This morning, we said good-bye to the Rojas family--we had grown very fond of them. Carlos' mother explained that the young man I saw studying in the patio was also working for them while going to school. She said there were many young men (varones) like him who would love the chance to work and go to school. This one is helping his mother with living expenses while he goes to school. They employ as many people in this circumstance as they can--it is not just for us, she explained, that we do this work. Carlos and his mother both run through the compound constantly, fixing this, demonstrating that. The two of them drove us to Otavalo, where we first faxed our application ($18!!!!) then had an early lunch, picked up Romel and caught the bus first to Ibarra, then to San Antonio de Ibarra, a small community of wood artisans. San Antonio is home to about three thousand artisans, mostly in wood.
Right outside the main entrance to the town is a museum and gallery of the most famous of them all. The statues are very imposing. We rode the jolting bus up, up and up to the top of the town and stopped in front of a tall gate, where our hostess, Aida Males, was waiting for us. We walked through an extensive compound accompanied by several barking dogs, one of which was Maya, the mother of two pups. Maya turned out to belong to Aida, as she followed us into the house.
Aida specializes in glass. Early in her career, she studied architecture, and the home she now lives in she designed herself. It is spacious, although with a small footprint, and airy. It has magnificent views of the surrounding mountains and the town of Ibarra, and this night, we watched the clouds creep up the mountainsides until everything was covered except her house. We had a lovely time with her, asking her about her family and her work. Her husband died in 2014, leaving her a widow with three older children, a son, Felipe, 29, and two daughters, Yamani, 22, and Anaís, 18. Felipe is a tattoo artist who lives in Quito most of the time and visits his mother once a week. Yamani is studying odontology in university, and Anaís, sound production, also in university. One thing we learned early and well is that she is always working to care for the needs of her family.
The compound is populated by various members of Aida's family as well as her mother, who is also a widow. When her father died, the land was divided up between the siblings, and now each one has his or her own house, as well as various children and grandchildren having dwellings here. It is literally one big happy family. I asked Aida about this, and she replied that like every family, they had people who were hard to get along with and people who were very easy-going. But it is clear from the way that small children appear in various houses at different times that everyone takes care of and enjoys being with everyone else.
Her brother took charge of Felipe many times when his father was unavailable, and she is very grateful--anything this brother needs or asks for, she is happy to do--haircuts or birthday cakes are no problem.
This first night we are tired from the long journey, but we sense we have met a kindred spirit here and have been welcomed in first class style.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Wednesday, March 11 Puzzling Out the Knot
Most of the day was spent on the computer--first with two Skype meetings for the morning, then in the afternoon, we went to an internet cafe to print out the French Market application form. It seems clear to proceed in our accustomed direction--French Markets during the summer in Wheaton and Wilmette and church markets in the fall and early winter. We can't see farther than this summer. We're still hoping the house will sell to free us up to pursue new directions.
It is our hope also to improve communications in the enterprise for which we are volunteering. It is quite a challenge to keep everything moving smoothly when there are barriers between countries, not only of borders and governments, but of language and culture. Sometimes everyone's best efforts seem to be required to move some big rock. Sometimes, the rock--she ain't a-movin'.
It is our hope also to improve communications in the enterprise for which we are volunteering. It is quite a challenge to keep everything moving smoothly when there are barriers between countries, not only of borders and governments, but of language and culture. Sometimes everyone's best efforts seem to be required to move some big rock. Sometimes, the rock--she ain't a-movin'.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Tuesday, March 10 Cayambe Connections
We took this day for ourselves, after spending many, many days interviewing and writing reports. We were going to return to Cotacachi, but opted instead for Cayambe, a much larger and busier town, as it turns out. Cayambe is known for bizcochos--a kind of biscuit with a lot of shortening in it, very crispy and salty. So everywhere we went, we saw them advertised. We had already eaten some, so I passed. Cayambe was a bit farther afield than we have been before on our own. We had seen it driving into Otavalo and thought it was pretty. There is a lot of new construction. We found people to be very friendly there, very helpful. The city has a tourist office, where they explained our map and told us not to pay more than $3 for a ride to the tourist sites. The mountains around the town are pretty, too.
During the bus ride, we saw again how many people get on at one stop, distribute their merchandise to anyone who will accept it--a piece of gum or candy usually--then give their spiel at the front of the bus, sometimes very impassioned and go back down the aisles having guilted everyone into paying 25 to 50 cents for their piece of gum. Sometimes the people just give it back, but many people seem to reward a good performance. One lady promised to pray for everybody who would contribute to her bus fare to where she needed to go. I think it was more urgent than that sounds, but I don't yet have enough Spanish to understand the spiels.
