A very long time ago in a small but rich village called Adanwomase, the kente was a sacred fabric greatly treasured by all but owned by a few. This storytelling patterned fabric which was hand-woven by some gifted weavers was a symbol of authority that separated royals from highborns, freeborns from slaves. A person’s status was easily determined by the clothes on their back.
The Kente fabric, unlike other fabrics, was an expensive fabric due to the difficulty of its creation. For the rich, it was a way to show off their wealth. For the poor, it was a way to earn and elevate their standing in society. So some in their haste for quick wealth rush into learning the art of Kente but they are soon exposed and pruned out —For the craft of Kente weaving was as slippery as holding on to a catfish with feet in the mud, only the dogged or those with ease of the gods’ favour made it through.
Among those who made it through was Akua. Akua the blind witch as some spiteful and jealous lot, call her was born with one eye. It was peddled by the rumour mongers that Akua’s mother had died after cursing the gods for giving her a child with a missing eye and her father followed suit in a week — drinking himself to death. And so, Akua orphaned before she was even weaned was raised by her grandmother, Nana — a struggling kente weaver who had begun teaching Akua from a very early age the art of Kente making.
“This cloth carries our ancestors’ tales, their struggles, and their victories, “ Nana said, lifting a colourful kente fabric. Her eyes were bright with positive pride. ”It is an honour only few can dream of. Each thread tells a story,” Nana lifted Auka’s hand, placing it on the fabric. Akua’s innocent eyes widened in appreciation as she touched the colourful fabrics her grandmother had woven. Tracing the patterns with the tip of her fingers “This craft has been passed down from my grandmother to my mother, and now I will pass it to you. Each pattern and colour represents a part of our family’s history.”
“But Nana” Akua said to her grandmother one evening. Feeling insecure and scared to disappoint her grandmother. “How can I create such seeing how I struggle to see with–” She touched her left eye, unable to bring herself to say the word “eye”. It made Akua sad that she struggled to see with the only eye she had. How could she be able to weave patterns that people with functioning eyes struggled with?
Nana crouched down and took Akua’s hand, holding it in hers. “Look at me,” she said, staring into Akua’s pale grey eyes. “The gods do not make mistakes. You are blessed by them to weave. This” She touched the empty spot on the right side of her face where an eye was supposed to be “ Will help you rather than stop”
CHAPTER 2
Akua, unlike the bad luck some had termed her – some boldly telling her grandmother to throw her in the evil forest, grew to be Nana’s greatest reward. At a very young age, Akua Mastered the art of Kente making. Nana, noticing the brightness of the child, challenged her with tougher patterns and each time she mastered them in a shocking space of time that exceeded her previous milestone.
The rhythmic sound of the loom was constantly heard in Nana’s compound as Akua wove. Strand after strand, colours over colours. Pushing, pulling, exchanging with a feverish drive that didn’t stop until a story was transformed into a pattern. She couldn’t explain it but the more she worked on the loom the more her weak sight improved. She could see colours in ways others didn’t. They spoke to her, came to dreams and told her how best she could weave them to tell different stories. And oh how the colours talked!
Whenever Nana took the fabrics Akua made to the market it sold even before she hung them out on her wooden rack at the village market.
As many moons went by, Akua’s expertise in weaving the colourful threads increased. She began creating new patterns that rivalled existing patterns. Her fingers wove ancestral tales and symbols into her fabrics. Soon the tale of the mysterious one-eyed weaver spread across the land. People came from far and wide to behold this mysterious maiden.
At first, the sudden attention was uncomfortable to Akua – who was used to being ignored and avoided, but as time went by and through the support and encouragement of her grandmother she became comfortable. “My grandmother said each thread is like a family member. Alone, they may seem small, but together, they form a strong bond. It’s not just about the cloth; it’s about connecting with our roots and embracing our identity.” Adua confidently schooled the on-lookers as she wove.
The scent of palm trees that surrounded her grandmother’s workshop and the hum of the village birds created a serene atmosphere as Akua wove. Her voice echoed as she shared stories of her grandmother teaching her the craft.
