A kikoi is more than just a cloth. Worn, wrapped, or draped, or spread, it’s a versatile garment that makes the ultimate travel companion or trans seasonal wardrobe staple.

The beauty of the kikoi lies in its multi-functionality. Whether used as a sarong, scarf, lightweight throw, beach wrap or baby sling, it’s a staple for travel and everyday life. With a durable weave that makes it a cherished companion for years to come.

Breezy and beach-bag ready, the simple (but mighty) kikoi carries with it the spirit of a sun-soaked coastline, or unhurried days on holiday.

The Story Behind the Kikoi

The kikoi, a rectangular piece of woven cloth, holds a rich history rooted in East Africa, particularly along the Swahili coast. Originally introduced by Arab traders centuries ago, the kikoi quickly evolved into a cultural icon, loved for both its vibrant patterns and practical use. Traditionally used as sarongs, kikois also serve a variety of purposes, including shawls, scarves, head wraps or throws.

Kikois, a versatile travel companion

Lightweight and quick-drying, the kikoi is a versatile companion for days on the go, and summer holiday adventuring – easily stashed in your beach tote or hiking backpack, transitioning from a quick-drying beach towel to a scarf or wrap when the sun dips. Sprawl it out over grass as a picnic blanket, wrap up your souvenirs in your travel case, or convert it into a baby sling if you’ve got a little one in tow.

It’s the year-round, well-loved companion for any adventure – one that makes the ultimate gift for any friend or family member.

GOTS-Certified Organic Cotton

The Organic Ruti Kikoi is woven from GOTS-certified organic cotton. The Global Organic Textile Standard (GOTS) is a globally recognised certification that ensures that the cotton is grown without synthetic pesticides or fertilisers – safeguarding soil health, water quality, and biodiversity. It also upholds ethical labour standards, ensuring fair treatment of farmers and workers throughout the supply chain.

This naturally cultivated cotton results in a fabric that’s gentle on the skin, soft to the touch and breathable for year-round use.

Woven on Traditional Shuttle Looms

Our Organic Ruti Kikois are woven at our mill in Plettenberg Bay on our mid-century Ruti looms. 

One of the distinguishing features of the Ruti loom is its shuttle – a wooden bobbin inside which rests the yarn-carrying pirn. The shuttle, which flies back and forth across the warp (or vertical threads), has the unique ability to produce a true selvedge. This tightly woven, self-finished edge, which runs the length of the woven cloth, requires no extra hemming, and is a hallmark of traditional shuttle loom weaving. You’ll find the selvedge on our Lancashire loom products – our Summer Towels, and baby blankets – as well as our Linen Scarves. Look out for it as a sign of artisanal, small-batch textile weaving.

Traditional Weaving, Timeless Design

Our Ruti looms form a key piece in our story of textile making through the ages (at the Mungo Mill you’ll find a display of weaving techniques and technology right back from prehistoric times to present day). 

Our Rutis, thought to date around 1960, are semi-automatic pirn-change looms. These looms, at one time the height of weaving technology, stop when the shuttle runs out of thread. This intelligent feature revolutionise the industry, improving efficiency, and allowing a single weaver to operate multiple looms at once. 

At our mill, you’ll find two Rutis in operation. Pay a visit and see them in action – our mill doors are always open for visitors.

More from our blog:

Getting the GOTS | This one’s for you, Earth | The 2024 Kids of Kurland Kikoi

Take part in our Mungo x AGULHAS giveaway and stand a chance to win an AGULHAS Mokarran Mask and snorkel, and a Mungo Cotton Changing Towel. Competition open until 6 December 2024.

Hanli Prinsloo is a South African freediver, ocean advocate and the founder of I AM WATER Foundation. Recently, she has launched AGULHAS – a sustainable freediving brand aimed at connecting people to the ocean – for good.

Through our annual Swim Club, a five-day early morning swim challenge designed to reconnect, refresh and raise funds for ocean conservation and community upliftment, we’ve collectively raised over R150,000 for Hanli’s foundation, I AM WATER. We last spoke to her after the wrap up of our 2022 Swim Club – read the story, The Art of Being Optimistic.

The last time I interviewed you, you had a newborn… What has it been like passing on your love of the sea to them? Have they taken to it as much as you have?

We try to spend as much time in nature with them as we can – in the ocean, in the mountains, visiting rivers… they love it. When we’re at the beach, Peter and I are like kids at the rockpools – just looking at life and spending time observing all the kritters – and the kids are exactly the same; they can spend hours exploring, talking about the little animals. My oldest is already an avid swimmer and is a very good little diver. And the youngest is so funny – at swim lessons he actually doesn’t even kick or practice his stroke – he goes into a little aqua trance and just floats and relaxes. So I don’t know if we’re paying for swimming lessons for him or aqua meditation but either way he loves being in the water!

Do you have a ritual around swimming or taking a dip?

Buying a nice coffee and taking it with me, tucking it into my towel while I go for a swim, and then just sitting quietly, watching the ocean and feeling the salt on my skin after. I also have this little ritual that as soon as I walk into the sea and my feet touch the water, I greet the ocean in Swedish. I started this ritual when I was living in Sweden and got into freediving. I’ll say, ‘Hey Havet’ before I dip my toes in.

Where’s your go-to swim spot if you want to take a dip?

If I’m at the office and I only have like half an hour to run down, then I’ll just jump into one of the tidal pools and have a peek at the kelp forest. Otherwise even jumping in Silvermine Dam or some of the amazing bodies of water around Cape Town. As long as I can get my gills wet almost every day, I’m fine.

Thoughts on the Mungo Cotton Changing Towel?

Coming out of the ocean you often just want to feel comfortable and warm, and get a little bit dry, but not too hot – I don’t like to put on thick things straight away. So the Cotton Changing Towel for me just felt like the perfect mix of cosy, soft and super absorbent. The colours are also so beautiful. I love the Kids Changing Towels – they are so cute. The colours, the feel, the fit – they just look like ocean gnomes and it’s adorable! I can’t wait for the whole family to be traipsing around in our towels all day.

What is the spirit behind AGULHAS?

AGULHAS was born from our own need for sustainable freediving equipment. Every year we would run expeditions around the world, teaching people free diving in the most beautiful places; speaking about conservation, and supporting conservation initiatives – all the while not being able to recommend equipment that’s friendly to the ocean and to the planet. Eventually we had spoken about this on so many of our trips, that friends of ours who had travelled with us on all our freediving trips said, “How about you guys design the product that doesn’t exist on the market?” So it really was a meeting of minds, visions and passions for more sustainable ocean exploration equipment. The name AGULHAS, like the Southern tip of Africa, speaks of a really wild, free ocean lifestyle.

AGULHAS defines itself as ‘business unusual’ – what does that mean?

In business as usual, it’s all about the bottom line. We’ve never been only about making money. It’s about preserving our oceans, finding opportunities for experience, and creating community.

How is sustainable design incorporated into an AGULHAS product?

Our flagship product at launch is our Mokarran Freediving Mask. Generally diving masks are made from a bunch of materials that are overmolded and designed in a way that they can never be taken apart and at the end of life it just goes into landfill. The Mokarran Mask is made in a way that’s fully modular – which means you can take the mask apart, and replace any damaged or broken pieces. Or the pieces that still work can be put towards a new product. So it’s about durability and repairability.

How does AGULHAS encourage making the ocean a place for all?

I’ve taught freediving for about 20 years, and working with thousands of people, I’ve really understood what the barriers are to the ocean – sometimes they are socioeconomic, which is a lot of what we work with at I AM WATER – making the ocean more accessible for others. But sometimes it’s about fear and being more comfortable in the ocean, and equipment plays a big role here. People often say I’m too claustrophobic to dive or I’d love to see the ocean below but the gear is so cumbersome. So to make beautiful, streamlined, comfortable equipment does make it more accessible for people who have not been able to find comfort in the ocean.

What’s something that keeps you grounded?

Staying connected to nature and the ocean in particular is what keeps me sane and able to keep going. Also prioritising living and working close to the sea – I see the ocean almost all the time and what a privilege that is. And deep, slow breaths – our breath connects us to the ocean immediately, and everytime we sit down and take a deep slow breath we calm our parasympathetic nervous system and remind ourselves that oxygen comes from the ocean.

Our 2022 story was entitled ‘The Art of Being Optimistic’ because that was such an apparent and inspiring theme to our first conversation. What continues to drive and inspire you?

I still choose to be optimistic – and it still continues to be a choice, right? Because there’s still as many things to be deeply pessimistic about as there are to remain optimistic about. I’m still very much driven by the joy of being underwater. But now, having small children, I’m even more driven by protecting the beautiful wilderness for them to experience one day and have in their lives.

Featured Products

More from our blog:

The Art of Being Optimistic | Talking to Hanli Prinsloo  | Such is Love | In the Kitchen with Karen Dudley

In conversation with David Plenderleith and Florian Baumann, the hands behind Très Nagual – an all-natural, holistic perfumery based in Cape Point. From their unassuming home base between the aloes, across from Scarborough’s iconic Scone Shack, you’ll find the pair producing small-batch, consciously crafted soaps and scents.

Find their custom-made liquid hand soaps now in our stores.

“Smell this”

The door is open to the sun. There are aloes and a purple-grey mountain. It is late afternoon; the in-between stage when the air settles into stillness. In a place where time seems to have slowed down.

David picks up a bottle of scent. He sprays the air. The fine mist catches the slow light. And instantly the room is redolent with a rich perfume. The kind that makes you close your eyes. Take a breath.

“Dry incense.”

Holy basil. Immortelle. Sandalwood.

“It’s like earth.”

There’s something about scent that shifts the energy in the room now. A softening. An opening. An ease. This is play. This is letting go. This is how friends are made.

“Scent is such a delicate perceptual door. It is much more subliminal, almost subconscious, in the way the messages come through. It can captivate. It can entice. It can shun. It holds this etheric feeling, because you can’t really see it. Present, and then fleeting. On a molecular level, natural scent is free to move. And the moment someone thinks they understand scent, it changes.”

“Shapeshifting?”

“Shapeshifting, in a way. But yet it’s formless. So there’s no form to shift.”

People amble into the shop. We fall quiet and watch. The easing, the opening, is happening for others too.

“Shifts happen within a realm of feeling. I’ve seen it so many times. Someone may enter the space, hunched, or not happy. Tense. After some time with Florian, they come out lighter and lifted. In some ways it’s the product speaking. But it’s also the transmission that happens. And for our work to uplift, that is essentially the way that aromatherapy works in healing the mind, body and emotions. But we’re doing it in a more contemporary way – rather than in treatment rooms behind closed doors, we want to make it accessible. Scent becomes an ambience that is created.”

It’s quite easy to see now. This is a place of feeling. Of learning. And perhaps unlearning too. This is experience, more than retail. In fact, the very idea that something is being sold here seems to slip away. What’s taking place is much more. The undoing, the connecting, the softening. One could easily be swept through the open doors on a yellow breeze, and casually stay forever.

“What surprises you the most about what happens here?”