Sometimes one person will start his or her spiel and another will get on the bus, walking through with ice creams or plastic cups full of watermelon or pineapple. The first person will wait until that one has finished to begin again. We have of course seen this in Chicago (although it is much more difficult than it used to be on the trains and impossible on the buses). It struck me again how difficult it is to earn enough money to support the family. When there are no jobs, low wages, and so many more people being born every year, the pressure is enormous.
Someone wrote about changing the economy to one of barter and sharing. Certainly there would be a different attitude toward money. I wonder what would happen? Would people only trade for the things they really need or want? Would there be as much waste? I don't know.
The application for the French Markets for the summer arrived. We will fill it out tomorrow and send it in. We've decided that we'll still be selling in fair trade markets, at least until Christmas. After that, or combined with that, we don't know.
We came back to Otavalo for a late vegetarian lunch in the patio. So pleasant there! We'll have to do it again tomorrow.
My class is tonight--I so look forward to these. I never know what new release from old pain and old patterns will come. Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage--these are constructed by the not-yet-developed minds of children. If only we can see them, we can remove them, these old imprisoning patterns. Every day I thank God for the possibility of changing my thoughts AND my reality.
During the bus ride, we saw again how many people get on at one stop, distribute their merchandise to anyone who will accept it--a piece of gum or candy usually--then give their spiel at the front of the bus, sometimes very impassioned and go back down the aisles having guilted everyone into paying 25 to 50 cents for their piece of gum. Sometimes the people just give it back, but many people seem to reward a good performance. One lady promised to pray for everybody who would contribute to her bus fare to where she needed to go. I think it was more urgent than that sounds, but I don't yet have enough Spanish to understand the spiels.
Sometimes one person will start his or her spiel and another will get on the bus, walking through with ice creams or plastic cups full of watermelon or pineapple. The first person will wait until that one has finished to begin again. We have of course seen this in Chicago (although it is much more difficult than it used to be on the trains and impossible on the buses). It struck me again how difficult it is to earn enough money to support the family. When there are no jobs, low wages, and so many more people being born every year, the pressure is enormous.
Someone wrote about changing the economy to one of barter and sharing. Certainly there would be a different attitude toward money. I wonder what would happen? Would people only trade for the things they really need or want? Would there be as much waste? I don't know.
The application for the French Markets for the summer arrived. We will fill it out tomorrow and send it in. We've decided that we'll still be selling in fair trade markets, at least until Christmas. After that, or combined with that, we don't know.
We came back to Otavalo for a late vegetarian lunch in the patio. So pleasant there! We'll have to do it again tomorrow.
My class is tonight--I so look forward to these. I never know what new release from old pain and old patterns will come. Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage--these are constructed by the not-yet-developed minds of children. If only we can see them, we can remove them, these old imprisoning patterns. Every day I thank God for the possibility of changing my thoughts AND my reality.
Monday, March 9
This morning we took the bus into Otavalo to continue our interview with Romel. He had said to us last time, "I doesn't have the gringo mind." Today we wanted to find out more about that. What are the invisible (to us) differences between North and south American thinking? The fish never sees the water, nor do we ever get more than a glimpse of the basic attitudes underlying our thinking.
Romel said that we from the north are driven by the clock. Here in Ecuador, where so many things northerners take for granted (punctual transport, reliable telecommunication, etc.) either don't exist or are severely compromised by events that would be considered abnormal in the north, but are a daily occurrence here, the main goal is to remain "tranquilo." In the north, where traffic jams are frequent, there is much honking and cursing and shaking of fists or fingers. Here traffic jams are just as frequent, but they are not considered a personal affront, and there is far less honking or other negative reaction. Our bus, for example was about 15 minutes late. We hurried as fast as we could, and ended up only being five minutes late. Yet we felt guilty. It hadn't fazed Romel at all. He just spent a few extra minutes in bed, for which he felt grateful, not annoyed.
I started thinking of the many other ways the clock drives us in the north. We're annoyed by lateness and feel guilty if we are the tardy ones. We always are thinking of how to fit things into the time available, instead of doing what we want to do. We think of time as money, and measure things in dollars per hour or per day. It seems normal, but what if time is given to us to DECIDE what to do with, not to fill with busy-ness? What if I decided from minute to minute what was important and I did it with conscious awareness of what I was doing? The sense of routine would be gone, and maybe I might not miss so many divine appointments. It's worth trying.
