It’s a sea day today, so I’m doing a reassessment of what I packed, what I’ve been buying, and what I’m already thinking that I’ll be leaving behind.

Last night, once we were officially headed to Africa, I finally wore the unexpected bonus that I brought on board in my world cruise suitcase.

I was lucky enough last fall, through a fluke of being in the right place at the right time, to come into possession of a beautiful dress made of African wax print cotton.

My daughter-in-law invited me to her neighbourhood clothing exchange, a frenetic event involving around 20 women, wine, tea, snacks, and bags and bags of “downsized” clothing items: everything from yoga and athletic wear, to business attire, to casual clothes, to outerwear, to dressy outfits, to bathing suits, to accessories…. you get the idea.

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Everything was sorted into HUGE piles on the living room floor of our hostess’ home, and then the “auctioneer” took over.  Keep in mind, there’s no money involved, but that doesn’t mean the action isn’t exciting!  Over the span of about 4 hours, hundreds of items were held up, one at a time, and their brand and size called out. If someone wanted the item, they only needed to raise their hand or call out “me!”, and the item would be tossed to them.  If no one was interested, the item went into a donation pile. (A homeless shelter and a women’s refuge in Vancouver had already agreed to take all those items.) If more than one person wanted an item, the successful “bidder” was decided by an immediate game of rock-paper-scissors.

I’d intended only to donate items and not come back with any, but what is it Robbie Burns said? “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley”.

About an hour into the craziness, the item held up was a gorgeous full length green and red batik dress. The auctioneer, who was also that dress’s original owner, explained that she had bought it from a West African dressmaker at a multicultural artisan fair in Vancouver a few years ago, but never worn it because she became concerned she’d be accused of cultural appropriation.

I had no such concerns when I yelled “mine!” After all, I knew that Ted and I would be in Africa in 2025, and our experience has been that it’s always okay to blend in when visiting a foreign country.

Plus, after attending all Dr. Linda Bradley’s wonderful textile talks on our first world cruise (Episode 169, Episode 188), I was very excited to own something made of this particular fabric.

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African wax print fabric, also known as Ankara, is made using a 7-step wax-resist dyeing process inspired by the Indonesian Batik method of wax-resist cloth dyeing.

1. Apply wax: Paint a design using  molten wax onto both sides of the fabric. 
2. Dye: The fabric is dipped into a dye bath; the waxed areas repel the dye, leaving the uncoated areas to absorb it.
3. Crack: The fabric is crumpled (“cracked”) to create a marbled effect. 
4. Repeat: The process is repeated for each additional color and pattern. 
5. Wash: The fabric is boiled to remove the wax, which can be reused. 
6. Dry: The fabric is dried using cold air to prevent wrinkles and shrinkage. 
7. Finish: Optional finishes, which might include embellishments like metallic paints, are applied to the cloth.

During the period of European colonization in Indonesia, the labour-intensive Indonesian batik technique was adapted and mechanised by the Dutch who then mass produced Ankara fabrics. They eventually introduced them to the African continent through trade, military mobilization, and via missionaries, resulting in the fabric often being called Hollandais or Dutch Wax, after the people who imported it.

Ghanaians were the first Africans to begin adapting the print designs, fusing them with African art, culture, and fashion.

The original hand-dying process has been further automated in the 20th century as technological advancements have swept through the textiles industry, but the essence remains the same. For large runs of fabric, the patterns may now be designed using Computer Aided Design (CAD) software – instead of by hand – and the wax is applied using copper rollers etched with the pattern design instead of painted on by hand. Of course, there are still high-end one-of-a-kind designs being produced too.

Ankara fabrics have taken on a life of their own in the continent of Africa, so much so that Africans have created their own kinds of prints, giving them unique names, and in some Igbo tribes even using the patterns as a means of communication.

The fabric of my dress is neither one-of-a-kind nor a coded message, but I love it nonetheless!

(By the way, I also came home that night with a lovely pair of British-made black and white polkadot pants, but they’re just mass-produced clothing and nowhere near as interesting .)