Akua’s voice faltered as she caught the villagers’ dreamy gaze as the sun bathed the threads creating a visual symphony. She thought “No sun could make anyone look at me that way”.
CHAPTER 3
King Bediako Anang warrior King of Andawomase was greatly loved by his people for he was a wise and good king and had saved Andawomase from the oppression of the Aban under the ruthless dictatorship of King Abronoma.
King Abronoma through his warriors unleashed hell on the people of Andawomase. His warriors, fierce and wicked, subdued the people and killed anyone who protested or delayed in paying their taxes.
The then King, King Dodzi rather than chart a path to freedom for his people took to drinking. He drank when the people came to complain about the taxes, drank when they came crying at the loss of their loved ones at the hands of Aban warriors, drank when the chiefs advised that they stood up to the injustice, drank when he feared for his throne, drank to forget and live. Soon King Dodzi became so roped with his Kegs of plam wine that became lost in the world of illusion and deaf to the cries of his people.
Light came for the people when Badiako the son of their war chief Kaatachi— who had died defending Andawomase. Badiako who had been taken as a suckling babe when Aban first invaded the kingdom, was whisked away by his mother — at his father’s behest, out of the kingdom before he went to fight the Aban warriors in the war that took his life.
Badiako was returned as a young warrior with a group of warriors who fought alongside him. They fought with a fierceness and might, that far exceeded the warriors of Aban. They drove the evil warriors out of their kingdom and defeated the rebuttal Army sent by Aban.
After such a sweeping victory, the people declared Badiako their King and abandoned the palace of King Dodzi. Dodzi on hearing of this took his life.
“A Pathetic end for one born with such grace” A villager said in pity as King Dodzi’s body was taken to the outskirts of the village where he was buried —for no man who took his life was permitted to be buried in the land.
Immediately after Badiako was crowned King over Adanwomase, he proved to be a better choice as Badiako brought prosperity to the land. With the help of the King from his mother’s home town whose warrior he’d employed in defeating Aban he restored the Kingdom.
It was so that now this very much loved king was to hold a feast. This feast was where the crown prince Osei was to choose a wife.
“Who is this magnificent Weaver? ” The king asked the courtier as he sat with his Prince Osei throne room looking at a Kente fabric made of yellow and red with patterns that reminded one of the setting sun.
“Reign Forever my King ” The courtier bowed in reverence revealing cracked teeth as he smiled. He was glad he had been the one to bring the fabric to the king’s attention “A subject of yours. A young maiden. Albeit a very strange maiden,” He said, twisting his fingers as he spoke.
“Why strange” Prince Osei asked intrigued. Upon realising he’d spoken ahead of the King in his haste he stopped “Forgive me, my King”.
The king waved the kente fan he had been using to cool himself “Nothing to forgive son. You spoke my mind. Answer the question” He urged the courtier.
The courtier’s eyes twinkle. His apparent love for storytelling, clear “I am surprised one has informed the king of this maiden despite her recent fame”
“Her strangeness Kwesi,” The King warned, for he knew the courtier, if allowed, could spin a mountain out of a mole’s tale.
The courtier grinned. He knew he had been aptly caught“Pardon your humble servant” He bowed exaggeratedly. His face almost touched the earth “A one-eyed witch they call for she was born with one eye” Kwesi the courtier whispered. Deepening his voice and gesturing dramatically as he spoke.
“I do not jest my king,” Kwesi added feverishly, for he’d seen the look of disbelief shared by both father and son. “I can bring her before you if you please.” Scratching his overgrown beard “Although she’s been known to be a recluse one, never leaving the loom”
“Bring her before me,” The King said after the Prince whispered in his ears.
CHAPTER 4
And so it was that Akua and her grandmother were summoned before the King.
***
The royal workshop, lit by daylight filtering through the bamboo walls, becomes the setting for Akua’s change. The loom was already set up with threads of reds, blues, black and every colour that could be used to create a masterpiece. Akua’s eyes sparkled with interest at the strange colours and threads. She closed her eye for a moment allowing the colours to tell their tale then she opened her eyes and picked up the colourful spools of thread. Akua had never felt more alive. It felt like a trance with each colourful spool of colours speaking to her, pouring out their emotions and telling her their stories.