“What surprises me is that people come,” says Florian. “And that is such a pleasure. It is a journey. Plants, and their essences, their memories, their function – they become your own. I like to see the bigger picture, and to take more into account than just the perfume. To look at the ‘why, how, when, and for what reason’? And I like to ask people, ‘How is your mother?’

Perhaps this says it all. The point of connection. The intimacy that can be created between strangers that soon become friends.

We are standing outside now, looking in. A girl comes to the door. She’s ridden her bicycle here. Her name is Fran. She greets Florian warmly and goes in. A new scent journey is about to begin.

“Another surprise is that whenever I am cutting soap I get a lot of people crowded around me, and they say, ‘Oh, that’s amazing! Is that a big bar of soap? I never thought that’s how it’s made.’”

But of course. So little process happens in plain sight. The same recognition that happens here, happens in the Mungo Mill. Faces turn in wonder. Shifts happen. Thoughts tick in time with the looms.

“Flo’s background is in biology,” David tells me. “He holds a scientific approach to formulation. He also trained as a chef at Silwood in Cape Town. So there’s that unique combination of gastronomy, textures, taste and smell, with the understanding of plants and their function. I would say the dance with us is that every product has both our hands. Florian brings a sense of compassionate craftsmanship; logic and thoroughness. I feel we really inspire each other and lead each other to new places of expression in the way that we co-create. We work to our strengths, and allow a space for the other to step into.”

We move inside. Now we are standing before a lineage of scents. Different batches of ‘Nefertūm.’ There are notes of lime, Amyris and blue lotus. Subtle variances in each.

“Try this one, Fran. The new batch.”

“What is interesting is that the new Nefertum lasts so long,” she says. “It’s so good. I sprayed it the other day, then I went for a bath and when I woke up I still had this scent – it was still there but it had changed. The batch that I get from your town shop is amazing. It has more of a floral base.”

We’re on to something here. The threads draw closer together. It’s about the nature of change. The changes in nature. It’s a reminder of the perfectly imperfect natural rhythms we should rest in.

“If I follow the cycles, some batches are very different from the others. The immortelle, for example, that grows out at Hemel-en-Aarde, is always different. The last batch is from a new field. The previous batch from a 3-year-old field. And so the oil is very different. But then I explain to the customers that this is the natural world, and it should be so. Once that is communicated, it actually becomes a quality unsurpassed.”

The understanding of seasonal shifts. The awareness of change. The sense of harmony. It’s a refreshing exhale in a world where uniformity has become the standard. A world obsessed with an illusion of perfection. David and Florian are small-batch, craft producers. Much like we are. They understand cycles and variances and the importance of flow. Of the mark of the maker. The mark of the material.

Another scent is introduced.

“What do you see?”

“It’s the forest.”

“Another layer to Florian is his understanding of the mind. The mechanisms of thinking. He formulates, creating an image, and then builds a scent from that place.”

“It’s wet, like the forest. Like moss, and deep, rich greens. And ferns.”

“Your words, they give me inspiration. Because now I see that I have permission to go deeper into the underground and maybe make it a little more soily too. Because you seem comfortable there, you see? So now I have direction for my next batch. That’s how seasons happen, how cycles come about. And that is my greatest freedom. So the next time you come, I’ll say, ‘Smell this – now it’s like wet terracotta.”

“This is one of my favourites,” says David, picking up Savon à Barbe. It’s a play of organic tea tree from Zimbabwe, Pure Bergamot, Virginian Cedarwood, lots of Patchouli and a touch of Sandalwood. It’s very clean – there’s a lightness. I get an image of a day at the beach – being sun kissed and salty. A little bit of suncream.”

“White shells.”

“Mmmm.”

“An aspect of the work is in living in receptivity to not only our needs, or nature’s, but someone else’s. That takes it up to their depth – from their perspective. It’s listening, in the way we formulate.”

More people come, and go, and play. Apprehensive, reserved at first. And then the lessening. The loosening. The easing into peace. The quiet healing.

“Matching scent to personality is another layer of experience. Flo has become very good at this – reading people and matching them to a scent. Perhaps something on the playful side; fruity and floral. Or we might talk about the intention of the scent, and see if that is an energy they want to step into.”

It is the closing of the light now. Three hours have passed quietly. The mountain grows its purple shadow.

“There are mornings here where the aloes are full of dew. They look like the cosmos is resting inside of them. Luminous. And that energy, that vitality, that bit of freshness that doesn’t get tiring. That’s uplifting, and happy, and very medicinal – that is Hildegard. For me Hildegard’s image is like the first light of a new day.”

And what a perfect end. As the light of this one closes. It’s in the art of looking, isn’t it?

“There is that growing sense of consciousness. People are awakening to it. Becoming conscious of your surroundings, of your actions, of your feelings. There’s the practical side – turning around the bottle, looking at the label. Thinking about what I put on my skin, the cloth I use. They say that where attention goes, energy flows. What you look at, what you seek, is seeking you.”

A last look at that wise mountain. The glowing aloes. The magic is complete.

Find Très Nagual at their stores in Cape Point and Gardens. 

Or pay a visit to one of our stores in Cape Town, Joburg or Plettenberg Bay to discover one of their unique liquid hand soaps, custom made for Mungo using all-natural botanicals. 

The use of agrochemicals in the conventional cotton sector affects an estimated 44% of cotton farmers each year. The results of this are grim: soil degradation, water pollution, biodiversity loss and habitat destruction. Not to mention to the health risks associated with exposing cotton farmers to harsh chemical pesticides and fertilisers. A reaction to these conditions has witnessed many companies disengaging from cotton and opting for alternatives such as synthetics, in the form of cheap plastic-based fibres.

The result? It’s thought that 70% of the world’s clothes are now produced from plastic. And although many of us are more adept at saying no to single-use plastics (straws, single-use bottles and the like falling out of favour) we often forget about the toxic plastics in our clothing and textiles.

Cotton has been farmed and used for thousands of years. At any one time, everyone on the planet is wearing or using at least one article of cotton cloth a day. Not only in the everyday t-shirt, but in everything from bank notes to bubble-gum. Versatile, soft, breathable, absorbent, hypoallergenic, durable, biodegradable and renewable. It’s easy to sing its praises. But the production of cotton fibre into cloth has not been an unblemished one either. And although changing old systems is hard, at some point you have to strike out.

We continue to believe in using natural fibres. They feel better on the skin. Are better for the planet. They biodegrade, rather than not spending aeons in landfill.

We’re also committed to being transparent with our manufacturing. Which is why we open the door of our mill to you, each and every day. We don’t claim to possess all the answers, but we recognise that there are better ways to doing things. And that organic agriculture is part of this shift.

In 2020 we became South Africa’s first Global Organic Textile Standard (GOTS) certified mill. A world-leading standard for organic fibre processing, that has rigorous environmental and social ramifications – right from the soil and seed, to the finished product. Whilst not all our textiles are woven with organic cotton (we use OEKO-TEX certified linen and conventional Southern African grown cotton too), we’re committed to finding better ways to produce and to consume. To pursue sustainable stewardship. And to reflect that process with you too.

This Earth Day, we celebrate those textile standards that serve the betterment of our people and planet.

Find out more about our GOTS certification and organic journey here.

#happyearthday

Read next: Behind the Seams | The Hidden Cost of Fast Fashion

Organic Cotton Range

On Saturday, 9th of December, we gathered at Central Beach in Plettenberg Bay for an ‘Activation Swim’, to appeal and object to the CGG Seismic Blasting due to start January 2024,

Following the round-up of our 2023 Swim Club, an annual five day swim challenge held in Cape Town, Plettenberg Bay, and Knysna, we made the call to add on an additional swim, in response to the Seismic Blasting, which will have devastating impacts on our marine life, our tourism and local fishing livelihoods. We collected donations on the day for the vital work of the Plett Environmental Forum, a group dedicated to promoting and educating in environmental awareness, ensuring a clean and green environment, and actively participating in sustainable development projects.

Huge gratitude to everyone in our community who braved the rainy weather to swim with us, and make a donation. Thanks to our engaged swimmers, we raised R12,540 for the Plett Environmental Forum. And as promised, Mungo is doubling the impact by matching the donation.

If you’d like to support, please sign the petition below.

Navigating Paradox and Complexity

Paradox: I looked it up to get clarity before writing this.
This is an explanation.

“A statement that seems to contradict itself, or seems to go against itself, but may contain a basic or underlying truth when examined more closely.”

I suppose another way of looking at a paradox can be posed as a statement.
How not to be a hypocrite.
Or a question.
How do I stand for what I believe and not be a hypocrite?

In terms of sustainability the term paradox comes up a lot. So does the term complexity. To understand sustainability and the interconnection between humans and the planet one needs to spend some time thinking about paradox and complexity.

How do I stand against the seismic testing that has been approved off the coast of Plett when I drive my diesel bakkie to work and cook my food with gas?
Am I a hypocrite?
I guess I am if you wish to look at it in such binary terms as good and bad.
But it isn’t that simple, if only it were.
We don’t live in a fantasy world, it’s not simple and it’s not easy.

It’s complex.

We have a lot to thank fossil fuels for and we can’t just switch off the ‘tap’.
Every single one of us is inextricably linked and entirely complicit.
That’s what is being debated at COP28 right now.
The just transition.

And it’s a paradox.

I will drive my car to a protest against the very company that puts the fuel in the tank to get me there.
But my desire is pure. I mean well. We shouldn’t be blasting the oceans and extracting more pure carbon to stick into the atmosphere. The system needs to change.
So I believe that it’s our intent that counts.

I am searching for a different way.
Even when it makes me a hypocrite.
There isn’t much choice in that. I will embrace it. Try regardless.

It’s complex. It’s a paradox.

– Managing Director, Dax Holding

This is a story about a piece of cake. Let’s see where it goes.

There’s something that happens in my brain when I close my eyes and take a bite of the birthday cake Caroline has brought into the office. A burst of fireworks. Awakening a space of joy that sweeps out the mental cobwebs. Wipes off the darkened corners, where anxious thoughts have been collecting dust like antique furniture. Weighty, unlovely pieces that nobody likes, but that have been there for so long, there’s a kind of craven sentimentality. Oh, surely we can’t get rid of those? Who would I be without shame? My misplaced guilt?

I don’t think I’m alone in the sentiment that cake, and birthday cake specifically, holds a rare magic. One that speaks to whimsy and joy. Unshackled by age or the shrewd sensibleness that comes with it. Something on par with plunging feet-first into a crunchy pile of leaves. With the ridiculous and random delight of popping candy. To misattribute Dom Perignon, ‘Come quick, I am tasting the stars!’

Disillusioned.

In another life, I studied Journalism. Four years followed by quick disillusionment. A quest for storytelling and human-to-human connection turned sour by what soon became clear – that we are hooked on sensationalism. Drawn to the deathtrap of negativity. Sex sells – but tragedy sells better. A short-lived, toe-dip into the field (a smattering of internships, really) from since I have fought against the onslaught of righteous and unappeased comments from my mother, who cannot understand why I am not inclined to pick up a newspaper or watch the news. ‘How can you not know what’s going on in the world?’ To me, this is entirely subjective. A scope of ‘what’s going on’ varies depending on who’s asking, on whose story is being told. And the answer to that is wrapped up in politics and influence and advertising and…

Let’s just curtail this by saying that I am not an ostrich when it comes to the goings on of the world. But I am selective.

