Nigerian artisans preserve handwoven fabric amid rising global demand
- Last updated: June 8, 2026 | 08:54
In Iseyin, a sleepy town in southwestern Nigeria, shaded spaces under trees, makeshift sheds and narrow alleys double as production hubs for aso-oke, a handwoven fabric indigenous to the Yoruba ethnic group. Demand for the fabric has recently soared at home and abroad, boosted by Nigerians in the diaspora and the rising global popularity of the country’s fashion and music culture. Yet the artisans making it are resisting mechanisation, insisting that handweaving is what makes it unique.
Located about 200 kilometres from the cultural and fashion centre that is Lagos, Iseyin is considered the home of aso-oke. Under a sweltering sun on a muggy morning, yards of yarn and freshly woven fabrics stretch and tangle across a dusty space, surrounded by weathered sheds where weavers labour behind wooden looms.
Young people, including university graduates, flock to Iseyin to learn a craft that has become an economic lifeline for many. Bare-chested, his tattooed biceps glistening, Franscisco Waliu sat at his wooden loom, its steady click-clack filling the air as he wove a cream-and-blue fabric. A decade ago, Waliu ditched his career as a singer in Lagos nightclubs to learn aso-oke weaving.
He admits he initially struggled with the physical demands of weaving but doesn’t regret his move. “Now I earn a decent living from weaving aso-oke and I’m satisfied,” the 34-year-old told AFP.
Aso-oke, which loosely translated means “the cloth from up country”, is a thick fabric, often vibrantly multicoloured, which has become a staple in Nigeria, Africa’s fashion capital. It is used in traditional ceremonial wear, as well as statement fashion garments and casual wear. Strips get sewn onto other types of fabric outfits, giving them a touch of colour and class. Meghan Markle donned an aso-oke wrapper and a shoulder shawl during a visit to Nigeria two years ago with her husband, Britain’s Prince Harry.
In Iseyin, the steady rhythm of old, wooden looms is the soundtrack to a tradition passed down through generations. Aso-oke remains both a cultural symbol and a marker of identity. In the past, production included preparing threads from cotton or silk. The fibres were cleaned, spun into yarn and dyed, often using trditional methods, before being set out on looms. Colour options were limited then.
Today, weavers increasingly rely on loom-ready threads in a variety of colours “mostly imported from China”, said 42-year-old weaver Abdulhammed Ajasa. Artisans work for hours setting threads on looms to create narrow, tightly patterned strips, which are later sewn together into wider cloths for garments and accessories.
“This is what Iseyin is known for,” Kareem Adeola, 35, said from behind his loom. “We inherited it from our forefathers.”
While many weavers in Iseyin are middle-aged men, younger people like Waliu are entering the trade, bringing new ideas and skills.
Some engage graphic artists to develop new designs.
Despite rising demand, the craft has largely stuck to its rudimentary roots. Attempts to mechanise production have been limited or largely failed. “If you use a machine to weave aso-oke, it won’t come out as nice as if it was handwoven,” said Adeola, weaving a yellow-and-olive piece. “People have tried it before and it did not work. It is meant by God to be handwoven.”
Sticking to traditional weaving methods means strain and comes with health risks linked to prolonged sitting, one weaver remarked.
Yet weavers insist the painstaking process defines the fabric’s authenticity. Traditionally worn by the Nigerian rich and ruling class on special occasions, it now adorns designer studios in major cities, is exhibited on runways in London and Paris and is crafted into shoes, bags and purses. “It is no longer reserved for special occasions,” Isiaq Yahaya, a 45-year-old mathematician, told AFP.
Designers say aso-oke’s growing international exposure has catapulted it into a global fabric but has also raised concerns about cultural ownership. “There is nothing wrong with your culture being worn by other people,” said Ayomitide Okungbaye, the 31-year-old creative director of Lagos-based Tide Chen, who has exhibited aso-oke designs in London.
“Where we start to have a problem is when there’s misappropriation or people start to claim ownership.” Adire, another Yoruba fabric produced using the tie-dye technique, is already reeling under the effect of Chinese counterfeiting.
Meanwhile, gazing at two large engraved 16th-century elephant tusks on display at Nigeria’s National Museum Lagos, a guide surprised visitors by telling them: “You can touch them gently”. One of the three galleries at the museum in Nigeria’s cultural and entertainment hub has been remodelled to allow visitors to interact with some artefacts, reversing the typical ban on touching exhibits, as well as take unrestricted photographs in an effort to engage younger audiences, curator Nkechi Adedeji told AFP.
As the group felt the texture of the elephant tusks to the tune of Afrobeats softly playing on overhead speakers, a young photographer was busy snapping away, likely for a social media post. According to Tinuke Odunfa, the interior designer of the gallery, the plan was to modernise the space and present Nigerian history in an “intentional” and “immersive” environment.
Agence France-Presse