We went to lunch in a different place today, our outdoor cafe being closed on Mondays. After we got home, we worked more on the different reports. A lot of food for thought in what Romel told us.
Romel said that we from the north are driven by the clock. Here in Ecuador, where so many things northerners take for granted (punctual transport, reliable telecommunication, etc.) either don't exist or are severely compromised by events that would be considered abnormal in the north, but are a daily occurrence here, the main goal is to remain "tranquilo." In the north, where traffic jams are frequent, there is much honking and cursing and shaking of fists or fingers. Here traffic jams are just as frequent, but they are not considered a personal affront, and there is far less honking or other negative reaction. Our bus, for example was about 15 minutes late. We hurried as fast as we could, and ended up only being five minutes late. Yet we felt guilty. It hadn't fazed Romel at all. He just spent a few extra minutes in bed, for which he felt grateful, not annoyed.
I started thinking of the many other ways the clock drives us in the north. We're annoyed by lateness and feel guilty if we are the tardy ones. We always are thinking of how to fit things into the time available, instead of doing what we want to do. We think of time as money, and measure things in dollars per hour or per day. It seems normal, but what if time is given to us to DECIDE what to do with, not to fill with busy-ness? What if I decided from minute to minute what was important and I did it with conscious awareness of what I was doing? The sense of routine would be gone, and maybe I might not miss so many divine appointments. It's worth trying.
We went to lunch in a different place today, our outdoor cafe being closed on Mondays. After we got home, we worked more on the different reports. A lot of food for thought in what Romel told us.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015 Connecting the Dots
Tomorrow a bunch of reports are due, with four artisan interviews to type up plus the report for the (busy) week. This morning, we worked on those and sent two of the interviews. Vincent also spoke to his father and brother by phone. Later we spoke to Shoshanna as she was studying in her dorm. She got accepted for winter semester in Oaxaca next year--yay! She's decided on a double major--Spanish and English. Great for her, she is so skilled in communicating!
At noon, we celebrated International Women's Day with a teleconference including Jean Houston, Marianne Williamson and Claire Zammit--what a powerhouse trio. Jean explained that the traditional feminine role is to take care of the house and the children, and that has grown to taking care of the earth and everyone's children. A turning point in human history is upon us and women are uniquely called to step up and help it be a new beginning, rather than the end of the human story. Marianne explained that we are to shine our light, not in the places where the light is already shining, but in the darkness, and urged women to get radically involved in overturning unjust structures. Claire shared her story of transformation of her life by committing to being the best person she could envision to be. Both Vincent and I were so inspired.
Now as we are coming closer to the close of our journey, we are beginning to wonder what is next. We have certainly learned a lot about ourselves and about the struggles of so many people just to stay alive. We've also come closer to the realities of being biological creatures on this beautiful and amazing planet. We're hoping the future does not hold much big-city living!
In the evening, I spoke to our daughter, Elspeth. We ended up texting back and forth because the internet connection was so intermittent it could have been called intermit. We sense the Spirit at work in our lives, though we are not tall enough to see over-shoulder what She is working on. Family, friends, a call to action and to stay connected to everything inside us and around us--these are the bones on which flesh must be put. It is a call to the earth community of compassion, connection, reflection and concerted action.
We will stay tuned.
At noon, we celebrated International Women's Day with a teleconference including Jean Houston, Marianne Williamson and Claire Zammit--what a powerhouse trio. Jean explained that the traditional feminine role is to take care of the house and the children, and that has grown to taking care of the earth and everyone's children. A turning point in human history is upon us and women are uniquely called to step up and help it be a new beginning, rather than the end of the human story. Marianne explained that we are to shine our light, not in the places where the light is already shining, but in the darkness, and urged women to get radically involved in overturning unjust structures. Claire shared her story of transformation of her life by committing to being the best person she could envision to be. Both Vincent and I were so inspired.
Now as we are coming closer to the close of our journey, we are beginning to wonder what is next. We have certainly learned a lot about ourselves and about the struggles of so many people just to stay alive. We've also come closer to the realities of being biological creatures on this beautiful and amazing planet. We're hoping the future does not hold much big-city living!
In the evening, I spoke to our daughter, Elspeth. We ended up texting back and forth because the internet connection was so intermittent it could have been called intermit. We sense the Spirit at work in our lives, though we are not tall enough to see over-shoulder what She is working on. Family, friends, a call to action and to stay connected to everything inside us and around us--these are the bones on which flesh must be put. It is a call to the earth community of compassion, connection, reflection and concerted action.