The Golden Snitch

A decade on, there are a few things I can take away from a Journalism degree. Besides the fact that I am lily-livered and have little grit for the gutsy world of hard news, there is one distilling point. It’s about the merry chase of the industry – the elusive Golden Snitch. Objectivity. There is no such thing. There is no universal truth. And should anyone tell you otherwise they need to be knocked down a peg or three. Whilst we might quest for a vision (a version, really) of veracity, the media world is no doubt negatively bent. Underpinned by a fear-mongering mentality that, if you allow it, would leave us all acutely agoraphobic. Pinned behind closed doors with the last stand of the doomsdayers.

Cold, hard fact.

This is not an exercise in denialism. Real crises – political, social, economic, environmental – are rupturing the planet on a daily basis. They have been, and will continue to do so. But this is not a story about that. This is a call for optimism. A stake on the revolutionary power of hope. Not reductive, or toxic, positivity. But hope and joy as forces for change. As energising agents.

The importance of optimism

Recently I was surprised by a conversation with champion freediver and ocean conservationist, Hanli Prinsloo. By her refreshing take on the importance of being optimistic. In her words, hopelessness would ‘spell the death of everything we care for.’ Because without hope, with only apathy as an ally, why would we change? Why would we act differently, forge on, or look for better ways of doing things? If there was nothing left to fight for, why even get out of bed in the morning?

Mungo?

Two years ago, on a weekend away, I had a casual conversation with the owner of the guesthouse I was staying at. I told her where I worked. Mungo? As she waved me off her property, and I thanked her for an enjoyable stay, she said 9 words that have reverberated in my memory ever since. Mungo really is the shining light of South Africa. I profess in writing this into the story, there may be a sense of immodesty. But I knew what she meant. That amidst all the stories of gloom that characterise our daily landscape, that ripple through our conversations, peppered no doubt with a South African sense of humour, that it was good, refreshing, to see a story of success. Of growth and hope and expansion. Of a company striving for something better. We deserve that – to hear stories of hope. We’ve earned it. Hope is also perhaps the greatest driver for change, the richest source of inspiration, the sharpest tool at our disposal, that will allow us to envisage a world better than this one. A place liveable for all.

Let’s talk

In August, Mungo participated in the line-up for the 2023 African Textile Talks. An annual event, hosted by Twyg and Imiloa Collective, that offers a full day of inspiring talks and panel discussions that shine a light on – and celebrate – innovations around sustainability, environmentalism and circularity in the fashion, craft and textile industries.

Talks were presented by engaging speakers from around the continent. Stories of change and promise. But also stories that brought us down to earth. Like the representatives of the OR foundation, who showed us pictures of the Kantamanto market in Accra. Of an ocean awash with textiles. A shivering example of a city drowning in the faults of the fashion and textile industries. Where overproduction and overconsumption have become the name of the game. And the Global South a dumping ground for the sins of the North.

The textile industry is a historical quagmire. Characterised by lack of transparency and lack of traceability. By exploitative working conditions. By gross overproduction that has led to bulging landfills and throwaway mindsets. But I’d like to think that these hidden costs are gradually coming to light. That more people are cotton-ing on.

2023 Africa Textile Talks

Fetching the future

One of the contributing speakers at the Africa Textile Talks was design journalist and creative director, Bielle Bellingham. She spoke about the role of design in shaping the future. And the need to design not just new products but new behaviours. Of using our resources as makers and innovators to ‘fetch the future’. One that is beneficial for all.

After the Textile Talk’s wrapped up in Cape Town, I drove back home. To the haven of Plettenberg Bay, where the Mungo Mill and its hub of production is based. And with the conversations around the textile industry, around fears for the future, still fresh in my mind, I looked around with a new sentiment. Something that felt a little a little more… effervescent. Buoyant. Optimistic.

It’s not hard to find. When you work in a place that is naturally and abundantly beautiful. Green. Nestled between oceans. If I look out of the office where I write this, I see leaves and skyline. If I stand at the window I can hear the sea. See the waving arms of a large and stately Coral Tree. And if I take the short flight of steps into the mill adjacent, there it is. I still get a catch in my throat when I hear the sound of the looms, five years on. It comes with the knowingness that there are visions of the world where equity and good feeling are interwoven into each thread. Spaces of optimism. Spaces of joy.

Final thoughts?

Joy, like birthday cake, is better when shared.

So I asked on our WhatsApp group – to 76 weavers, dreamers, designers, cutters and cake lovers: What brought you joy today?

Here are just a few of the replies.

For me it’s walking from the shop to the mill, saying hi to all the smiley faces as I go past to nag Ginny in production about an order. The different types of greetings, the fabric coming to life as it gets woven, Norton asking for nibbles (we all mother him), checking in on the ladies in despatch, stopping to watch the guys in the warping doing their work with such pride and care, out the back door through the nursery back to the shop, the fabrics, my lovely coworkers and the wide eyes visitors. It’s great! I love it. Oh, and the Wisteria full of bumble bees buzzing next to the shop.- Jonica

Mine was walking through the mill today. I am still mesmerised by the sound of the looms and the creation of a beautiful product. Plus another bonus is working with an awesome team of people. Grateful! – Caroline

Mine is just the lovely space we all get to work in. Not just the mill but also Old Nick Village and its lovely peaceful gardens. And also the generator. – Craig

I’m on the road in Durban and for me it’s meeting our clients and customers who say, ‘We loooove Mungo, you are so lucky to work for such an amazing South African brand, the new towels are incredible, the colours are amazing, I won’t use anything else, my clients insist I use Mungo in their home…’ Just praise and more praise. It’s humbling to say the least. – Merle

I love walking along the walkway overlooking the looms, hearing the intense clatter, feeling the difference in the air/humidity, watching everyone intently working, seeing the threads weave together – it is mesmerising! – Tijen

For me it’s looking at the warp and weft threads binding together and forming the most beautiful designs. Each one with a unique story behind it. – Nicky

I’m grateful for the opportunity to be able to help shape a company that has as its foundation principles and philosophies that go beyond the need to make money. It makes life infinitely more interesting to be involved in a pursuit that has some meaning. And I really enjoy offering a platform for the improvement of people’s lives in a space as beautiful as ours. – Dax

The product, the people, the place and the poetry it all makes. – Tessa

Also in search of joy?
We can’t promise cake, but we can promise more feel-good stories.

Read next: In Conversation | Mungo Mill, Architect, Andrea Cristoforetti

Talking Certifications.

The Global Organic Textile Standard (GOTS) is the world-leading standard for the production of organic textiles. It sets the bar high, with rigorous social and environmental criteria for each step of the supply chain – right from seed and soil, to the spun fibres and finished product. In 2020 we became South Africa’s first GOTS-certified company. An exacting and undoubtedly expensive process that involves annual auditing of each of our departments – but one which we stood behind in our pursuit of sustainable textile manufacturing.

On August 18th we were pleased to be part of the discussion around certification – as we hosted an open dialogue on our GOTS certification from our our Cape Town store on 78 Hout Street. The talk was held in connection with the 2023 Africa Textile Talks, and featured a conversation between Africa’s GOTS representative, Muktar Dodo and our designer, Lenore Schroeder – mediated by Twyg founder, Jackie May.

Timely and interesting conversations grew from the initial dialogue, as makers in the local textile and fashion industries discussed the role of organic fibres, as well as challenges to certification in their various sectors, and need for support and transparency.

Navigating the sea of ‘sustainable’ buzzwords can seem overwhelming in a world where real solutions are easily lost in a mix of clever marketing speak and greenwashing. That’s where certifications stand strong as beacons of credibility. In order to safeguard the health of our families and communities for the future, organic agriculture is essential, and although certification might involve very real and immediate cost to company, the longterm value is priceless.

Whilst we’re currently flying the GOTS flag on our own, we hope to positively impact the industry and the future of responsible design. Proving that there is a demand for organic textiles, and supporting a growing industry of innovators and change makers.

2023 Africa Textile Talks

The discussion was part of the full programme of the 2023 Africa Textile Talks, hosted by Twyg and Imiloa Collective. Organised between South Africa and Mauritius, the annual event offers a full day of inspiring talks and panel discussions focussed on, and celebrating, sustainability, environmentalism and circular solutions in the fashion, craft and textile industries. The talks offer a platform to spotlight textile innovation, whilst creating a space to address issues like the need for credible supply chains, industry support systems and intra-continental collaboration, the importance of circularity and transparency within the industry, and the role of certifications. The day provided a refreshing opportunity to network and to explore responsive solutions, as we look to reimagine Africa’s fashion and textile landscape amidst globally relevant issues.

2023’s line-up began with a presentation by Kenyan textile artist and creative director Sunny Dolat, who took the audience on a narrative journey of textiles from around the continent with this keynote talk entitled ‘African Textiles – Vessels of Memory, Identities and Heritage.’ Referencing iconic African cloths such as the east African Kanga, Malian Bogolan, the Kuba Cloth of the DRC, and the Ghanian Kente Cloth, he evoked the long and rich history of the textile making on the continent, recalling the power of cloth to communicate, commemorate and preserve intangible heritage. Amidst Sunny’s impressive body of work, his recent project for Documenta Fifteen, entitled Return to Sender, drew attention to the dumping of textile waste in Africa by the Global North. In a thought-provoking spotlight of the west’s the gross overconsumption and rampant appetite for textiles, Sunny redirected 144 bales of clothing waste from African countries back to Europe.

Sunny Dolat

Following was a panel discussion, moderated by Esethu Cenga of Rewoven Africa, between Krelyne Andrew from Sappi, Noreen Mwancha from Rethread Africa, Deon Saayman of Cape Wools SA and Carolina Li of DDI Mauritius. Noreen’s work as the co-founder of Rethread, a Kenyan biomaterial startup using agricultural waste for textile production, drew particular interest – with the company’s recent development of a fabric produced from pineapple fibre, a responsive textile innovation that sits alongside the need to improve and support local livelihoods, whilst improving land productivity and maintaining biodiversity. Krelyne’s talk highlighted Sappi’s release of an innovative new product – a renewable dissolving pulp product that can be used in a multiple sectors, including the textile industry.

Krelyne Andrew, Noreen Mwancha and Deon Saayman

Designer and founder of hand-woven mohair textile brand, Frances V.H Mohair, Frances van Hasselt, shared her design process and love for South Africa’s most prized natural fibre in an evocative talk entitled ‘Farm to Fibre: A Story from a Karoo Mohair Studio.’ Frances took us on a vivid and visceral journey through the rich and robust landscape of the semi-arid Karoo – where her studio is based and where she finds unending inspiration.

Lukhanyo Mdingi then presented a beautiful short film about the provenance of their cotton fabrics in Burkina Faso, followed by a panel discussion, moderated by Bielle Bellingham, on how design influences the future textile economy. On the panel were maker and textile artist, Tinyiko Makwakwa, Natalie Green of knitwear brand, INKE, and Merchants on Long fashion buyer, Sumendra Chetty. Conversations arose around the role of design – and the need to harness its power to rethink, reimagine and improve the world we live in. To design deliberately, to change the way we shop, and the importance of designing not only new products, but new behaviours.

