Woven ‘Ebe’– My Identity

By Martha Fancy Brown

I sat on the Ebe,

Woven by my mother,

The raw fabric,

Sends a sweet fragrance to my nose.

I wonder where the patterns originate,

I wonder what stories will unfold,

The embedded knowledge it entails,

When the mystery is unveiled.

Each strip of veveo leaf,

Lying curled on the ground,

Represent a story left to tell,

A conversation to reclaim.

My mother shared my Tuta’s knowledge,

I saw how her fingers caressed the Woven Ebe,

I eagerly waited for her to teach me,

My eyes beaming with pride.

Mua told me, ‘This is how you do it.

’

I lean in to see her creativity,

As the patterns crawl into each other,

The stories pour out like a river out of the rocks.

I love the woven Ebe,

It taught me how to be a lady,

It gives me the power to be a woman,

The identity of my cultural way of life.

*Ebe – Mat *Veveo – pandanus *Mua – Mum * Tuta - Grandmother