THE LIVING CULTURE OF WOKHA

Added: 2026-05-19

[00:00:16]As the first light of dawn touches the hillsides of Va, a sound rises before the mist has even lifted. The sound of women's voices moving together like a single river. Oh, >> after the wheat seeds have been carefully pressed pressed into the soil.

[00:01:00]The land must be tended, dried weeds pulled, loose stones cleared, the earth smoothed and prepared to credle new life.

[00:01:35]This is the work of the women of Woka and they do not do it in silence.

[00:01:41]Dressed in their traditional wraps, baskets on their backs and tools in hand, they descend the slops in groups, mothers, daughters, grandmothers, neighbors. Age does not separate them here. The field makes everyone equal.

[00:02:13]Halle say Say, say what the in the Ghana.

[00:03:16]And then say you're not you're not say Son says Ghana Ghana Say, say oh.

[00:04:42]In this fast changing world, preserving culture is very important. The weavers, singers and pottery making are the cultures of our society, keeping the identity of loca strong and alive.

[00:04:58]In Walka, pottery making is one of the most prominent features of Loa heritage.

[00:05:04]Pottery is not made. It is born from earth. Patience and generations of touch from earth to fire. Each pot is molded by hand and fired the traditional way.

[00:05:16]She carefully hits the clay with wooden blocks. Fatu shaping it with rhythm, not force. She waits, watching, feeling till it has the correct shape and size for the pot to come into form. No mold guides her, only memory.

[00:05:54]Clay is gathered, softened, and coxed into form slowly, deliberately with hands that press and turn and mood. No wheel spins here. Only passions, skill, and an intimate knowledge of the material guide each vessel into being.

[00:06:39]Here the traditional way of fire making begins. Not with a match or a lighter, but with patience. The man picks a handful of dried grass gathered weeks ago and kept safe from the rain. He takes the fire stick, places it in the groove of the heartboard, and begins to rub. He feeds the newborn flame with twigs, then logs. The fire grows steady and sure. This is not for cooking. This is for craft. The fire to burn the pots, each one skillfully molded, is now ready. The pots are set in the pit covered with more wood.

[00:07:48]The pot is finally taking shape, ready for the sun, then the burn in the fire.

[00:07:54]It will sit for hours in flame, hardening into something that will hold water, cook and carry heritage.

[00:08:31]In the heart of the monsoon season, the forest offers one of its most beloved gifts, the bamboo shoot. Freshly harvested shoots are brought home, peeled layer by layer, and prepared with care. Some are fermented in traditional urtton pots, developing the deep pungent flavor that is the hallmark of Naga cuisine.

[00:09:56]Others are sundried. or boiled and preserved for the months ahead.

[00:10:02]Bamboo shoot is more than an ingredient.

[00:10:05]It is identity. A taste that carries a people's roots in every bite. A flavor that says we are from these hills and these hills are within us. When the bamboo shoot is ready, it will find its way into stews, chutneys, and shared meals, carrying with it the quiet labor of one woman's hands and the wisdom of generations before her.

[00:10:37]With skillful hands and a simple blade, the lot artisan enters the grove. He knows the stocks like old friends. He selects the right stock, splits it along its grain, and begins to shape what will soon become a plate. A plate smooth, firm, and entirely handcrafted.

[00:10:57]No machines, only memory. He slowly crafts the fresh bamboo, his skillful hands, twisting it until it yields.

[00:11:47]Gotcha.

[00:12:23]So beautiful.

[00:12:52]Beside him sits a young boy. He is testament the next keeper of this craft.

[00:13:00]He weaves a bamboo basket which are used in the olden days. The strips are soaked, bent and woven with precision.

[00:13:10]In lot homes, these plates have served rice for generations.

[00:13:16]Each weave holds years of quiet mastery passed from elder to child without a single word written down. What was forest is now heritage. What was craft is now legacy. From Moa's soil to the elers's hands to the child's future.

[00:15:15]Heat. Heat.

[00:16:11]At the edge of the field sits the oldest among them. Her harvesting days have slowed, but her eyes miss nothing. She watches. She corrects a small hands grip. She knows when it is done right.

[00:16:26]The elderly woman takes her place.

[00:16:29]Fingers moving with a suress that no hurry could ever improve.

[00:17:36]She draws the fiber out, twisting it gently as the spindle turns, cocking raw cotton into a tre so fine and even it seems almost impossible.

[00:17:48]Sit beside a woka woman at her loom and you will hear a language older than words.

[00:19:11]The threads rich in earthy reds, deep blacks and warm whites move in and out in patterns that tell stories. Stories of lineage, of festivals, of love and loss. The traditional lot shaw is not simply worn. It is earned, gifted, and revered.

[00:19:33]Each motive on the fabric is a memory.

[00:19:36]Each completed piece a chapter of community history that can be drapped across the shoulders and carried into the world.

[00:21:00]Holy hol, holy hol.

[00:21:08]Holy.

[00:21:12]Holy.

[00:21:16]Allah.

[00:21:30]Holo.

[00:21:34]Holo.

[00:21:47]I enjoy thee. Oh, I adore Lord. All I enjoy. Oh Lord.

[00:22:04]Holy Shalo hle.

[00:22:42]There you go. There you go.

[00:22:57]Hallelujah.

[00:23:16]Rod, oh God.

[00:23:25]Holy, holy, holy, holy, homo.

[00:23:56]Holo.

[00:24:07]Oh sh is Oh sh Holly, holo, holo, holo.

[00:25:07]I am Now again ho ho ho hol. All I hle.

[00:25:47]Ho, >> culture is not just about the past. It is about belonging. In Bokhar district, culture is not fading, but it lives on with its people. There wean takes you along the vibrant culture of Nland. And this is your host Maroni from Dashan Kraima.