We will stay tuned.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Saturday, March 7, 2015 Acclimating
Right after breakfast, Carlos agreed to finish our interview with him. He is such a busy guy! I always see him running, upstairs, downstairs, through the patio. He always smiles and greets us. We were delighted to have pinned him down.
No sooner had we agreed on this, Sonita and Francis, the couple from France asked for a ride to Otavalo, so Carlos turned to us, asked, "Is it okay? I'll be back in an hour." We are learning that the key to the tranquility of Ecuador is flexibility. Of course we said yes. Of course it was more than an hour, but we had reports to write anyway.
Carlos is the third generation in the family in the hat-making business. His grandfather started it in 1923. Zoila, Carlos' mother, started working in the business at fourteen. She remembers walking to the town with her grandfather, the hats stacked on the backs of burros. That must have been a sight! She grew up, got married, and carried on the business, even through the time of her husband's desertion when Carlos was quite young. She's a strong, strong woman, and the business really grew under her leadership. In 2002, Carlos took over the administration from his mother after completing his studies in business management at the university.
Their business is thriving. Their sales grew over 50% last year and they are still growing. They make hats from straw, wool and leather in about 30 different styles each year, many of them new. Carlos was very kind to show us lots of the processes of making the hats today, although none of the workers were here on this Saturday. He remarked that it was important to keep sales going strong, not only for him and his family, but for the many other families who have income from the work. Zoila explained that they have many young workers from the surrounding area who are still in school, but working to support their mothers and siblings. They are absolutely delighted to be able to help the young men in this way.
Carlos' wife died two years ago, leaving him with two sons, Michael, 8 and Sebastián, 6. He hopes that someday they will grow up to take over the business. He also hopes that in the interim, he can find a woman to help him move the business forward. I got the sense that his wife had been very active with him in the enterprise.
The whole Rojas family is so hospitable! Sonita and Francis are clients of theirs from France--they have been here about two weeks. Carlos and his family host them every year as they pick out hats for sale in the winter months in France. Another client we met later today is Vilia, from Lithuania, who is also a customer of Carlos. When we first arrived, Zoila was very concerned that we would have the food we like (Vincent is a vegetarian and I am lactose reluctant, if not completely intolerant.) We really have felt welcome here, and a part of things if we wished to be and left to ourselves if we preferred that. They could not be kinder!
After lunch, we rode the bus to Otavalo market again, our third visit. The home office wants us to acquire some samples for them. We were astonished to realize that not everything on offer is the same all the time. Afterwards we had lunch at the American cafe and rode home to Ilumán on a very jouncy and crowded bus. Poor Vincent, with his tall self, kept hitting his head on the ceiling of the bus.
When we arrived home, it was nearly time for Francis and Sonita to go to the airport. Although they are leaving at 7 p.m. or so, they won't arrive in Strasbourg until 10:00 tomorrow night. Long journeys are so hard! We have really enjoyed getting to know them a bit through our fractured English/Spanish/German trans-language. We will miss Sonita's bright laughter and Francis' steady good will and support.
All in all, since we arrived, we have been becoming steadily more at home. Having that in place allows us to begin to allow other topics to arise, such as what we will do when we arrive home in April. I am also working on releasing the captive inner self that I have so rejected and ignored for all these years. It feels as if I may return home a different, freer person. Certainly I have taken a huge leap into the unknown just coming here where I speak the language so poorly, but I know that my work--our work here will bear fruit in bettering the lives of many artisans in the way that the universe works, so I am content. To be at home wherever you are, that is the goal.
No sooner had we agreed on this, Sonita and Francis, the couple from France asked for a ride to Otavalo, so Carlos turned to us, asked, "Is it okay? I'll be back in an hour." We are learning that the key to the tranquility of Ecuador is flexibility. Of course we said yes. Of course it was more than an hour, but we had reports to write anyway.
Carlos is the third generation in the family in the hat-making business. His grandfather started it in 1923. Zoila, Carlos' mother, started working in the business at fourteen. She remembers walking to the town with her grandfather, the hats stacked on the backs of burros. That must have been a sight! She grew up, got married, and carried on the business, even through the time of her husband's desertion when Carlos was quite young. She's a strong, strong woman, and the business really grew under her leadership. In 2002, Carlos took over the administration from his mother after completing his studies in business management at the university.
