January 30 First Interview, Cuenca

January 30, 2015

A day like no other, our last day of Spanish school here in Cuenca. We brought little gifts with a card for our teachers--they have been very good to us! Yadira and I spent four hours working with the two past tenses and the indicative mood. I can now say things like, "Do it now!" As if--

We went for lunch with about 16 other students to a restaurant where they served a dish very special to Ecuadoreans (and Andeans in general, I believe): cuy. The ancient people, Incas, Cañaris, and all who came before raised guinea pigs for food. Perhaps they think it odd that we make pets of them. It was very difficult to spend the lunchtime with a roasted guinea pig facing me with open mouth and rodent-type front teeth (there are teeth, small ones, also inside the roof of the mouth). Facts you did't want to know, I am sure, and neither did I! Our vegetarian entree, however, was delicious.

Afterwards, we went back to the school to check on e-mail and found our first interview assignment. I called to set it up for Sunday, and before I could suggest a time, the artisan responded: I will meet you in half an hour at this address. Confounded, unprepared and ever-so-slightly nervous, Vincent and I took a taxi there and waited a few minutes, perhaps less than ten. A truck drove up as we stood outside the gate with two broadly grinning people inside. Any fears I may have had vanished instantly. They welcomed us in with open arms, introduced themselves (Carlos and Blanca), and took us directly to the store room to see what they produce. They create the most lifelike turtles and other things out of marble and onyx and sell them to many shops around the world. They also have their own small booth in a co-op store here in Cuenca. A small boy (6) greeted us as we entered the storeroom, their grandson, Carlos, Jr., or Carlito, as he is called. WHAT a salesman he was. Apparently he sometimes helps out in their booth, and he has quite a spiel, all in Spanish, worked out about how nice these turtles like the ones in the Galapagos would be in your home--he rattled on nonstop for at least five minutes, while we stood with mouths agape. Very impressive communication skills that one has.

I hammered away at my Spanish, trying to shape sentences, cutting here, carving away there, looking up words as best I could with my dwindling eyesight and a dictionary with the smallest print ever invented. You could print half the Bible on two pages with that type! Vincent took photos of everything and helped me frame the questions. Because we didn't know when we left the house this morning that we would be interviewing artisans, we didn't have our voice recorder, so we slogged on through thickets of "bastante" and mysterious verb forms. They were such lovely people! They were very, very, VERY patient with us, and at one point it seemed they had not been told we were coming nor why we were here! Imagine welcoming two foreign strangers into your home, answering their questions, waiting until they ask you, "Do you have questions for us?" to say, "How are you related to Chris and Minga Fair Trade?" Just exceedingly kind and generous! Blanca offered us some very delicious fruit juice and as we were finishing, asked us if we wanted to stay for coffee. We were both just blown away by their kindness.

They have four sons (or three sons and a daughter), one of whom is in the U.S. working right now.  We asked how they get ideas for new designs and they said that they mostly came from the businesses who order from them. They will make anything they are asked to. If only they had sufficient orders! And this is a common theme throughout fair trade land: How can we get more orders? In the case of the turtles, Carlos said he could make 100 4-cm. turtles in four days, and 100 8-cm. turtles in three. In other words, for the tiny ones, it takes MORE work--a third more time--to make the smaller ones, yet their price in the market is much, much lower. It's like the Chinese finger-trap--if you make them larger, you can sell them for more, and they are less work, but people always want the smaller ones with the lower price. At this point, we don't know how to be helpful, but we promised to report all they said to the U.S. in the hope that some satisfactory solutions might be found.

We asked what they would like customers in the U.S. and Europe to know about them and their work. Each of them replied in different ways that the work with stone is very difficult. The dust from carving and sanding gets into the workers' lungs and poisons them, therefore they have to wear masks. The stone is very, very heavy, and they have to carry their products in boxes to the local shops or the post office for sale or shipment to other countries. They would like customers to know that the work is difficult and that a lot more goes into it than can be imagined from looking at the finished piece.

They have a truck which uses a lot of gas but is strong enough to carry the weight, but probably needs to be replaced or at least repaired. Their house is tiny by N. American standards, but beautiful with an open courtyard in the center where it seems they do a lot of the work. The open air reduces the dust, but increases the cold in the winter, which affects Carlos' bones, he says. I think he probably has arthritis from all the heavy labor he has done. Before they began the stone carving, they were both language arts teachers in a local high school. They needed extra income to raise their four children, so Carlos apprenticed himself (probably at about age 25 or 30) to some local stone carvers. He didn't have to pay them for his learning, and when he got good enough, they paid him a little. He started working with fair trade he thinks about six or seven years ago (I think it is more, because I was selling his turtles before that, but who knows?) He didn't recognize the term, "fair trade," though.

When I explained the idea to him, he became very animated, and I think I lost a lot in the translation, but what was clear is that they don't have enough orders to sustain themselves on the stonework alone. When I explained to them that we wanted to know their history so that we could sell more of  their work, they both were happy. I told them that we in the fair trade world were very aware of how hard they work, and that it inspires us to work harder, even though we still do not work as hard as they do. I promised them both I would do my best to tell their story and to help them sell more stone carvings. We parted with smiles, tears and hugs, and Carlos kindly drove us back to the city center in his truck--this after he had driven back from the airport to meet with us at his home--twice across the city during rush hour. On the way, I explained to Carlos that he was our first interviewee, and that we thought that he had been informed that we would be coming and asking questions and why. I said we were so grateful for their kind reception, even though it seemed that they had NOT been told much at all beforehand. He waved it all away and said the pleasure was his.

I asked him how he thought the interview had gone, since it was our first. He replied he thought it had gone very well. He did wonder why I spoke better Spanish than Vincent, and I explained that I had had more instruction. I think he might possibly have wondered why the wife was doing all the talking and the husband all the picture-taking, but he was kind enough, if so, not to divulge this.

All in all, this interview, more than anything else, even the assurances of my Spanish instructor, made us both feel hopeful about the success of the project. It went very well--we had only the camera and my notebook and pen and as much Spanish as I could cobble together in ten days. The reason it went so well is that the artisans were so kind, so helpful, so eager to share their work and their lives. I am grateful afresh for all the wonderful people we have met through being involved in fair trade. It truly is good work, gracias a Díos.