“Colours are not just pigments; they are emotions,” Akua starts, her fingers carefully picking threads of different colours. “In Kente, every colour has a meaning, a story waiting to be told.”
She pauses, looking at the colours before her. “Take this, this bright red. It represents the blood of our ancestors, a tribute to their sacrifices and resilience. When woven into the fabric, it is a strong statement of our collective strength.”
As Akua started to weave the red threads into the patterns on the loom, the workshop became filled with warm and intense energy. The red, like fire spreading across the fabric, told their story of passion and determination through her with every bead of sweat that appeared and melted like wax on her skin. The heartbeat of all present echoed rhythmically with each movement of the loom.
The King broke the silence and asked with admiration, “My daughter, tell us, how do you decide which colours to use together? Is there a specific meaning behind the combinations?”
Akua smiled as her heart warmed. No one aside from her grandmother had ever called her daughter. “Yes, My King. There is. The combinations are intentional, each one carrying a unique meaning. When we pair this fiery red with the sky blue. It represents the balance between passion and serenity. It’s a visual representation of the dualities in our lives.” The King nodded in approval. He had never thought there was any hidden meaning behind the patterns before. He bought them because he could afford them.
Akua moves on to other colours, deepening the pattern. The speed she worked with a fever and speed that left everyone gaping and marvelling around her. As Akua progresses through the colours, she arrives at a muted palette of earthy tones. “These browns and greys,” she explains, “are a nod to the earth, grounding us in our roots. They symbolise humility and connection to the land that sustains us.”
***
In the background, while Akua had worked and spoken, Prince Osei had silently watched, absorbing every movement and word of this woman who he found intriguing.
“She will be in charge of the fabrics for the feast. Both the ones for the royal family and the one for the seven maidens selected for you” The King whispered to Osei.
“As you please My King” Osei said never for once taking his eyes off Akua.
As so it was also that night that the Prince couldn’t go to see. The thought of the strange maiden — with eyes so grey that they reminded of the cloud after it rained, plagued his thoughts. The weight of his responsibility seemed like a burden for the first time.
CHAPTER 5
Akua noticed the Prince watching her. Felt him inspecting her like she was some strange creature. She grimaced as she messed up a pattern she was weaving. What was wrong with her? Everything it seemed was not wrong with her since she came to this palace at the King’s order.
She had wanted to decline the King’s offer to make fabrics for the feast but her grandmother had interfered — as though she’d read her thoughts, leaving her no room but to accept the offer since she couldn’t publicly defy her grandmother.
“It seems even the master weaver herself isn’t void of human tendencies” Akua looks up to see Prince Osei motioning the guards and maidens —the king had ordered to assist her, to leave.
“I needed them” Akua frowned, only slightly able to keep the anger she felt from her voice. She didn’t want to be alone with him. She couldn’t explain it but he made her uncomfortable.
“For? From what I hear you don’t even let them close enough to help. You prefer doing everything alone.” He said matter of factly. “I was only giving them a well-deserved break”
Akua frowned; she didn’t like that people were talking about them. What is this? Was that why he had sent them away? So he could berate her privately? She wished her grandmother had listened to her when she said she didn’t want to be here. “I didn’t mean to make them uncomfortable. I… just used to being alone” Akua gripped the brown plain material of her waist wrapper. Where had that come from? It made her look lonely and needy and she didn’t want to appear lonely before this man. “I meant working alone. I’m used to working alone” She finished awkwardly without looking at him. She returned to lose the wrong pattern she’d created with her woolgathering from earlier.
Osei gazed at her for so long that Akua almost begged him to stop. But then he stalked closer“May I help?” he said, taking the knotted thread from her. Her skin tingled deliciously as their skin touched. But Osei on the other hand was unaffected as he worked the knots loose without even as much as a glance her way. “There you go,” he said, taking her hands to place them back on the threads. Akua jerked back her hands with such force that she inspired a shocked look from him but he said nothing.