Muktar Dodo

Yvette Tetteh of the Or Foundation was in person, joined by her colleagues Sammy Oteng and Kennie MacCarthy, who streamed in from Accra, Ghana. Their powerful presentation discussed the impact of waste colonialism, bringing into stark reality the effects of fast fashion, mass production and hyper consumption, and the toll it is taking on Ghana and the Global South. The talk spotlighted Accra’s Kantamanto market, one of the world’s largest secondhand clothing markets, where approximately 15 million garments arrive weekly – of which only a small percentage are suitable for resale, with about 40% ending up as waste.

In an inspiring feat, Yvette recently swam 450km of the Ghana’s Volta River, from Buipe to Ada, in a drive to raise awareness around the impact of textile pollution on the quality of water. Serving as part of her broader initiative known as the Agbetsi Living Water Swim, Yvette collected water and air samples, to research the presence of microfibres in the river, and call to light the effects of decades of exploitative global trade.

Tinyiko Makwakwa, Natalie Green, Bielle Bellingham and Sumendra Chetty

The day rounded off with a presentation from Tina Smith of the District Six Museum, whose talk brought to life the power of cloth as a tool to both document and heal. Head of Exhibitions at the museum, Tina’s discussion entitled ‘Memory and Cloth’ showcased the use of textiles as part of the museum’s methodology and aesthetic framework, becoming vessels to mediate the past and navigate identity. Tina was accompanied by Patience Watlington, Jean Pretorius and Sylvia Ganget, who presented their personal stories of being involved with the museum’s ‘Huis Kombuis Memory Project’ – a project that mobilises creativity to access memory and lend a reflexive lens to issues of loss, through the revival of home-based crafts like embroidery, sewing and appliqué work.

A big thank you to Twyg and the Africa Textile Talks for creating a platform to engage in forward-thinking dialogue, and to collaborate and connect. It felt both timely and refreshing to have had an open space to discuss, network and reimagine the future. We look forward to 2024’s talks!

All images kindly provided by Rizqah Dollie @thedolliehouse

Read next: Behind the Seams | The Hidden Cost of Fast Fashion

Integrity is doing the right thing. Even when no one is watching – C.S. Lewis

We like to think we’re good people. Doing good things. If not… that might be concerning. Regardless, most of us want to be. Try to be. We have good intentions, even if that gets muddied by personal weaknesses or subjectivities.

I came across this quote by C.S. Lewis and it gave me pause to think. This idea of doing things in view. Or the inverse, behind closed doors. I thought about the Mungo Mill. Perhaps the greatest enactment of Mungo’s ethos. An anomaly in a world where to see behind the scenes is a rarity. And by ‘BTS’, I mean that in a genuine sense of the word. Not some stylised, marketing-curated foray, where a tight-shirted TV host beckons you in with a bended arm for a ‘sneak peak’. I mean an all-day, drop-the-fourth-wall kind of insider view. To see real processes and real people. Machines, faces, fibres, hands. All the bits that brought your product to life. To look into a company’s cavity. Its hub. To question what you see there.

Out of sight, out of mind?

In most parts of the world, production is done behind closed doors. In sealed-off factories where we have a convenient out-of-sight, out-of-mind distance to how the goods we use are made. There’s a reason McDonalds doesn’t operate off an open-kitchen system. Why your iPhone is produced in a city you likely can’t pronounce. Or why most of our textile production is done in places where the western world can keep its armchair activism at arm’s length. They don’t want to show it. And frankly, we don’t want to see it. But there is a truth – a story – that’s happening here. And it harks back to the fact that despite the convenience at which we can pick up a product from a shelf, or click it into a cart and have it arrive within an extraordinarily fast amount of time, it does not just emerge into this world fully formed and wrapped in plastic. Money does not grow on trees, they say. And neither does your pair of Nikes.

Ask questions first. Shop later.

The truth is that we tend to forget about sustainable supply chains, the importance of longevity and the real people behind the product, because we’re hardwired to choose quick and cheap. To complain about the cost of a shirt or the price of a pair of shoes, without really questioning why. Without doing a little homework. Or perhaps it’s just that we never really thought about it in the first place. Because the illusion – the invisibility cloak draped over the factories and fast fashion houses of the world – has done its job too well. Such to the extent that we are blinded to our own moral failings.

So let’s ask ourselves this question: where does this come from? How was it made? And under what conditions? Does a ‘Made in Taiwan’ sticker on the back of my plastic alarm clock really provide enough traceability? And who really made those knock-off Adidas sneakers I bought in Vietnam in 2017? And for all my Google searches, and good intentions, why can’t I answer these questions effectively? Because it is by design. It’s the consumer cog at play. Capitalism functioning at its best. Or its worst, depending on who’s asking the question.

Fast fashion is a sign of the times

The shift from slow to fast fashion is all part and parcel of the times. Cognitively overloaded. Addicted to newness. Bingeing on conspicuous consumption because we’ve been told the next something-something will satisfy our needs. Consumerism making us slaves to the checkout – where it seems easier to buy new things at an evermore hysterical rate, rather than enjoying (or repairing) what’s already in our closest. Most keenly evidenced by the clothing industry, where annual, or even seasonal fashion cycles are now replaced by a 52-week cycle. All of this is compounded by urgency – the need to have it now.

So where did it all go wrong?

200 years ago the production of fibre into cloth was a significantly more time-consuming affair. One that would have required you to raise your own sheep, spin your own yarn and weave your own cloth. Quality was prioritised over quantity and garments were worn for years on end – resized, repaired and remade before binning was ever a consideration. But something changed around the mid 18th century. The Industrial Revolution took its roots. And in its wake came a wave of machines and technology that sped up production. That replaced work done by hand. The result? It was now cheaper to buy than to make.

In the last few decades things accelerated. Globalisation, improvements in communications, social media… Self-esteem straddling a wobbly seesaw with self-expression. Shopping as a hobby. (The term ‘retail therapy’ says it all.) Overproduction and overconsumption now the name of the game.

At whose cost?

The reality for most of us, myself guiltily included, is to succumb to consumer culture. To choose instant gratification. The quick-fix, click-to-cart dopamine rush that comes with online shopping, and with the fast fashion brands that dominate our feeds. We’re quick to choose our own comfort – but at whose cost? The reality sadly isn’t all tied up in ribbons. It’s often ugly. Don’t let Shein’s influencer campaign tell you otherwise. Suspicious supply chains, exploitative working conditions, textiles dumped on the Global South. Low quality offered at low prices, energy-heavy production cycles, toxic dyes, soil and water pollution. Bulging online hauls, clothes to be worn once (if ever), sale signs as hypnotic headlamps beckoning us into material frenzy… But conspicuous consumption cannot be dressed up in bows. Neither can suspiciously low-cost goods. If it’s that cheap, ring the alarm. You might be winning, but someone else is losing out.

Fast. Quick. Cheap.

The Iron Triangle tolls keenly in the world of textiles. Fast, cheap, quick – you can only have two. But there’s another to add to the mix: conscience. Production shouldn’t negate fairness. Equity. Livelihood. Perhaps in the future all our production needs will be outsourced to AI. Which in itself may have dire consequences for the state of our workforce, and the need to learn a livable wage. But for now, whilst there are still humans who till our soils, grow our food, and weave our cloth, let’s not forget about ethics. The cost to people. The cost to our planet.

In writing this I run the risk of sounding perilously self-righteous. But I too have fast fashion demons in my closet. A never-to-be-worn oversized denim jacket at the end of the rack that I’ve kept year-on-year as some sort of penance for my textile sins. Three pairs of unworn sunglasses bought in Spain, where I found myself love drunk on the streets of Barcelona (or perhaps just on the Cava), and mesmerised by the big bad lights of Zara, Mango and H&M. I’m not immune to material misbehaviour. But I do find myself a little more considered, a little more quizzical, these days. Looking for some sort of traceability beyond just clever marketing speak.

It’s an exhausting paradox. Production fuels the economy. And so does the spend of our hard-won cash. And yet to participate in that cycle in excess leaves us in a state of fracture. Tenuously holding on to our values. To our last good soil. To our hope for the future.

Something’s rotten

As I try to make sense of it all – where I stand on the moral metre – I’m reminded of a childhood memory. Going back over two decades to a powder blue uniform with shiny round buttons and brown leather shoes. Sitting on a wooden seat, my feet too short to touch the ground, poring over the beginnings of an experiment. A single bean. Some damp cotton. A plastic plate. The task was to get the bean to sprout. So we’d nestled our beans into the cotton wool, written our names with a dry black marker on a piece of masking tape, and left them in a sunlit spot of our grade four classroom to germinate. After a day, there was a tiny crack in the bean. Then came the curly yellow-green shoot. After several more days there were green leaves – unfurling one by one. I was awed by this. How a single seed carried inside itself all the ingredients for new life. How with only a little light, water and sun, life could be coaxed into being. It is perhaps the closest feeling a child could have to touching magic.

So strong was the sense of wonder that I conducted an experiment of my own in our garage. I can see the image of my own shadow, framed in the bay window, setting the ivory white seed into its cotton blanket atop an old unplugged Deep Freezer. Adding a few drops of water. And then a couple more. Watching it as if it might sprout forth then and there. And then walking away. The truth was this time I’d misjudged the recipe. Over eager, I had grossly over-watered. And when I’d returned to peel back the cotton a day or two later, therein lay a rotten bean.

So what now?

Is that how I feel now? Knowing how putrid the cycle of creation can be when approached with a rash and reckless hand? Perhaps. But to take a less cynical approach, there is the understanding that creation takes care. Requires a fine balance. An even temperament in your toolbox and not a jackhammer. But without the poetic nuance, or the pragmatist’s search for analogy, there is a singular revelation. One that ripens the memory of that day, such that I can recall it like a taste in my mouth, or a familiar scent. That this was about process. About the alchemy of creation. Connecting the art of making – the gentle coaxing of resources, the sharpened skill – to a finished product. And to realise, looking at the store bought bag of beans cut open on the kitchen counter, what effort it must take to grow them all.

A matter of choice

Bean or cotton boll or basketball cap. Fast food or fast fashion. A pair of earrings or a piece of woven cloth. It all takes time, process and resources.

I can attest that it does feel difficult, at every turn, to do the right thing. Whether people are watching, or not. But there are choices. There are open conversations to be had. Ethical producers and certifications that provide credibility. They are more minimalist modes of being: to buy less and buy better. To choose longevity over quick-cheap-inferior. To slow down a little. To remind yourself that one more item of clothing might not change your life. But it might change someone else’s.

Righteous, or right – who knows? But perhaps it takes a little querying of what goes on behind the seams.

The Mungo Mill is South Africa’s first, and only, GOTS-certified weaving mill. The Global Organic Textile Standard is the world-leading standard for the processing of organic fibres, assuring environmentally and socially responsible practices across the entire supply chain. GOTS has rigorous implications for manufacturing – right from soil, to seed, to finished product – and every hand that touched it along the way.