Their business is thriving. Their sales grew over 50% last year and they are still growing. They make hats from straw, wool and leather in about 30 different styles each year, many of them new. Carlos was very kind to show us lots of the processes of making the hats today, although none of the workers were here on this Saturday. He remarked that it was important to keep sales going strong, not only for him and his family, but for the many other families who have income from the work. Zoila explained that they have many young workers from the surrounding area who are still in school, but working to support their mothers and siblings. They are absolutely delighted to be able to help the young men in this way.
Carlos' wife died two years ago, leaving him with two sons, Michael, 8 and Sebastián, 6. He hopes that someday they will grow up to take over the business. He also hopes that in the interim, he can find a woman to help him move the business forward. I got the sense that his wife had been very active with him in the enterprise.
The whole Rojas family is so hospitable! Sonita and Francis are clients of theirs from France--they have been here about two weeks. Carlos and his family host them every year as they pick out hats for sale in the winter months in France. Another client we met later today is Vilia, from Lithuania, who is also a customer of Carlos. When we first arrived, Zoila was very concerned that we would have the food we like (Vincent is a vegetarian and I am lactose reluctant, if not completely intolerant.) We really have felt welcome here, and a part of things if we wished to be and left to ourselves if we preferred that. They could not be kinder!
After lunch, we rode the bus to Otavalo market again, our third visit. The home office wants us to acquire some samples for them. We were astonished to realize that not everything on offer is the same all the time. Afterwards we had lunch at the American cafe and rode home to Ilumán on a very jouncy and crowded bus. Poor Vincent, with his tall self, kept hitting his head on the ceiling of the bus.
When we arrived home, it was nearly time for Francis and Sonita to go to the airport. Although they are leaving at 7 p.m. or so, they won't arrive in Strasbourg until 10:00 tomorrow night. Long journeys are so hard! We have really enjoyed getting to know them a bit through our fractured English/Spanish/German trans-language. We will miss Sonita's bright laughter and Francis' steady good will and support.
All in all, since we arrived, we have been becoming steadily more at home. Having that in place allows us to begin to allow other topics to arise, such as what we will do when we arrive home in April. I am also working on releasing the captive inner self that I have so rejected and ignored for all these years. It feels as if I may return home a different, freer person. Certainly I have taken a huge leap into the unknown just coming here where I speak the language so poorly, but I know that my work--our work here will bear fruit in bettering the lives of many artisans in the way that the universe works, so I am content. To be at home wherever you are, that is the goal.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Friday, March 6, 2015 Made with Love in Ecuador
As we wake up this morning, we hurry to call Amber before she leaves for school. It is her 16th birthday today. To think this beautiful young woman with the shy smile and deep black eyes was only born 16 years ago is to boggle the elderly (mine) mind. I think we called too early, because she seemed very sleepy. We are so lucky to have both our wonderful granddaughters. I don't know how we lived without them before!
We have two appointments with artisans today, one in Ilumán, where we are staying, in the afternoon, and one in the morning in Carabuela, only two miles away. Both artisan families are making children's sweaters. We took the bus to Otavalo to meet Romel, the country rep here and then took the bus with him to Carabuela (nearly returning from where we came in the process). We crossed a giant steel overpass to get from the bus to the town across the busy divided highway. There in the middle was an inexplicable mystery. A broken (clean) toilet lay in the walkway. Romel and I had the same thought--that they had been carrying it to install in a house in the little town, dropped it and broken it and had seen no point in carrying the heavy thing any further, now that it was useless. Vincent said, "No, someone just left it behind." Alternatively, perhaps they planned to return and bombard trucks on the highway.
As we walked to the Ruiz' family home, Romel told us the history of their workshop. They had worked with another artisan family for a number of years. They were responsible for creating the designs for all the workers in that other shop. At one point, the owner of the other workshop sold or gave away all their sweater designs to other artisans. They broke away from that group and started selling their own designs themselves. They sell in the market in Otavalo on Saturdays, mostly animal hats, and most of their sweaters to Minga Imports.
Romel found them in Carabuela in 2012, a town which is known for making sweaters, by going from house to house looking for artisans who wanted to make children's sweaters. He eventually found one family who knew of the Ruiz' workshop and they established a relationship with Minga over time.
Daniel was out today, working on a minga (a community work project), so his wife Marlena met us at the door, a sweet, shy young woman of 33 years. She wanted to know why we were there, as Minga had never sent anyone to interview them before. We explained that it was a new project and that Minga was hoping to help her sell more product by using their story in marketing materials. We hope that, too, we told her.
