A colorful history

Global Mamas, the fair-trade cooperative with which Shawn is working, was begun in 2003 as part of Women in Progress, an NGO established by two Peace Corps veterans, Kristin Johnson and Renae Adam.

Kristin was stationed in Cape Coast in the late-90s, and helped establish a credit union that today boasts more than a 1,000 members. She currently manages the state-side half of the business, living in Minneapolis, Minn.

For her Peace Corps assignment, Renae lived a short distance outside Cape Coast and helped her village build a water pipeline system to save the local women from the long, hot walk to collect water. It was at the time of its construction the most successfully funded project in Peace Corps history. The system bears her name to this day. Renae, who lives in Accra, manages the production portion of the operation.

Starting with six women, the cooperative now boasts more than 300 batikers, seamstresses and jewelry artists scattered across Ghana in Accra, Cape Coast, Krobo, Ajimako and Ho. Many of the local producers, which started as one-person operations, have now taken on employees, extending the economic lifeline made possible by Global Mamas.

Among the first to join the cooperative in 2003 was a small batiking shop called Eli Emma after its two creators. Today, Eli and Emma have a staff of eight young local women that each week helps design, dye and batik a range of patterns for Global Mamas. Their fabric is then cut and sewn in shirts, skirts, dresses and other articles of clothing.

We visited the shop, which sits literally steps from the beach. Cool ocean breezes blow in the large open windows, rustling the fabric. The plain room is dark and makeshift and smells of the melting paraffin, which bubbles in a pan over a brazier. The stamps used to design the fabric, once carved from wood, are today cut from foam, a much more convenient tool as it holds more wax.

It is a cramped workspace, with a low ceiling and no electricity or running water. The weathered walls are dark from smoke and are lined with a multitude of old stamps in a dizzying array of designs. It all seems less an artist’s studio than a secret backwoods still.

But the women tend to their tasks with smiles, patience and incredible good humor, all looked over on this day by Emma, who is firm but loving in her direction. Emma is probably in her mid-50s. She is round and quick to smile and bears the confidence that here only comes from knowing that your next meal is assured.

“Are any of these girls your daughters?” I ask her.

“They are all my daughters,” she says. This she repeats, but more to herself than to me.