Akua rose from the stool and walked to the opposite side of the workshop. Physical put some distance between them“How can I help you, your Highness” She said calmly despite the ragings within her. She didn’t understand why he was here taunting her or her reaction to him; she wished her grandmother was here to explain this to her. Nana always knew what to say.
For a while, he stood studying her with an intensity that made her hands itch to cover her missing eye spot. Akua suddenly felt the urge to run. But by some guts whose origin she couldn’t fathom stood and stared back. Wanting to do more than just stare. To touch his charming face as she did the threads. And oh what great arms he had. Would they feel as intimidating as they looked?
“I want us to be friends” He suddenly said. Akua almost went deaf from the mad pounding of her heart. Had she heard him right?
CHAPTER 6
“He’s Pities her. You know how King Prince Osei is” Aku heard one of the seven maidens choose to be picked by Prince Osei say, as they sat on the mat discussing after the day’s rehearsal. She had come to inform them after discussing with the King that she was done with their fabrics. And was also hoping to catch a glimpse of the rehearsal. She loved how beautifully maidens hips swayed and their feet moved to the beats of the drum as their sonorous voice filled the ear.
That had been an error on her path.
Another of them said, “Yes I agree because our crown prince can not be interested in that…” The maiden broke off and spat on the earth.
Breath seemed to whoosh out of Akua as she saw the look of disgust on the maiden’s face. She held the wall to support her quivering feet. It was the most dehumanising feeling. Was that how people saw her? As a scum of the earth. Suddenly she felt like the child she once was — prone to the hurt and self-hate of her identity. What a fool she was forgetting for a moment that people saw her as anything other than a monster.
She walked away in a stupor and suddenly she was awash in memory. Osei — as he had made her promise to call him, despite her first refusal of his hand of friendship had constantly invaded her solitude in the workshop until she accepted his hand in friendship. She remembered how lightheaded she had felt that day as he held her hand looking into her eye and the empty spot —as though there was an eye there. Honestly, she felt had two eyes that day. “We’re friends now and I’m going to shamelessly disrupt your solitude with my royal presence” She had stopped breathing for a minute when he winked at her and playfully tapped her nose.
“What does this mean?” Osei said, pointing to a complex pattern on the loom casually holding on to her hand as one would an elusive friend. Friend, She contemplated the word sadly it was the first time anyone ever called or considered her as such. The children when she was a child were too scared to look at her not to think of befriending her. She had never felt she could be anyone’s friend until—
Akua silently drew back her hands, despite how good his skin had felt on hers. He shot her a look that said he knew she was trying to keep him out.”These geometric shapes represent unity. Squares symbolise the family unit, the connection between generations. Triangles represent the balance between the individual and the community.” She said finally finding her voice.
“Please tell me more” he motioned for her to sit on her working stool. After she sat he brought a bench close to her and sat down. Raising curious black eyes at her.
“Kente cloth is beautiful because it changes with us,” she began “We wear bright patterns such as those for celebrations” Akua Pointed to some of the finished festival fabrics on the wooden rack. Ignoring what they represented—an end to this dream with him. She continued “And sombre colours for mourning. It’s a silent conversation with the world, a way to express our shared emotions”
Osei silently absorbed her words for a moment before he spoke.”So, Kente cloth isn’t just about creating something beautiful; it’s about telling a story that everyone can understand.”
“Exactly,” She had agreed, touched by the depth of his understanding. “It’s a language that goes beyond words. When someone sees an individual wearing Kente cloth, behind it is a history, values, a unity of our people and their personal story.”
And so they had spoken till the stars lit the sky about kente about everything about their family, their childhood with only the rhythmic dance of the loom as she wove — with him assisting her. And every day from then she became addicted to him. Anticipated his visit, their conversation… His company. She’d never spoken or laughed with anyone aside from her grandma and didn’t even think she had it in her to be so free until… Osei.
CHAPTER 6
Akua screamed in fright as someone jumped out at her. “Relax, it’s only me,” Osei grinned, looking unreasonably handsome in a Kente fabric of yellow and green patterns.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” she said. The words sounded more cold than she had intended. “I’m sorry for my rudeness, your Highness. I don’t seem to be good company right now. I’ll just excuse myself” She curtsied and began to escape—
“Wait!” Osei said, grabbing her by the waist. The touch was sudden and unexpected. She gasped and yanked his hands away.