Join us as we visit the farming cooperative, Terre De Lin, in Normandy to learn about their farming practices and the meticulous care that goes into cultivating the flax we use in our linen products. We witness the transformation of the flax fibre as it is prepared to be sent to Linificio e Canapificio Nazionale for spinning.

The unique climate conditions found in the Flanders region of Europe, as well as the mineral-rich soil, contribute to the growth of flax plants that produce fibres that are particularly long and strong. Generations of farming expertise in the region have contributed to the exceptional quality, resulting in linen yarn that is widely regarded as the best in the world.

At Mungo we buy all of our raw materials direct from the source. We manufacture everything ourselves under one roof at our Mill in Plettenberg Bay, South Africa. We control the whole journey. Knowing where our yarn comes from, who grows it, and processes, has always been a part of our transparency objective. Visiting, documenting and sharing it with you is part of that too.

This video was edited by Julian Culverhouse.

Delicate sky-blue flowers stretch across the landscape, reaching the horizon. Their long green stems sway in the sea breeze. It’s early June in the north of France, and we’ve made our way here especially to witness linens’ annual spectacle…

Interested in learning more about the story of our linen? Read the full story on our blog: The Lineage of Our Linen

There is no consumption without impact.
Let’s just put that out there.

There is no article of clothing, piece of food that you eat, good-hearted gift that you buy, that doesn’t cost something, somewhere.
That doesn’t cost the planet.

Consumption fuels the economy.
The way the world works, we are locked in a cycle of creating and consuming.
This is the capitalist machine at play. The 21st century monster. And we’re all on the hamster wheel.
Creating, consuming. Yes, it feeds the beast. And yes, it puts money into the pocket of the powerful few.
But it also creates jobs, and this means putting food on the table for the many.

Unless you join an exodus of people throwing their cellphones into the ocean, cutting up their credit cards and heading out into the wilderness to live off the land, Into the Wild style.
This could be a viable option.
But for many it is not.

It’s not viable even for those of us who are well-intentioned, read the labels on our clothing or bag of tomatoes – cruelty-free, GMO-free, organic, BIPOC-owned, Fairtrade – and wince when you’ve forgotten your shopping bags – yet again.

The point is, I’ve come to believe that there’s no such thing as sustainability.
There it is, I said it.

The very definition of the word belies any sense of possibility.
“The ability to be maintained at a certain rate or level.”
This is impossible. Because everything changes. Everything revolves.
Even a mountain, as stoic and stable as it may seem, wears away over time – only the change is so gradual to the human eye that it cannot be noticed.

But there are better ways of doing things.
Not ‘no impact’. But ‘less impact’.
And I think it’s important that people understand this.

Important that people hold companies – but also themselves – accountable.

But it’s also worth shining a light into the grey area – the zone of complexity.
You plant a tree out in the woods. Great. But perhaps it took you a lot of fuel, and some plastic sheeting, and a coffee cup in a throwaway receptacle, along the way to get it to that place of planting.

You buy a linen shirt – it has a OEKO-TEX label on. And maybe you already know that flax is fairly good for the planet – in comparison to resource-thirsty cotton.
But it still takes raw materials, finite ones, to produce that finished product.
There’s still creation, and consumption, at play. The hamster wheel still spins.

This isn’t a name and shame game.
And it isn’t about pessimism.

In fact, it’s about being so deeply optimistic about the planet, and it’s future, that you’re inspired to do better.

It’s about crucial conversations, acknowledging the grey area, and open-ended dialogue.

And it begins here.

We’re a GOTS-certified homeware textile company, based in Plettenberg Bay.
We are particular about sourcing the highest quality fibres, and creating a product designed to last, not designed for landfill. 

We believe in open and transparent production – which is why our weaving mill is open daily to the public.

Read more about what we, and why we do it, here.

In 2022, over the course of 6 Swim Clubs, with 471 swimmers taking part, we raised R49,200 for I Am Water. We spoke to I Am Water’s founder, free diver and ocean conservationist, Hanli Prinsloo about moments of majesty beneath the waves, and staying hopeful in hard times.

“To wake up in the morning and feel optimistic – to get up and smile and stretch and look out at the sea and go, ‘I can do this. I can do this for you’ – that is way more powerful than looking out and going, ‘Oh my God, it’s so heavy. It’s all too late.’ I really believe that.”

There’s something profoundly refreshing about optimism.

Especially in this country. Especially in these times. So this is what perhaps, amidst all the stories of daring and adventure, that stands out the most: that Hanli Prinsloo, world-champion free diver and founder of I Am Water, considers herself a ‘deeply optimistic’ person.

Hanli’s outlook isn’t driven by naive idealism – but by the possibility of change. And perhaps, at its baseline, by love. A love for the ocean, as deep and unending as its depths, that you see cause to fight for it.

And it feels like a sounding call to despondency. To a dead-in-the-water apathetic approach to apocalypse.

“I really feel that hopelessness spells the death of everything we care for. Because if we don’t believe that there’s hope anymore, then why would we act differently? Why would we change our behaviour if it’s already too late anyway?”

Yvon Chouinard, founder of Patagonia, who recently made waves for revolutionising his company – making ‘Earth the only shareholder’ – expressed the sentiment that “the cure for depression is action”. And there’s a parallel here. Or a paradox. That these two polar forces – optimism, and depression – compel us to change. And yet both are true. The darkest depths drive us to radically change our lives. And the greatest joys, that sense of optimistic awe, equally compel us to move, to shake. And to protect.

“If you really take time to be in nature, you’re compelled to remain optimistic. Whether it’s standing in the rain or hearing the waves crashing or diving down underwater and seeing that biodiversity and life. Nature just keeps transforming and giving and thriving.”

Hanli’s own affinity with water started early – growing up on a horse farm, where she quickly learnt of the incredible importance of water from the two rivers that ran through the land, and a dam that on occasion dried up if there wasn’t enough rain. A dam where she and her sister spent afternoons playing, diving deep and pretending to be mermaids.

“That connection really came from an early age… loving that silence and that feeling of weightlessness and stillness and that holding [of] the breath even when it burns. I’ve enjoyed that from very early on.”

And from these simple adventures – ones of childlike wonder – there have grown moments of incredible majesty; vast adventuring and tales of which most can only imagine.

“I’ll never forget the first time I was surrounded by a pod of dolphins – being observed and scanned and clicked and welcomed in. And just feeling, ‘wow’ – there’s so much beauty out there and there’s so much trust… We have so much good that we should do, and could do, and there are so many pure life forms out there that we affect… [and from that] I really just had this sense of, ‘I would do anything – anything – for this to be protected.”

To experience life between the waves – to experience the ocean at all – is both a pleasure and a privilege. Because for many, the ocean isn’t an accessible space. It was this that compelled Hanli to found I Am Water in 2010.

“All through my competitive freediving career I felt so privileged to be learning so much about my body and so much about the ocean through what being underwater offers us. And it always made me sad coming home to South Africa and seeing how much South Africans have access to the ocean and how it’s very much divided by communities and demographics. And so much of it is a throwback to beaches not being accessible to all and swimming pools not being accessible to all. So starting I Am Water was really about creating opportunities for young South Africans to have access to the ocean. It’s so important for us to realise that what we think is normal – to be able to swim, to be able to safely run into the water on the beach – is not normal for so many South Africans, and I Am Water is a vessel for changing that.”

Experience. Optimism. Depression. Love.

Drivers for change. Movers to action. Such that influenced Hanli to make another profound change in her life. A first – and last – spearfishing expedition, that became the last time she ever ate a fish.

In South Africa, to be a good spearfisherman, you need to be a good freediver. But, as I realised floating above the kelp, my speargun dangling limply from my wrist – being a good freediver, is not enough to be a good spearfisherman… I am not a natural hunter. I am an observer. To switch from observing to stalking didn’t seem to happen naturally for me. It took me several long dives, self-sabotaged misses, self-talk and a bruised sternum from reloading the speargun before I actually shot my first fish. My only fish…

Excerpt taken from ‘Killing Fish.’ First published in DIVESITE Issue 3, 2011

“I do think that the old saying, ‘when we know better we do better’, is true. But I also think that we act when we experience things on a deep level. And for me that happened with that fish.”

Experiences like these can be transformative – in the way they help us to connect. To rewild. To remind us of what we need to fight for. Of what’s at stake. But they’re also a way to bridge the gap between concepts that might seem abstract, larger-than-life. Overfishing. Imminent sea life extinction. Ocean pollution. Climate crisis. Issues that are large and looming. But where is the inroad? How do you start? Perhaps putting your head beneath the waves. Seeing creatures great. Or small. Seeing a piece of plastic float by. Querying this.

“Being in Indonesia, and diving in what should be a pristine ocean with manta rays, and seeing this manta ray open its mouth and plastic going in and I was literally swimming next to it trying to push this plastic out of its way as it was filter feeding. That to me was just so shocking… The rest of that dive I didn’t even swim with the manta rays anymore – I was just swimming around with this huge bag, just pulling all this plastic out of the water. It was just so horrific to see and that suddenly for me brought it home – that ‘aha’, plastic in the ocean is a real issue affecting the animals I love. So needless to say I avoid plastic where I can… and then just in general – thinking [about] our lifestyle choices… what car you drive, what products you buy, the durability of the products you buy, what you eat – all those things matter.”

And it does matter. The little choices that we make. The small actions that amount to bigger ones. The times where we look for agency – and use it.

And above all, perhaps, remaining optimistic. Remaining in awe.

Recognising your power. Recognising your privilege. The teetering right, the radical responsibility, that comes with being on a planet with finite resources. One that offers us such bountiful gifts. And which asks so very little of us in return.

Photographs taken by I Am Water co-founder, Peter Marshall

I Am Water is an NPO that uses environmental education as a tool to inspire the next generation of conservationists. They work with under-resourced coastal communities who, despite their proximity to the shoreline, have often never explored the world beneath the waves. Their mission rests on the belief that “those who have opened their eyes underwater, those who have seen the beauty, the majesty, and the great marine creatures of this world, will learn to love and to protect it.”

Click here to find out how you can support the good work that they do.

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Any intrepid seafarer needs the towel of the trade. And by that, we mean a Mungo Towel.
But this is no everyday flat-weave. This towel is for the next generation of sea swimmers, oceanographers, and avid explorers. It’s a towel for the rockpool-finders, for the sandcastle builders and first-time snorkellers.

Bright Futures

It’s important to us to think about the future. To look for ways to safeguard this one planet we call home.

In 2019 we began shifting our yarn to organic sources – and the Scout Towel is the newest to join the ranks.

Our Scout Towels are woven with 100% Global Organic Textile Standard (GOTS) certified organic cotton.
A fibre that’s better for the planet – and for you.

Organic cotton is cultivated in pesticide and chemical-free fields and uses up to 90% less water than its conventional counterpart. By eliminating the use of harsh chemicals, organic cotton not only helps to protect the farmers who cultivate it, but also the soil and water supplies. Organic fibres are also handpicked, preserving their quality, and ensuring an ultra soft handle.

Why GOTS?

