The Banana Man

The Banana Man 3.28.16

“So you kind of walk straight along this road for a while and look for a tiny sign about bananas. Then you turn left and walk down a dirt road for 15 minutes. It’s a small house on the right. You’ll knock, and when it feels like he’s not going to answer, he’ll show up.”

Without Google maps or street signs or streets, my sense of direction has gotten pretty phenomenal. These are the directions I received in order to find an ambiguous banana art museum. The name alone was enough to spike my interest.

The museum is in a city about 4 hours south of my town, Shashamene- uniquely home to a large Rastafari community. (Bus rides under 8 hours are considered excellent in my book. Bonus if I can get a window open without someone immediately shutting it.) I was only about 54% confident with where I was going, but my friends and I were determined to find the banana art.

Two bajaj rides, 0 liters of water, 3 misleading escorts, and a 45 minute walk later, we came across a tin fence on the right of a dirt road with a shabby sign indicating we have arrived. I knocked, waited a while, and, finally, the door screeched opened. A man with long grey dreadlocks answered with an ambivalent look on his face.

Me: Hi.

Banana Man: Hi, how can I help you?

Me: Um, we want to see the museum?

Banana Man: (*Looks up at the sign above his head entitled “Banana Art Museum-Always Open” and then looks back at us) I am the Banana Man. Come in.

We enter the front yard filled with different gardens, plants, and, of course, banana trees. The Banana Man is a one of a kind artist who makes his art strictly using material from banana trees. The leaves, bark and flowers of the banana tree add life to his art. His process is very methodical as he carefully chooses precise textures, tones to create his work. He beautifully captures different aspects of Ethiopian culture with a unique medium. The gallery was astounding! His personality as well as his art was all a part of the experience. He has a captivating way of telling stories that allowed him to express both his genuineness and his wonderfully dry humor. He told us he is made from love and fire and things like stress are not allowed in his home. He claimed to be 65, but didn’t look a day over 40. That’s probably why.  As we were wrapping up our visit, he insisted to sign one of our cards, saying it may be worth millions one day. How could I say no? In mine he wrote:

“To a queen- I am carrying my name on your heart instead on a tombstone.”

He escorted us out, and we shared mutual appreciation for each other. Before I reached to open the door, he immediately stopped me. He then pulled a television remote control out of his pocket, pointed it at the door, pushed some buttons, made some beeping sounds, and opened the door for us.

Thanks for sharing your passion and peace with us, Banana Man.