This day was a holiday for the workers on the house of Andrés and Juanita. We had gone to sleep not knowing whether we were being picked up from there or dropped off at Alberth and Magdalena’s place in Quito. We were quite startled when Juanita came up the stairs at 8:30 to say Alberth would be here at 9:00! We shoved everything into suitcases and tumbled down the stairs to breakfast. I was sad to leave the family, it had come to feel like home. Vincent had said to me when we woke up that he didn’t want to do any interviewing today, he needed to rest. I said to myself, “Well, we’ll see.” I can’t predict anything about Ecuador. Even the cultural “arriving late” doesn’t always apply, as right on time, Alberth arrived to bring us to Quito.
We piled in and I encountered my first shock—I thought my Spanish was getting better. But it was mostly Juanita’s speaking slowly and distinctly that had created that impression. After a week with the Flores family, I was understanding all of them better and better. But Alberth speaks differently, more rapidly, with more run-together words. So I did my “swing me slow” speech, and we managed to communicate a little better until he took off running again.
When we arrived at their home, Magdalena was delighted to see us. Our room is above her sister’s house about six blocks away. She was so concerned that we have everything we need. She thought maybe it would be better for us to bunk on a mattress in the corner of the living room if we needed internet, as her sister has none. We assured her that wouldn’t be necessary, that we’d already had breakfast and didn’t need to eat more, and Alberth led us to the workshop below their house to meet the women who work there.
He explained that because business had increased since we were last there (in 2011), he had hired five more workers. The room was long and narrow with a table full of tagua beads in the center, 11 women ranged around the table. They all wore sky-blue shopcoats and caps, the senior workers with their names embroidered on their coats. We explained why we were there and they introduced themselves. We asked how many had children (it is a common icebreaker here). Everyone raised her hand. There were about five or so younger women, six or seven middle-aged ones and only two or three older ones (40s or above). We asked how they had heard about the job and each one explained she was a relative of one of the owners, she was a relative of one of the current or former workers, she was a neighbor of one of the workers, her cousin had told her about it. No matter where you go, it is always about whom you know, isn’t it?
They were working on an order for Ten Thousand Villages for 700 bracelets. The order was to be finished today. The atmosphere was relaxed, but everyone was working at a good clip except for one of the older women. They explained that she was slow, but that her work was of excellent quality. She particularly excelled in fine, detailed work. Others all had their specialties or assignments—one was quality control, one was timekeeper, three of them liked the crochet designs and so forth. The radio was playing up-tempo Andean music and as they got used to the presence of the foreigners, they relaxed. A bit of gentle banter and teasing punctuated the intense concentration. Normally they work 8 to 5, with an hour off for lunch. Since today was a holiday, Alberth told them they could leave early when they had finished 60 bracelets. The pace and the laughter quickened. The two women on the ends of the table nearest me were the fastest of all the workers. They quickly counted how much they had each done and then set to work at a blazing pace. Alberth encouraged them a little bit by whispering to them how much the other had left to make. They worked still faster, with jokes and smiles all around the table. About 11:30, Magdalena took us on a tour of the workshop, showed us the machines which Alberth, a gifted mechanic, had invented and constructed to make the production of tagua jewelry faster and therefore more economically rewarding. She then showed us the design room at the top of the building and left us to prepare lunch.
At 1:00 we broke for lunch, chicken and rice in a very savory broth. Afterwards, Magdalena stayed with us and we began the interview process with her. As we had started at the beginning, we very quickly got into the days of great struggle she and Alberth had experienced. They were married in July, 1992. They were living near the coast, Alberth worked for an Italian manufacturer of buttons repairing the machinery and equipment to keep the plant running smoothly. For the last six months of his employment, all the paychecks he received bounced. One day he arrived at the factory to discover that all the machinery, supplies and furniture were gone. Magdalena said simply, “We were robbed.”
This was how the work carving tagua began. Alberth had a friend who knew how to carve animal figures. In 1993, they learned how to make them and began a ten-year odyssey making and selling tagua animals. Magdalena’s first piece was a turtle, Alberth’s an elephant. They started with just these two pieces and very little else. Magdalena would walk up and down the beach selling the figures, and anything else she could. She likes to sell, but it was very difficult to sell enough to live. By this time her daughter Diana was born, and she brought her along on these walks, tied to her back at first, then toddling. At one point, she had asked a friend in France what she thought of the idea of Magdalena’s going to Spain to look for work to support the family. Her friend replied, no, it was better to try to work in Ecuador, as it wasn’t guaranteed she would find anything in a new place, and then what? Better to stay with her family. And so she did.