She warmed up a lot after that, realizing, I think, that they were not in trouble, but just the opposite. She yearns for her three daughters to have good lives, and to that end, she and her husband work very hard making and selling sweaters for other children. Marlena's parents taught her to make sweaters at age 5. She married at 17, which she says shyly, "was young." She and her husband started in the trade when they married sixteen years ago. She likes designing and she also tells us, she likes "working day and night." We checked to be sure we had heard correctly. She said that right now they have a lot of orders (March is generally a busy month for fair trade producers, because that is when most of the fair trade companies order production for the Christmas season), and they sometimes work until 3 a.m. When they have a lot of orders, they engage their families to help them. When they have few, they help their families with orders.
They started with plain and striped sweaters, which are easier. Now they make a lot of complicated designs. They both like to make new designs, and in this copycat culture, that's a very good thing. It takes two days to produce a sample of a sweater in one of the new designs, and once we have seen the process, we understand why. Although the five or six parts of the sweater are made on knitting machines, they are made one by one. The design is graphed square by square in the correct colors to make the pattern. This means that every row has a different pattern of colors, and each one of the knitting hooks is counted and the yarn changed at various spots. Then the pieces are crocheted together, then with a crochet hook, they edge the bottom with scallops, the pocket opening and the outlines of the designs. In a fascinating way, the pocket is actually woven into the front of the sweater. Then the zipper and any buttons or ties are added. Marlena says that once they have made a number of the new designs it can go quicker, but still the process is incredibly labor-intensive and detailed.
She says their sweaters are made with "cariño"--love. She hopes they can sell more, so that she can take good care of her children with the extra work. I vow to sell as many as I can next Christmas.
We went back to Ilumán for lunch and afterwards met Romel to visit Joaquin and Anita de la Torre around 4 p.m. We arrived just before their four sons returned from school. Joaquin, 41, and Anita, 34, seem very content with their work. Joaquin loves the colors, loves to combine them into a pattern on the knitting machines. Anita loves the finishing, and she demonstrates finishing a sweater as we talk. It comes together like a butterfly unfolding its wings for the first time. It is just incredible to watch her hands fly while she chats and jokes with her husband.
Joaquin likes to design because he has a lot of imagination. He just finished a design with a dog on it. He says it is not the same drawing the design on paper and executing it. Each stitch in each row has to be counted. He says it's hard now to get the materials, as most of the factories don't want to make the 50% cotton/50% wool yarn their customers require. They have to special order everything. This sheds light on our morning's visit with Marlena, who says sometimes the yarn orders take longer to arrive than expected, then they have to work hard to catch up to the orders.
He also said that the factories now demand payment in advance. This was hard for them to afford, especially as orders increased. Minga is now helping them by paying the deposit for the yarn and deducting the cost of the yarn from the invoice for the finished sweaters. Right now they have a big order from Minga due in June and they are concentrating on that, not seeking orders from anyone else until this is finished. He says it is too complicated to be working on two sweater designs at once.
When they speak of the future, it is with both hope and worry. Anita says she hopes that all their kids can finish high school or college so they can have better jobs and have more life choices. Joaquin says he hopes this job never ends, as they don't know how to do any other jobs, having little education themselves. Anita started working on sweaters with her parents at age 4. Joaquin appeals to our customers, "Please buy more sweaters, as we don't have any other work and need to have money to help our families." It's not a begging or a plea for sympathy--it's the simple truth.
We leave their home wanting to help as much as we can these kind people who work so hard, sometimes till 3 a.m., just to feed themselves and their children. Surely we can find a way to sell more of them this year. Anyone for a kids' sweater house party?
We have two appointments with artisans today, one in Ilumán, where we are staying, in the afternoon, and one in the morning in Carabuela, only two miles away. Both artisan families are making children's sweaters. We took the bus to Otavalo to meet Romel, the country rep here and then took the bus with him to Carabuela (nearly returning from where we came in the process). We crossed a giant steel overpass to get from the bus to the town across the busy divided highway. There in the middle was an inexplicable mystery. A broken (clean) toilet lay in the walkway. Romel and I had the same thought--that they had been carrying it to install in a house in the little town, dropped it and broken it and had seen no point in carrying the heavy thing any further, now that it was useless. Vincent said, "No, someone just left it behind." Alternatively, perhaps they planned to return and bombard trucks on the highway.
As we walked to the Ruiz' family home, Romel told us the history of their workshop. They had worked with another artisan family for a number of years. They were responsible for creating the designs for all the workers in that other shop. At one point, the owner of the other workshop sold or gave away all their sweater designs to other artisans. They broke away from that group and started selling their own designs themselves. They sell in the market in Otavalo on Saturdays, mostly animal hats, and most of their sweaters to Minga Imports.
