even inspiration in their homes.
The inspiration comes from the patterns which are woven into the baskets. These patterns express the lives that the weavers hope to live. One common pattern is the circle or "family" pattern. The circle symbolizes the unity of the family since like a circle there is no break in a family. Another pattern shows two lines coming together to make one line. Called the "joining rivers" pattern it symbolizes a couple joining together to become one. Another common pattern inspires a couple to work out their marital problems. The "beauty mark" pattern is inspired by the women's habit of adorning their bodies with small herb treated scars which make them more beautiful and sexually desirable. These ideas are central to the lives of people in Ufufu. Each basket is adorned with one or more patterns. When a young couple decides to get married they are given baskets as wedding gifts. The baskets are important to the newlywed bride so that she can perform her daily household tasks. It is also important that the young marriage begins with a strong inspiration of how to live a good life.
As I moved about Ufufu I saw one young woman who was unable to walk but rather crawled on her hands and knees. My heart went out to her in sympathy because of her misshaped legs which seemed to be a result of her birth.
She was weaving a basket and next to her were her two children. I was told that her husband was working in the fields, something which she could not easily do. She was obviously handicapped but no one treated her as such. She was expected to care for her family and help provide for them. She had decided to make up for her inability to do field work by becoming a proficient weaver. She could weave longer, faster and better than the other weavers. She was cheerful and industrious and like the other weavers she payed close attention to her children. By the time I left Ufufu I had forgotten to pity her. Like the other weavers of Ufufu she had my total respect.
We left the village late in the afternoon when the temperature had begun to cool. As we walked back Lama Lama pointed out the trees which were used to produce the dyes. Another tree was the source of cooking oil. Everything that the people of Ufufu needed was made from the trees, soil, or other things readily available to them. The few things they can’t make like school books for their children or medicines for their families are bought with the profits from their baskets.
