Island Art

Artist Ali Lamu uses recycled dhow sails as a community-boosting canvas for his Kenyan hometown   An Omani protectorate during the 19th and 20th century, vestiges of Lamu’s golden age can still be seen throughout the Kenyan island today. The warren of narrow alleyways are lined with monumental Islamic houses and beautifully crafted dhow ships, the sound of the droning Adhan and Arabic-tinged Kiswahili language permeates the air, and Lamu’s signature seafood dishes are laced with fragrant Middle Eastern spices, which have been traded for twelve centuries along the East African coast.   Like so many of the people who have lived in the Lamu Archipelago since it was sieged by Oman in 1813, Ali Lamu is a fisherman. He fishes using small nets on locally-crafted dhow ships, in keeping with this age-old Indian Ocean tradition. The dhows are no match for the modern fishing trawlers that carve deep into the ocean floor, however, which have made it increasingly difficult for the fishermen to make ends meet. In 2008, when the fishermen’s situation had become desperate, Lamu met Daniela Bateleur, a self-styled Swiss photographer who had recently moved to the island to shoot a ‘reportage’ on the fishermen.   ‘Many of the families could no longer afford to send their children to school,’ Lamu explains. Even though the ‘madrasa’ (school) is free, they needed money to purchase uniforms and shoes. So remote, and long neglected by the Kenyan government, the island depends almost exclusively on tourism for its income – a fickle source that barely trickles down to the many poor residents who only manage to scrape by.   Lamu turned to Bateleur for guidance. Broke herself, the free-spirited traveller explains how she racked her brain for ways to help the fishermen make more money for their families. One day while they were out fishing, she asked the fishermen to bring her a used tanga, or dhow sail. Lamu returned with a beautiful old sail weathered by years of use. Torn and stained in places, the heavy canvas fabric had an enormous, cavernous hole in its centre. She didn’t know what she planned to do with it – until an idea came to her in a flash.   Lamu painted a giant red heart around the tanga’s hole, with the same paint he used to decorate his dhow, and Bateleur added the words ‘love again forever whatever.’ This joint creation became the genesis of a longstanding partnership that has since inspired thousands of people across the globe and lifted hundreds more out of abject poverty. So enamoured with their recycled work of art, the pair decided to have it framed at one of the many small art galleries on the island that stocks arts and crafts from the region.   ‘Not even one hour later a couple of Americans came in and said, “Oh my god, this is so beautiful. How much is it?”’ Bateleur recalls. Lamu, an introverted, gentle person who speaks so quietly it’s hard to hear him even with a microphone, never imagined that they would make money out of their impromptu canvas. The couple accepted Bateleur’s offer of 28,000 Kenyan shillings (332 dollars) for the piece. This was the first sale of an Ali Lamu tanga canvas. Today, one meal of chapatti and sukuma or kale with a cup of chai costs roughly 130 Kenyan shillings; an indicator of how enormous a sum of 28,000 is for the fishermen – even more so five years ago. Lamu had stumbled upon a simple way through which to make money for his community. But even then they couldn’t have imagined how successful they would become.   With nothing else to do, the pair decided to continue making similar designs with broken or flying hearts combined with lines from English or Swahili poetry. There is something so compelling about the stitched patches of fabric, childish handwriting, primary colours and whimsical sketches of people, hearts and sea creatures.   As each new canvas was quickly snatched up and revenue started to pour in, the Ali Lamu team added a bag to their repertoire. The simple bag shape was painted in combinations of blue, red or yellow – the only colours they had at the time – and became so successful they soon established a permanent store. Without a single lick of marketing, the Ali Lamu brand has since grown from a tiny seed of an idea into an international phenomenon.   The brand’s products can now be found in Spain, Germany, Holland, Italy and throughout Africa, and will soon be distributed in America as well. The team is also in the process of purchasing a new property so they can expand their workshop further. As one might imagine, this rapid success has not only completely changed Lamu’s life, but that of the many fishermen he continues to draw into his operation. He remains enormously humble. ‘At the time, fishing was really tough. We were losing so much to the safari fishermen, even before the pirates,’ Lamu explains. ‘People were really suffering and we wanted to help them, so we started painting the tangas the same way that I painted the boat and the people really loved it.’   Now Lamu has 16 full-time employees that stitch and paint tangas at a workshop outside a traditional Swahili house that he built himself, and more than 100 men and women have been empowered to paint their own bags and sell them. Lamu’s brother travels up and down the coast of East Africa to source genuine old tangas, since the weathered look isn’t something that can be faked, and they often take on large commissions for the island’s wealthier residents. We visited three upscale homes and hotels throughout the archipelago and each one of them had several Ali Lamu pieces adorning their walls.   Lamu and Bateleur are now married, though they don’t like to emphasise this part of the story. But there is no question that they make the perfect team. ‘I am the dreamer and Ali organises the workforce,’ Bateleur shares. ‘We complement each other perfectly.’   Photography: Tafline Laylin