Romel found them in Carabuela in 2012, a town which is known for making sweaters, by going from house to house looking for artisans who wanted to make children's sweaters. He eventually found one family who knew of the Ruiz' workshop and they established a relationship with Minga over time.
Daniel was out today, working on a minga (a community work project), so his wife Marlena met us at the door, a sweet, shy young woman of 33 years. She wanted to know why we were there, as Minga had never sent anyone to interview them before. We explained that it was a new project and that Minga was hoping to help her sell more product by using their story in marketing materials. We hope that, too, we told her.
She warmed up a lot after that, realizing, I think, that they were not in trouble, but just the opposite. She yearns for her three daughters to have good lives, and to that end, she and her husband work very hard making and selling sweaters for other children. Marlena's parents taught her to make sweaters at age 5. She married at 17, which she says shyly, "was young." She and her husband started in the trade when they married sixteen years ago. She likes designing and she also tells us, she likes "working day and night." We checked to be sure we had heard correctly. She said that right now they have a lot of orders (March is generally a busy month for fair trade producers, because that is when most of the fair trade companies order production for the Christmas season), and they sometimes work until 3 a.m. When they have a lot of orders, they engage their families to help them. When they have few, they help their families with orders.
They started with plain and striped sweaters, which are easier. Now they make a lot of complicated designs. They both like to make new designs, and in this copycat culture, that's a very good thing. It takes two days to produce a sample of a sweater in one of the new designs, and once we have seen the process, we understand why. Although the five or six parts of the sweater are made on knitting machines, they are made one by one. The design is graphed square by square in the correct colors to make the pattern. This means that every row has a different pattern of colors, and each one of the knitting hooks is counted and the yarn changed at various spots. Then the pieces are crocheted together, then with a crochet hook, they edge the bottom with scallops, the pocket opening and the outlines of the designs. In a fascinating way, the pocket is actually woven into the front of the sweater. Then the zipper and any buttons or ties are added. Marlena says that once they have made a number of the new designs it can go quicker, but still the process is incredibly labor-intensive and detailed.
She says their sweaters are made with "cariño"--love. She hopes they can sell more, so that she can take good care of her children with the extra work. I vow to sell as many as I can next Christmas.
We went back to Ilumán for lunch and afterwards met Romel to visit Joaquin and Anita de la Torre around 4 p.m. We arrived just before their four sons returned from school. Joaquin, 41, and Anita, 34, seem very content with their work. Joaquin loves the colors, loves to combine them into a pattern on the knitting machines. Anita loves the finishing, and she demonstrates finishing a sweater as we talk. It comes together like a butterfly unfolding its wings for the first time. It is just incredible to watch her hands fly while she chats and jokes with her husband.
Joaquin likes to design because he has a lot of imagination. He just finished a design with a dog on it. He says it is not the same drawing the design on paper and executing it. Each stitch in each row has to be counted. He says it's hard now to get the materials, as most of the factories don't want to make the 50% cotton/50% wool yarn their customers require. They have to special order everything. This sheds light on our morning's visit with Marlena, who says sometimes the yarn orders take longer to arrive than expected, then they have to work hard to catch up to the orders.
He also said that the factories now demand payment in advance. This was hard for them to afford, especially as orders increased. Minga is now helping them by paying the deposit for the yarn and deducting the cost of the yarn from the invoice for the finished sweaters. Right now they have a big order from Minga due in June and they are concentrating on that, not seeking orders from anyone else until this is finished. He says it is too complicated to be working on two sweater designs at once.
When they speak of the future, it is with both hope and worry. Anita says she hopes that all their kids can finish high school or college so they can have better jobs and have more life choices. Joaquin says he hopes this job never ends, as they don't know how to do any other jobs, having little education themselves. Anita started working on sweaters with her parents at age 4. Joaquin appeals to our customers, "Please buy more sweaters, as we don't have any other work and need to have money to help our families." It's not a begging or a plea for sympathy--it's the simple truth.
We leave their home wanting to help as much as we can these kind people who work so hard, sometimes till 3 a.m., just to feed themselves and their children. Surely we can find a way to sell more of them this year. Anyone for a kids' sweater house party?
Thursday, March 5, 2015 Cotacachi Cameo
This morning as we were getting ready to catch the bus to Otavalo, our host's mother, Zoila, asked if we wanted a ride. We said yes and piled with alacrity into the car which Carlos was driving. We met another guest of the family, this time from Lithuania rather than France. Her name is Vilia and she looks to be very young--twenties or thirties at most.