If she wasn’t so flustered and out of her mind she would have dared to say she saw something like hurt flash past his eyes. At her forceful removal of her person from him. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to give this to you” He said, handing her a wooden box.
She was grateful when her hands didn’t tremble as she reached to take the little box from him. Although she felt heat infuse her fingers all the way to her toes as their hands touched.
“Open it” He beamed clearly unaware of her reaction to him. After all, a monster such as she had no right to be attracted to someone way above her league. It annoyed her today that she was the only one with these stupid reactions while he carried on unaffected.
“Isn’t this a piece of the kente fabric you wove the other day?” She smiled beside herself remembering how adamant he had been. Insisting on weaving the little piece himself. Only consenting to her assistance after many failed weaving and knotted threads later. At first, she’d laughed and teased him but later she became curious about why he didn’t want her weaving the little material for him. But she had been too much of a coward to ask him lest he said it was for a lover.
Seeing the piece now tucked in the box almost undid her. She felt her heart thud uncontrollably as it had taken to doing when he was about. Her hands trembled as she picked it up. Akua Froze, her heart shattering into a million pieces as she brought out the fabric —
“An eye patch” She was surprised she didn’t stutter “You made me an eye patch?” She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. Fearing she might see the same look of disgust that had been on the maiden’s face.
Akua felt like dying right there as he said “I noticed you didn’t have one. I also noticed you never wear any kente fabric despite how much work you put into making it for others. I want you to wear it. I want you to come for the festival”
Akua only half heard him as all her senses focused on the servants coming and going. Staring at them. Possibly laughing. Laughing at her stupidity, for thinking someone as perfect as he was would look at her with love.
Has he always felt this way? Felt disgusted to look at her as others did, looking at everywhere but her face. Had those times together out of pity or worse a way of amusing himself. She took slow shaky breaths to hold the tears that threatened at bay. “I never asked for your friendship and most definitely never asked for this” His eyes rounded in shock as she dropped the box and eye patch on the earth.
“I…l” he stuttered. “It’s not what you think. Please just listen to me Akua” She backed away as he reached to touch her.
Fixing him with a cold stare that she knew would be further intensified by her missing eye, “I only came here at the King’s behest and now that I’m done with my work. I believe we have nothing more in common”
Without giving him any time to speak. To say anything that would further break her she walked away. Leaving him and the servants gaping at her. For the first time, Akua did not care for the consequences of her actions.
CHAPTER 7
Now, it was so that Akua, so hurt by what she termed the betrayal of Prince Osei, left the palace immediately. On her way home she had a strange encounter.
***
Akua comfortably walked on a lonely path surrounded by tall palm trees and thick bushes. She had walked this part enough to know it was safe. This path had been her escape from the attention and whispers of the villagers. As she walked the familiar path that evening at an intersection she caught sight of herself in a little puddle of water on the ground.
Moving closer she inspected herself. Her thick black hair had begun to peep out from the Bantu knots she’d made them into some fortnight ago — she’d suddenly felt the need to dress up for him. She laughed bitterly now remembering his remark about her not wearing kente. If only he knew how much she loved kente, how much she dreamed of adorning herself in them just like the young maidens her age. The mockery from the kids, when she was much younger, had told her how she looked in them—
Ugly.
She folded her hands forcefully shutting out the memory. Her problem was not with the plain fabric she wore but —
Her hands went to the smooth empty spot where her right eye should have been. There was no scar there, it was as smooth as the rest of her brown skin. Smooth. Her hand shook, robbing on it. The spot was smooth — not even a little mole, like the sculptor, had no intention of ever putting in an eye. At the thought, she felt a great sense of bitterness and anger. What wrong had she done to be punished this way? Why couldn’t she be normal like everyone? What was her crime to be cursed with such a life? This one thing she’d ever wanted since accepting the pain of her parent’s mysterious death she couldn’t have? While maidens her age got selected to be picked as wives for the crown prince. She was only fit to wave their clothes. Oh, what wouldn’t she give to get an eye?