In 1995, the country went into a financial panic. They raised chickens, painted houses, worked in the fields with machetes, sold tagua jewelry and did whatever work they could find to survive. Juanita felt desperate. Conditions on the coast got so bad, they decided to return to Quito in hopes of finding a better market for their work. They found a remote place to rent which was cheaper. Magdalena went from shop to shop with her (now) two children, carrying boxes of tagua jewelry and figurines up and down the streets to shops, to the airport, anywhere she could find to try to sell their work. She left the house to wash clothes for other women in their homes. She sold fried potatoes in the streets. She told me simply, “There was much suffering.”
There were tears in her eyes (and mine) as she related all this. She said, “Remembering this history is painful.” Vincent paused the interview to say, “Everyone who looks at a piece of your jewelry can see not only your skill and artistry, but the pain and struggle that went into it. That is what makes it beautiful.” Then we all started to cry, shared tears, holy tears, I felt, as we encountered and felt for ourselves the sharp stones on the Calvary road they had walked.
With difficulty, we gathered ourselves to finish the story. At this time (early 2000s) Alberth was trying to get enough money to invest in parts so he could make machinery to speed up the tagua finishing process and so gain more income. They could only make 20 figurines in 18 hours. The machinery could help make this more profitable. Little by little, they gained the money to buy what they needed to get their business going. In spite of all the other work they had to do, they kept working with the tagua.
When they got a polishing machine, they were able to work more in jewelry than in the figures, which did not sell as well. At first there weren’t many buyers for the tagua, because it was all in the natural state—an ivory color. They were giving away samples trying to get clients. Then they began to dye the pieces. The market for their jewelry increased significantly, as colored tagua was not much available anywhere else. So they stopped making the animals and concentrated on jewelry.
They had gained a fair trade client in 1995—Camari, based in Quito, but exporting all over the world. In 2007, two other meetings significantly altered the course of their business. In January, they met Chris Keefe, owner of Minga Imports. In March, they met Doug Lapp, buyer for Ten Thousand Villages. Suddenly there were a lot of orders. They hired four women to help and trained them. They like to hire women who are most in need of money, (in particular, single moms and moderately disabled women) because they remember their own hard years so keenly. With the financial assistance of a local cooperative, they were able to buy in 2007 the house they currently live in. Their workshop is located there now, too. Before that, it had been impossible even to borrow as much as $500, so they mark 2007 as the beginning of the good times. They have grown about 25% in their sales in the last eight years, and have hired 11 more women. They have a customer in France who buys 50-60% of their output. North America, including Camari and Minga is 25-35%, and the rest come from Switzerland, Japan, England and a few other European countries.
This intensive interview lasted over four hours. We took a break, all of us, and went outside to walk around the neighborhood. Their home is fairly high, so we were able to see the tops of several volcanoes covered with snow. The lights were coming on in the city of Quito, an amazing sight. Since most of the houses are the same height, it looks like a carpet of buildings spread out over the mountains and ridges, valleys and arroyos. It was quite a beautiful evening. We had a simple supper, and I listened to my online course afterwards. About 9:40, we piled into the car to find our room, unpack and get some rest. We drove up and up a dark, bumpy road and came to a stop in front of—nothing. There was a steep (more than 60 degrees) hill, partly covered in grass, and a cement block wall on the right. Magdalena was headed straight up this hill with a pair of wool blankets in her hands. We followed blindly, stumbling up the bank in near-total darkness. Halfway up the hill (about 40 yards), Magdalena stopped and banged on a corrugated tin gate. Two dogs began barking, rousing all (approximately 20) the neighborhood dogs to imitate them. Magdalena’s sister came out, let us in, and we all climbed the cement stairs to the second floor, where wonder of wonders, we encountered a spacious room including kitchenette, bathroom with shower and a large area for two beds, a TV, a closet and a couple of chairs. Vincent was so happy to see something in the room besides a bed!
Needless to say, we toppled into sleep from the cliff of exhaustion. My thoughts on this day were centered on gratitude—gratitude for our work, for Alberth and Magdalena’s making it through such a long ordeal—and awe. Our new hosts are people of such rock-solid faith, keeping their sense of humor through all kinds of setbacks and focusing on what they can do to make life better, not only for themselves and their families, but for the 15 women who work for them. They care for them as Jesus taught—as if they were their own family. We may be out of oxygen. We may be out of energy. We may be out of our comfort zone (by a large margin). But we are standing on ground made holy by the tears and sacrifice and faith of Alberth and Magdalena.
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