We choose GOTS certification because it’s the gold standard for organic threads. What does all of this mean? That the health of the seeds, soil and the farmer is protected, as well as each hand along the way that helps to weave your Mungo product to life.

We are currently South Africa’s first, and only, GOTS-certified weaving mill.

Dream Weaver

If you look closely, the Scout Towel will reveal more secrets. Because this isn’t just your regular plain weave towel. This is a towel with texture and tone. Featuring a unique ‘recess’ weave – a design that’s both functional and good looking. By adding more thread into the weft (that’s the left-to-right threads), we’ve created a towel that’s not only absorbent and good looking, but soft and supple to the touch. Perfect for young skin. And wriggling, runaway bodies.

Kaleidoscopic

Cerulean, emerald, pink and plum – these are all the colours of a tidal pool. We’re talking orange starfish, prickly purple urchins, bottle-green kelp and blue seas. And a sticky ice lolly on the beach to boot.

Not the season for swimming? This is a towel for indoors or out. For beach days, or bathtime bliss. Either way, it’s sure to add some Mungo magic to the younger memories of the pack.

And if you – like us – think this towel is good enough for the young and old alike, go for it. We won’t judge you.

Hot tar. Fingers in ears. Tongue stuck out in defiance.

Naa-na-na-naaa-na

The sound of skipping ropes hitting the pavement. And the smell of chalk lines drawn for hopscotch.

Sticks and stones might break my bones but words will never hurt me.

And then the adult version.

Ignorance is bliss.

Well, maybe not quite the same thing. But my mind draws a parallel between the two – between this image of blocking something out and pretending it doesn’t exist.
All so that it doesn’t hurt you.

It’s true that there are a lot of things out there that could hurt you.
One of my favourites is to fantasise about tripping down the stairs and knocking my front teeth out. Not entirely unfounded because technically I’ve done this before.
And hikes are semi-ruined because the threat of a snake around any corner now looms large.
Nevermind Gates’ call to prepare for the next big you-know-what.  Give us a break, would you?

The point is, we seem to be constantly reminded of all that could go imminently wrong. And for anyone brave enough to pick up a newspaper, or flip on the news, you’ll be all to familiar with the myriad opportunities to panic.
On the brink of war.
At the risk of disease.
Economies collapsing.
Temperatures soaring.
Oceans rising.
Bees dying.
Doom.
Gloom.

And don’t – I mean it now – don’t Google your symptoms.

All the uncountable causes that need our attention.
And it seems like there’s never enough – never enough money or support or goodwill or energy to fix it all.

Compassion fatigue, they called it in Journ school. An uncomfortable term – guilt-ridden, First World problems, awkwardly analysed from a pedestal of privilege. We all have it as South Africans, they said.
Don’t-see-it-don’t-hear-it-it’s-all-too-much. Everything-is-just-tooooooo-hard. Cue exasperated sigh.

Or is it?

I read a book recently that begged to differ.

It said we’re living in the Golden Age of it all.

A scientist, somewhere in a lab coat doing science-y things, said that if we lived in the times of the Romans, and wanted the lifestyle we enjoyed today, we’d need about 6000 slaves.

6000 toiling, sun-beaten humans to cultivate and cook our food, make our music, raise our animals (a dozen horses for our travel alone). All to bring us the chicken breast wrapped in polystyrene and plastic that we pluck from a perfectly tempered fridge for our dinner. Or deliver us music at the touch of a button. Or to do our bidding via voice command. Please me! Feed me! Delight me! And all of it, now.

Just think about your bed linen. I’m talking linen linen. Nevermind cotton linens.

And then watch this pleasantly pastoral video of one man going through all the stages of sowing and pulling and retting and stooking and crimping (and a dozen other steps but I’ll be honest I skimmed it and so did you) just to produce this fine fibre.

Then go to bed on your linen linens. Or cotton linens. And have a better appreciation of it. A better night’s sleep. Or a worse one, if you’re a chronic overthinker like me.

So back to the main point.

Which was somewhere between 21st century panic and compassion fatigue.

Which brings me to another word.

Sustainability.

What does it really even mean? What does it mean to me? What does it mean to you?

Is it just a buzzword?
Marketing speak.
A little green pill to help us sleep better at night.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I forget to do my recycling.

We get up in arms about the plastic around our fruit.
(I think about stepping into a Starbucks in Seoul. A sad drama played out by a single banana sold at the counter. Wrapped in plastic as if it didn’t have it’s own very perfect, very concealing, very life-lengthening skin).

But then I heard someone on TV saying how plastic actually makes our food last longer.
And I think about the baby marrows in my fridge that have been there for 3 weeks and honestly I’m happy that they still look good, in their little plastic nest, and that I didn’t have to throw them out. Because that !that! really would be a waste of Mother Nature’s blessings.

But the point is – how long is a piece of [sustainable] string?
How much of our well-intentioned, planet-saving endeavours are really just that – endeavours.
But we’re all trying our best, aren’t we?

So yes, one more thing to consider may just be too much.
(And the category is… buggered!)
Maybe we want to be blinkered a bit.
Maybe we want to eat a cheeseburger without worrying about carcinogens or calories or the 660 gallons of water that made it happen.
I do.

But let me not beat around the burning bush.
I’m talking about the c-word.
No, not that one.
Cotton.

It uses a lot of water.
Takes up a lot of arable land.
Pollutes rivers.
Destroys soil nutrients.
And it’s pretty bad for for the health of farmers.

And to be fair, us humans use a lot of it.
Like, a lot. 

So what do we do?

There’s no one-size, neat-fit, easy answer. There never is.

But –

Organic cotton.

It uses up to 90% less water.
Requires far less energy.
Doesn’t need pesticides.
Protects water supplies.
Protects the farmers.
Protects the soil.
All that good stuff.

So there’s the bit.
There’s the plug.
That’s it.

This has been an irreverent blog.
For an irreverent generation.
But I’m not too superior to admit I’m part of the problem.

Use it. Don’t use it.
Shop. Don’t shop.

It’s your choice.

But don’t stick your fingers in your ears.

Mungo Organic Cotton Range

Oh, and by the way…

Mungo’s the first Global Organic Textile Standard certified weaving mill in the country.

Sometimes when we aim for the stars we end up on the moon. Which is kind of what happened when we started this Mungo Mill project. It has been a lifelong dream of Stuart’s to have a mill that is open to the public, that houses the full production process and team under one roof.

When Andrea and I designed the building 6 years ago we planned to be able to build it in one go. Best laid plans and all, we couldn’t secure finance for the whole project. This was because according to the bean counters and money lenders, the textile industry is not a good sector to be lending money to.

I tried pitching to some private equity investors.
Was told to move the company to Cape Town or they weren’t interested.
I was affronted.
We’re people. You don’t just move a factory and families who have lived and worked in Plettenberg Bay for years. We’re a community here.

I suspect they had heard that textile production is a bad bet.
They had also heard my pitch. It wasn’t good.

So we waited, and business was brisk and we got to a point where I sat with my family and said ‘Look, we need more production capacity, we either find a way to do so or we’re going to be turning customers away.’

So we borrowed what we could, dug into some savings, signed away our lives and put up what has become known as ‘Phase 1’. Very fancy wording for what was essentially a compromise.
But we knew it was a ‘good bet’.

That was 2017 and we managed quite well with a disjointed operation, a Frankenstein of sorts, but we didn’t let go of the idea to one day finish Phase 2.

We had children, some of us emigrated, expanded into territories unknown and far away. Came back. Life happened. And Covid.

We came home.

I sat with that family and said ‘What are we going to do? We can sink, we can swim, I know what I want to do, I want to push through, build Phase 2. How about you?’

So in March we started to build.
Last week we moved in.
It’s been a process that has been made challenging because of shortages of basic building material, logistics, delays on imports, lockdowns, Covid outbreaks, riots, strikes, and then just the normal mix-ups and bad communication that happens in life.

And so here we are.
Phase 2 complete.

It takes time to fulfil dreams, and in this case it’s taken a whole team, collaborating, working, and dreaming their own dreams to fulfil that one man’s dream.

This one’s for you dad.

Dax Holding, Managing Director

Enjoy this story? Read more about the building of phase 1 on our blog, here.

Genna Shrosbree has always held an experimental interest in textiles and dyeing; in the rich history of natural, plant-based dyes, and the colour-making techniques that have slowly been making their revival. This interest has evolved into Beagle + Basset, a natural dye studio in Woodstock, Cape Town. Here Genna uses seasonable foliage and plant extracts to conjure up a rich palette of colours.

We first met Genna whilst she was on a work trip to Plettenberg Bay, and soon saw space to experiment. After sampling various fabrics from our mill at her dye studio, we decided to collaborate on a range of organic cotton baby blankets. Using natural dye extracts, she has created a colour series in a warm, autumnal palette.

We chatted to her about her process, and the craft of natural dyeing.

How did you get into natural dyeing?
I have always been a tactile person with a bit of an obsession with soft natural fibres that breathe. With this being said, working with textiles became an interest of mine and various different ways to colour the raw fabrics followed suit. I once met a lady who harvested and spun her own wool and then coloured it with what she had in her surroundings. This utter emersion in nature and being resourceful with using only what was sustainably around her completely inspired me to start experimenting on my own. It was very much an experimental interest that has turned into a career. It’s something I wish to grow upon, and knowledge I hope to be able to pass on to others as time goes on.

How do natural dyes compare with synthetic ones? Why are they preferable?
Natural dyes and synthetic dyes don’t even compare. It is very much about taking from and giving back to the earth in a similar state to how you found it, which is exactly the nature of natural pigment. I harvest or gather only what is in abundance, or has fallen on to the earth’s floor. This colour is extracted and once the dye process is complete, the dye bath can be given straight back to the ground without any concerns. Natural dyes have character and depth, and the lack of machinery used in this process really highlights a ‘hand-made’ element. It’s a technique, or some would even call an ‘art form’, that has been practiced for centuries. Even with developments in technology, many natural dyers find the best way to do it is by hand, in pots, over a flame. Like anything organic, the colour won’t naturally hold for as long as synthetics, but that is very much part of the story, and the beauty of this hands on process.

Any mishaps during your early experiments?
Even after 3 years, I am still experimenting and learning. I have learnt which plant materials yield the strongest colours, which are sensitive to light, and which last the longest in the wash. Mishaps in the beginning could be the fact that colours change when exposed to the elements. I didn’t know this at first and had to make sure to store dyed goods correctly. Every time I dyed, whether I followed the exact same recipe as before, it came out slightly differently. This may have been due to the change in season, when the bark fell off the tree, when the fynbos was harvested, how long the pecan nut shucks had been lying on the ground… There are so many elements that affect the dye. I wouldn’t necessarily see it as a mishap though, but possibly a new discovery.

What have you found to be the best natural materials for dyeing?
I think dye extracts have proven to be the best for consistency, colourfastness and wash fastness. Extracts are 100% finely ground up natural pigment that has been used for centuries to dye textiles. Local matter such as fynbos is wonderful to work with and yields a strong yellow dye – however it does tend to darken when exposed to the sun. Pecan nut shucks are also one of my favourite dye mediums to use as the colour it leaches all depends on the season and freshness of the fruit. They are also only harvested once a year which makes the dye quite special as we only have a limited amount to last us the season. Hopi Black sunflower seeds are another dye medium that I have recently started working with and love. It produces a strong thick dye and can colour fibres anything from purples to greys and sometimes even dark greens.