Akua glared at the sky. Letting the tears fall now. She said “Her grandmother was wrong you make mistakes”
The moment Akua said those, she saw the sky suddenly get cloudy. A sudden thunder dropped from the sky landing on the puddle of water in front of Akua. The force of the collision was so fast that it splashed water on Akua’s face before she could react. Then it was still all around. The sun was shining so bright that Akua felt the burn on her skin.
Slowly she removed her hands from her face and before her stood the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Her dark skin glowed with an intensity that made one feel that it most definitely burned. And her beautiful mass of black hair spread elegantly cupping her immaculate face. Her lips were luxuriant, her eyes the most amazing shade of the sky on its best day. Her flowy white and black kente robe gave a clue of her voluptuous curves as she moved toward Akua. The patterns on her robe were so strange that Akua could only feel but not describe them. As Akua gazed at the patterns her feelings fluctuated —Sorrow gave way to joy then joy gave way to fear and with fear came peace.
As the beautiful woman got close suddenly the pattern woven in black seemed to illuminate a light that limned the whole robe. Akua screamed and fell to her feet as right before her the beautiful woman shrivelled and transformed. Her glittering skin became ashy and shrivelled, her lips badly broken and her brilliant eyes sunken. The lush mass of her hair shrunk until the flesh on her head became visible. Before she stood tall and effective, approaching Akua but now she was inclined and weak. Shivering as she approached.
Akua almost collapsed when she peered down at her. “Fickle isn’t beauty?” The woman said simply. As though she didn’t just transform before Akua’s very own eye. “That’s what you almost cursed your maker for?” She looked at Akua as one would an insolent child and continued. “All for what? For an eye you don’t need. Tell me have you ever slept a day without food in your belly? Have you ever had to lie in constant pain from a disease no one could cure but still death doesn’t yield? Have you ever woken up to the cry of your loved ones slayed before your very eye?” She pulled Akua’s head forward. Forcing her to look into her hollow eye. Her eyes contained a portal of horror way beyond Akua’s imagination. Akua’s eyes widened in horror as she took in the gruesome scene. Her face turned a ghastly pale shade, and her mouth widened in a silent scream. She stayed frozen trembling from head to toe.
“No” Akua cried, backing away. Her hands flew to her eye in an instinctive gesture of protection. “Make it stop” She screamed wildly. Wishing her eye hadn’t beheld what it had.
“Look at me” The woman held Akua in place. The moment her hands touched Akua. The torment seized. Akua slowly removed her hand from her eye as the woman urged again “Look at me” This time more gently. Akua stared into the amazing set of sky-like eyes again— gone was the sunken darkness. “Come with me,” The woman said, pulling Akua up. “I have a gift for you”.
As they got to the puddle of water where the thunder had struck she said “Look into it and tell me what you see”
Akua did and when she looked in she saw the Prince leaving her grandmother’s hut. He looked sad, dishevelled and unlike his usual collected self.
“I see the Prince” She croaked painfully. The pain from before returning. He didn’t love her. “Why does he look sad” She looked at the woman curiously.
The woman, probably not hearing Akua’s question or choosing to ignore it pointed at the puddle “Look again”
Akua looked back at the woman when she only saw her dishevelled reflection. “I only see myself,” she said.
“Closely. Look, “she urged. At first, Akua wondered what she was to see then she noticed it—
“Two. I… I have two eyes” She stammered. Excitedly to them. But her hand met with smooth skin, not an eye on her right. She looked again into the puddle and saw a pair of eyes staring at her but when she tried to touch it her hand met with a smooth spot. “What’s going on,” She croaked. She must be losing her mind.
The woman smiled mysteriously “Don’t bother with it. That’s a mirage you see.” She continued when Akua stood gaping at her. “Just as the first one with the Prince. Now the amazing thing is that I can make these mirages a reality” Her lips curled upward in a smile that sent shivers rushing through Akua. “But, I’m only allowed to make one mirage a reality. They both have consequences of which I can only reveal one”
Akua stood frozen on the earth as the woman approached her. “So tell me, my child. What mirage shall I make your reality and what consequence shall I reveal.”