What’s the most unusual matter you’ve used for dyeing?
Probably Marijuana leaves. It’s not unusual but I really didn’t expect any colour to be produced. It actually dyed a subtle acid yellow and the colour has lasted relatively long. It’s not a dye I would do every day as it absolutely stinks and becomes a thick stodgy soup whilst the extraction is happening, but it was a fun experiment.

Which fabrics take the dye best?
Definitely protein based fibres such as wool and silk. Linen, cotton and hemp also dye quite nicely, however wool and silk takes the cake.

Talk me through a normal step-by-step of the dyeing process.
It is a very patient process and each time we dye it is different depending on the plant matter used and the fabric needing to be dyed. The basic method is a 3 step process. Firstly the fabric needs to be cleaned of any oils or impurities. This method is called scouring and various different natural substances can be used. The next step is called mordanting. This is a timely processes that requires heat and the use of metal based solubles or natural tannins. This step opens up the fibres to allow the pigment to attach. Many natural dyes don’t easily bind to fibres so mordanting is always required to allow the colour to hold and last. Dyeing the fabric is the fun part. If we are doing our own extraction, we steep the plant matter in a large pot of rain water for many hours, usually overnight – heating and cooling the water as we go to get as much pigment out of the plant. We then strain out all the bits and add our fabrics to the dye pot. Dyeing can take one hour or it can take 24 hours, depending on the deepness of the colour we hope to achieve. The items are then removed from the dye pot, rinsed and hung to dry before going through a final wash and softening cycle.

For any readers wanting to experiment with a bit of natural home dyeing, could you provide a bit of advice?
Take your time. Best results are achieved when time is spend nurturing each process. Another tip would be to try and try again and experiment with different methods, plant matter and fabrics until you are happy with your final results. Keeping a dye journal is also something I have enjoyed doing over the years as it is something you can look back on, add your notes and keep track of your different projects.

How did the collaboration with Mungo come about? And where did you see spaces for synergy?
Absolutely adore Mungo! It has been such an inspirational brand of mine for many years. We were officially introduced in 2020 on a visit to Plett, and since then have been chatting about the possibility of working together. The fact that Mungo adopts traditional weaving techniques and still uses ancient machinery to produce their products, that it’s all done locally, the yarns are sourced responsibly, and the quality of each and every piece that comes out of the mill is flawless. I think we share similar values throughout the production process.

What materials did you use to dye the Mungo Baby Blankets?
Madder root, Black wattle, Cutch (Acacia tree bark), Oak galls.

How pleased are you with the overall result?
Absolutely love them! The slight inconsistencies and variations in tone from blanket to blanket shows that each one was dyed individually by hand and I hope everyone appreciates the organic nature of each one of them.

Which of the colours is your personal favourite and why?
Oak gall. It is such a wonderful dye extract to work with and has such an interesting story. An oak gall, or gallnut, is formed when a wasp stings an oak tree. The tree reacts to this and develops a hard ‘blister’ around the sting to protect itself. This ‘blister’ is the gallnut, and is ground down in to a very fine powder. It is very high in tannin which produces strong dyes and beautiful neutral tones. I love the greeny/beige colour we have been able to achieve here.

Any care instructions to share with customers?
The biggest pointers would be to hand wash this blanket in warm water using only a dash of pH neutral detergent, and hang to dry in the shade. Direct sunlight will alter the colour. Please do not spot clean or spray your blanket with any strong chemical cleaners or tumble dry. Bleaches and acidic substances will alter the colour substantially.

Let’s Start with Cotton

Conventionally grown cotton is one of the least sustainable crops on earth. A water-thirsty crop, GMO cotton makes use of pesticides and insecticides in its production, which contaminate the soil, the air we breathe and the water we drink.

In contrast, the production of organic cotton requires no pesticides or synthetic fertilizers. Relying on the wisdom of traditional farming, the health of both the farmers and soil is preserved for future generations. Using up to 90% less water, and relying on more circular and regenerative systems, organic cotton presents a future for more sustainable textile production.

Alarmingly, only 1% of global cotton production is organic. But as manufacturers and consumers we recognise our responsibility to shift the demand.

Looking to the Future

Following the Aegean, we’ve added a number of organic cotton textiles to our range.

From our colourful Scout Towels sized for big and small humans, and luxurious Belgian Waffle Bath Sheets, to our cosy Baby Blankets, Hooded Baby Towels, and soft Summer Towels woven on our antique Lancashire looms.

All woven with 100% GOTS-certified organic yarn.

Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you feed him for a lifetime. – Lao Tzu.

We believe that the extreme poverty that grips our country can in part be alleviated by utilizing the bounty that natural food gardens can provide – even in small spaces.

As part of our staff workshop program last year, we put together a successful training course called ‘Feed your family from your back garden’, which was on offer to our team. Little did we know that come 2020, the world would be galvanised towards small-scale agricultural production in urban and semi-urban spaces…

In line with our commitment to active empowerment, ‘MOVE’ our social responsibility initiative headed by Janet Holding, began conceiving ways to address the very real threat to food security in our Plettenberg Bay communities.

Together Janet and our green-fingered Melody Khan, started rolling out a program that trains unemployed people with limited space and resources to feed their families from their own backyard gardens.

Our pilot project was completed in June and 7 proud gardeners have received their certificates of achievement. They eagerly participated in building a tiered tyre garden at Old Nick Village, learnt how to make fertilizer with kitchen scraps, how to source cheap healthy seed, make compost and create wall gardens. They are now adept at taking cuttings and propagating an ongoing food garden throughout the seasons, in tiny spaces!

At the end of the course each participant goes home with a starter pack of compost, tyres, containers, seeds and the shared use of garden tools.

Bountiful backyard haul

All the hard work is starting to come to fruition after the August rains. Melody harvested our first crop of spinach from the workshop garden at Old Nick, which has now been distributed to the five soup kitchens in Kurland Village.

We hope to share and encourage in our ongoing commitment to using our resources to give others the tools to improve their lives.

Mungo prioritises in equal measure good design and doing good. This means not only taking care to produce beautiful textiles of high quality, but also keeping at our core a desire to do better, and to rethink the way we do things. This led us to open our very own CSR, MOVE, through which we champion causes that support and empower the natural and human environments in which we operate. Through MOVE, we recognise our responsibility to take nothing for granted, and to place equal emphasis on the triple bottom line: people, planet and profit.

It’s 10:30 and he hasn’t arrived yet.

I peep my head into Julie’s office.

“There was a slight mishap with the arrival. So we’ve sent Don’s son to fetch him.”

A few minutes later the phone rings. “He’s here. We’re all in the production office.”

A scramble for my laptop and notebook, and a race over to the mill.

In the design and production office that overlooks the weaving floor, the heads of department – weaving, design, looms, wholesale, CMT – are gathered. In between them, a new face: Sameer,

“The audit process is to discuss Mungo’s compliance. To check – from yarn stock, to weaving, washing, CMT and packaging – whether you comply with the standards as set out by the Global Organic Textile Standard (GOTS).”

I take notes. Snap a photo. The opening meeting continues.

In 2019, we launched our first-ever organic towel: The Aegean.
Aptly named after a trip to Turkey in search of the world’s finest organic yarn.

The result was a crisp white flat weave that was, well, more than just a towel. It was a mark of our commitment to shift our yarn to organic sources. But despite being woven with GOTS-certified yarn, we couldn’t yet declare The Aegean itself to be GOTS certified.

So here we are, in an office where you can hear a pin drop, listening eagerly to the words of a representative of Control Union – a company outsourced to audit Mungo in compliance with GOTS.

Although I’m unsure as to what will unfold over the next 3 days, I do know that this is a big step for Mungo and so, camera and cellphone in hand, I am prepared to document every step of the way.

“The basic purpose of this first audit is to get an idea of current circumstances and then set targets for improvement.” There’s a few nods and maybe a sigh of relief.

I will observe the manufacturing, clearing, storing and packaging processes. For minor NCs (non-compliance) you’ll have 60 days. And 30 days for major ones.”

We move down to the floor, where Sameer inspects all measures of health and safety. Do we have fire extinguishers and are they correctly labelled? Is there an assembly point in the case of an emergency? Smoke alarms and exit signs? Do the doors open outwards?

In the stock room we look for places to designate the organic from the regular cotton.

“You’ll need to demarcate this area with green tape to avoid contamination.”

Within 24 hours this is up. As well as yellow floor tape to earmark each loom/weaving machine and the passage for exit. Check.

In the CMT (cut, make, trim) section we pass by the seamstresses. Miranda is busy cutting the new Kids of Kurland Kikoi. Stripes of pink and blue flutter out and catch the sunlight.

Sameer scrolls through his cellphone and presents a photo of metal gloves.

“She should wear these while cutting.”

In the administrative office we go through reams of paperwork.

“How many workers?”

“We have a staff of 74 here. And 15 up at our top mill in the Crags.”

We break for lunch under the trees of Old Nick Village. There is some hesitancy and shy smiles. I tell Sameer about a trip I took to India in 2012, and the broken Hindi I remember from bargaining at the markets in Colaba. A laugh is shared and the ice is broken.

Back in the office we go through documentation to check salaries, working hours, benefits, compensation and more… We look over company registration, tax clearance, occupancy certificates, workmen’s compensation, bargaining agreements… And then Sameer meets with a random selection of our team to check whether they’re happily employed at Mungo.

We trace the cycle of a yarn lot – from the purchase order, batch numbers, warping stage, production quantities, loss calculations, stitching stages, washing, packing lists, sale invoices and transportation… My pen flies over the page.

On Day 2 I collect Sameer from his accommodation and we head to the Mungo top mill at Melton farm with Lenore, Nadene and Moses. We complete the health and safety checks as per the day before. I can’t help being distracted by the warping machine. Thousands of threads are drawn from the cones, pass onto the creel and wind onto the beam.

We return to Old Nick to gather further paperwork, and between cups of tea, Sameer begins to compile his report.

On day 3, we meet up with Lenore at the mill, and then head over to the laundry service. Piles of bright Folly Beach Towels and geometric Itawulis pass through the machines and onto the iron rolling devices.

As before, we proceed with inspections, discuss the working conditions, trawl through paperwork and then get to the nitty gritty of traceability – tracing each lot of laundry, from arrival, to washing and ironing and return, and whether each step of the way is GOTS approved.

With high school Maths in my back pocket, I scramble over the calculator to help work out the energy consumption of the laundromat.

“The idea is to get an idea now, so that we can set targets for improvement. There are always ways to look at reducing the use of water and electricity…”

With the finish line now in sight, we return for a last team meeting. Sameer presents his final report, and any outstanding NCs that need to be fixed.

With a wry smile, we are told not to worry – all the NCs are solvable!

Fast forward a few months and the story gets put on hold.
The outbreak of COVID-19 in South Africa leaves us, like many other independent businesses, unsure what the future will hold; if there is one to envision at all.

And then, like a small beam in the darkness, a certificate lands in our mailboxes.

“All conditions to award your company a certificate have been fulfilled.”

Now the first certified weaving mill in the country, we can officially say, ‘We GOTs it.’

The Aegean Towel, and the products we hope to follow in its suit, live on to spin another yarn.

In 2019, our one-of-a-kind weaving mill turned two. Based on the Garden Route in Plettenberg Bay, our mill forms the heartbeat of Mungo – a place which evidences our commitment to weaving with integrity and full transparency.

This year our family got also bigger – we welcomed 14 new staff members to Mungo (and 2 new babies), growing our team to over 80 people.

2019 also saw the next evolution of our CSR, MOVE. From the start of the financial year, we pledged 1% of our annual turnover to projects and causes that support the social development, and environmental upliftment, of the the Plettenberg Bay community. Through MOVE we also host staff development workshops and courses. Read more about our self-care and sewing workshops, or the #goodthymes we had at our permaculture course.

Mungo Goes Organic

In 2019 we started the process of shifting our yarn to organic sources. The first step was to go in search of the world’s finest organic yarn, from which we wove our first-ever organic towel: the Aegean. Read more about why we believe in this towel, and how it came to be, here.

A Kikoi For a Cause

Every year we invite students from The Crags Primary School to attend a tour and workshop at our mill. Under the guidance of our designer, Lenore, each student designs their own kikoi colourway. From the simulations, a winning design is chosen, put into production at our mill and sold in aid of the Kids of Kurland foundation. See the 2019 ‘Kids of Kurland Kikoi’ here.

Gimme That Summer Feeling

This year we refreshed our Summer Towel range with two new colourways: Lemon and Mint. Light, absorbent and just in time for summer.

It’s All Hood

We launched a smaller, hooded version of our full-size Summer Towel – perfect for little humans.

Selvedge Gets A Refresh

Our pure linen Selvedge Serviettes are now available in 12 different colourways. Avoid confusion at the table by assigning each guest a different colourway. Shop the full set for a special price.

We Popped Up to Say Hello in Charleston

This year we opened our first US store in South Carolina. Turns out our small store with big dreams was more of a pop-up… and we had to close our doors. But the good news is that our US online store is going strong – and stock of our full range will soon be added here.

2019 Trade Shows

This year we attended two international trade shows – Top Drawer and NYNOW. You can read more about some of Lilah’s favourites finds at NYNOW here.

Textile Exchange

We want our commitment to sustainability to reflect itself in the decisions that we make – filtered through from our fibres to the finished products. That’s why we shipped off our MD, Dax Holding, to the 2019 Textile Exchange Conference – to connect with industry experts and collect innovative ideas for the future of sustainable textile design.

Best-Selling Product

Word on the web is that our Itawuli was the best-selling product for 2019. With it’s characteristic geometric design and bright hues, this towel has become an icon – a signature of our flat weave range.

Instagram

Mungo custom Kamma Linen #broketheinternet on our Instagram account (well…almost).

View this post on Instagram

Spotted: custom coral Kamma Bed Linen at Kataza House, @singita_ . Our Kamma Linen is woven from pure Italian-spun flax at the #mungomill with a natural lustre & luxuriously crisp finish.

A post shared by MUNGO (@mungodesign) on Oct 15, 2019 at 1:41am PDT

Best of the Blog

According to our readers, our most popular blogs from 2019 were Introducing the Vrou-Vrou and What’s in a Name? The Story Behind ‘Mungo’.

Every month we ask our followers to submit pictures of their Mungo towel adventure using #mungotowelstory – with the winning submission standing a chance to win an R800 Mungo voucher. Here are some of our favourites from 2019.

2019 has been another busy year at Mungo – and we’ve already got some exciting things in the pipeline for 2020. For now, we’d like to extend a big thank you for your support, and wish you all a happy holidays. Here’s looking at you, 2020.

In August seeds were ‘sown’. In September, they were planted (and harvested).

Following from our first staff development workshop of 2019 – a beginner sewing course held through the month of August – we recently wrapped up our second course of the year.

Over three weeks, members of our team got down and dirty (literally) as they were guided through the principles of permaculture. The focus was on being resourceful – think limited space and limited spend.

Say Aloe to My Little Friend

Week one got the group off to a radishing start. Under the guidance of Melody from our stock department, the group got to grips with building small gardens. After looking at how to prepare mulch, they got down to it – creating wall gardens using recycled bottles and containers, and stacked gardens using up-cycled tyres. They also learnt about vermiculture – using earthworms to aerate the soil. #goodthymes

Thyme to Turnip the Beet

Week two focussed on growing vegetables using food scraps and grains. Our team learnt how to regrow veggies using leftover seeds and stalks, and how to use a bottle to propagate grains, beans, lentils and sprouts. No fig deal.

Herb your Enthusiasm

The final session of the gardening course focussed on water filtration and reticulation – including how to build a filter system using a bucket, and using charcoal to remove impurities from grey water.

Thyme to Celery-brate

A few weeks on and our permaculture gardens are flourishing – with leafy veg growing abundantly from our wall and pyramid gardens.
We hope thistle cheer you up!

Something to Be Grapeful About

We recognise that it is our responsibility to actively give back to those who enable us to function and flourish, and not to take anything for granted.

Our workshops are held through our Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) initiative, MOVE. Through MOVE we continually look for ways to improve our symbiosis with the human and natural environments around us. We pledge 1% of our annual turnover to this initiative, and to  projects and causes that support the Plettenberg Bay community, in which our hub of production is located.

Enjoy this story? Read more about our previous staff development workshop – a beginner sewing course held through the month of August.

It’s 3am and Tess and I are seated across from a Turkish customs officer. I’m piggybacking off his phones Wi-Fi connection. I imagine if I was in real trouble, this office would be intimidating. He has a large wooden desk and his chair is big and comfortable. Tess and I on the other side of his desk are uncomfortable on tiny wooden stools – they look like they were taken from a child’s play table set. It’s comical to us, but only because our infringement is minor: we don’t have the right visa to get into Turkey.

Why are we here? Months before we had planned a three-week holiday to Greece. I’ve always wanted to visit – everyone has told me that I look Greek since I was five. I need to see the truth for myself. I must know. But a few weeks before we’re due to depart, Tess approaches me with a… let’s call it a proposition. But that’s not entirely correct since it’s not as if I can say no to anything she asks of me. Love is like that.

“We need to go to Turkey,” she says.

Mungo has been looking for GOTS-certified organic cotton for some time. There’s a bit of organic cotton in Africa, and we already weave a few products from the yarn we can get. But it lacks certification, and we need to know that the rules are being followed. It’s not just about how it’s grown. The ginning process also has to be organic. There are only a few ginning plants left in South Africa and they aren’t about to shut down their plant, clean everything and then produce the yarn we need. That would be several days work for our small needs. The demand must grow first.

So we have a plan. If we can produce organic cotton products that people want, maybe we can build demand for organic cotton. Maybe we can be the catalyst for that change here in South Africa. So to do that, we’ll import the yarn.

And that’s why we’re cutting a week out of our holiday to go to Turkey.

I’m a pedantic traveller

There were conditions to this deal. I will have no hand in planning any of it. So now we’re stuck at the airport. Finally, we manage to get our visas sorted and we’re in. In the taxi on the dark streets of Izmir, I’m drifting off to sleep when Tessa tells me she could have walked in with her British passport. She stuck with me though. Love is like that.

The next morning we find our way to the head office of Egedeniz Textiles – they are leaders in organic and sustainable fibres and they supply many top brands. We’re excited to meet them. We chat with company heads about yarn and weaving. I show them pictures of Hattie (our 100yr old loom). Tess is here for business, I’m just enjoying the small talk. They show us their yarn testing facility, their CMT operation and finally bundle us into a car. We drive for a few hours, leaving the industrial hub of Izmir behind.

The countryside is a curious mix of industrial and rural. There are so many factories; this region of Turkey is production central. But there are also farms and small villages. Everywhere I look I see renewable energy in use, farmland dotted with turbines. We pass two factories producing nothing but wind turbines. Solar panels cover entire hillsides. I think about load shedding.

We make our way through a small farming town. At nearby cafes, men sit and play cards and drink tea. It’s the middle of the day. “Where are all the women?” asks Tess. Our guides laugh nervously and decline to answer.

Finally, we’re in the fields. The farmer proudly shows us the plants and answers our questions through the interpreter. He’s super passionate about everything cotton related. He beams proudly when we ask to take pictures with him. To be certified organic, cotton must be picked by hand. That’s why we’re in this particular field, where it’s currently being harvested. We meet the harvesters. I have a go at the job. It’s difficult and exhausting. Around us, the wind turbines turn endlessly. It’s quite lovely.

Organic cotton is grown without the use of harmful chemicals – even the manure used has to be organic. So I ask about fertilizer. The farmer tells us he gets only the finest cow manure for use on his fields. I’ve never met anyone this proud of manure, but it’s part of his passion for growing cotton this way. Love is like that.

That evening Tess and I dine out on the waterfront. We’re surrounded by businessmen speaking every language. They’re talking oil, textiles, big things. We talk about manure. On the walk back to our hotel we pass a political rally. There’s a tonne of that around; massive pictures of Atatürk and giant Turkish flags. We have to step aside as a group of youths come rollerblading down the path. They’re dressed in funky colours, shiny sparkling jackets, crazy hair. One of them carries a boombox blasting tunes. Two of them are spinning neon flashlights. The last guy in the line has a pug on his shoulder. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it.

The following day we leave Izmir going in the opposite direction. We’re driving to Denizli. Denizli is all about textiles. Every major building is either a ginning plant or a weaving mill. They’re huge, our little weaving mill in Plett would be dwarfed, but it’s a lot better looking. Of course, I’m biased. We visit a ginning plant dealing in organic cotton. The manager of this plant is a woman and she’s been in charge here for twenty years. In a male-dominated society, this is pretty unusual. She’s tough and no-nonsense, and people around her jump to do what she says. I really like her a lot.

We learn all about the processes of ginning and spinning. How bales of cotton get turned into the yarn we want to buy. It’s a streamlined process – quite a juxtaposition from the handpicking of the day before. Massive bales of cotton boules go in one end, the cotton is stretched and pulled over and over and at each step, the strands get longer and finer. As we leave we are gifted a set of terry cloth towels to take with us. I keep quiet about the nine Mungo flat weave towels we’re already travelling with. We always travel with our own towels. Love is like that.

We spend one more day in Izmir before flying to Greece to start our holiday. We’ve found what we’ve been looking for. On our return to South Africa, it quickly becomes apparent that we enjoyed our holiday a whole lot: Tessa is pregnant. I think about the world we’re bringing a child into. How each of us has to do everything we can to make a change. How companies must do the right thing – exploiting our resources for profit can no longer be the norm. I’m glad Mungo is doing what it can; we all want to build a better world for us and our children to live in. Love is like that.

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Watch our video about our search for organic cotton in Turkey and more about why we’re going organic.

The organic block rib towel is available in three colourways; Russet, White & Orion.