From Otavalo, we climbed into a full bus headed for Cotacachi, where Cristhian Guaján, a leather maker, works. The trip took 45 minutes, although it is only 8 miles, and we arrived early because we wanted to explore the town. About 9,000 people call this lovely little town home. It's clean, pretty, higher than many of the other towns, "tranquilo" (Cristhian's description) and very appealing. Everyone was very friendly and helpful in getting us to the center of town where there is a big church in the central plaza. We called Cristhian to say that we were there, and he met us on the church steps and walked us to his home and workshop. He and his wife and sister were in that day, all of them work in the shop.
They were very welcoming and very patient as they showed us around and answered many, many questions from us. When we asked if they had questions for us, Cristhian wanted to know why we were here, doing these interviews, volunteering our time to find out more about their lives. When I explained we wanted to help them better their lives, he was very impressed. He said, "That is unique. Many people buy things but don't know anything about the sacrifices made to do the work. It is unique that you want to listen to us."
Cristhian is 29 and Johanna is 30. They've only been working for five years, three of them for Minga Fair Trade. He met Chris Keefe in the market here in 2012. Already, they have three helpers in this busy workshop, with more available when the orders are large. We were astonished at how many pieces go into a wallet (their best selling product)! He pulled out the template for one wallet and there were nearly a dozen pieces to it, not including the lining. He cut the pieces with an X-acto knife, then showed us how they were sewn together and stitched at the edges to prevent fraying.
March is a busy month--right now they have so many orders they work day and night--sometimes all night and drawing in their mothers and aunts as well. Cotacachi is a big center of leather production, and nearly every shop has leather goods. We wonder how all this works, but Cristhian says people know to come to Cotacachi for leather, so there's work for all. An interesting fact, given our northern desire to limit competition as much as possible.
Cristhian and Johanna have two little booths in the Parque San Francisco. When we arrived, we found Johanna's sister and aunt there watching things for them. It's a sweet little market under the flowering trees, with birdsong and not much traffic noise. The sun filters through the trees, the volcano makes frequent brief appearances above the clouds, and it's just about a perfect place in our opinion. Someone said to us that people from Otavalo find it so tranquil that they compare a stay here to a stint in jail. But for us, this is great.
We see that the market is open from 7 a.m. till night, and Johanna puts all her stock in a big cart and pulls it to the market. She packs it the night before, unpacks it to be ready by 8 a.m., sells all day until nearly 10 p.m., packs up what's left and pulls it home in the cart. We are reminded of our own work in the U.S., except that her hours are much longer than ours. We asks if she has a day off, and she says no, the market is open 365 days a year. Wow! They have two small boys, 8 and 6. Cristhian says the sales at the booth are not much--just enough for daily bread. The export sales cover their other needs. He hopes that someday, his work will be known all over the world, not only for his sake but for that of the young men working for him.
We take family photos before leaving and promise to send them. They give us their e-mail and invite us to visit them any time. As we catch the bus back to Otavalo, we are suffused with good feeling and a sense of wonder. Here, thousands of miles away are our younger brothers and sisters. We're so happy we came.
Tonight, I received a huge gift from my Feminine Power Mastery teachers--learning how to love myself, as it so happens, I am much better able to love others. Thank God for the possibility of growth, no matter what my age.
From Otavalo, we climbed into a full bus headed for Cotacachi, where Cristhian Guaján, a leather maker, works. The trip took 45 minutes, although it is only 8 miles, and we arrived early because we wanted to explore the town. About 9,000 people call this lovely little town home. It's clean, pretty, higher than many of the other towns, "tranquilo" (Cristhian's description) and very appealing. Everyone was very friendly and helpful in getting us to the center of town where there is a big church in the central plaza. We called Cristhian to say that we were there, and he met us on the church steps and walked us to his home and workshop. He and his wife and sister were in that day, all of them work in the shop.
They were very welcoming and very patient as they showed us around and answered many, many questions from us. When we asked if they had questions for us, Cristhian wanted to know why we were here, doing these interviews, volunteering our time to find out more about their lives. When I explained we wanted to help them better their lives, he was very impressed. He said, "That is unique. Many people buy things but don't know anything about the sacrifices made to do the work. It is unique that you want to listen to us."
Cristhian is 29 and Johanna is 30. They've only been working for five years, three of them for Minga Fair Trade. He met Chris Keefe in the market here in 2012. Already, they have three helpers in this busy workshop, with more available when the orders are large. We were astonished at how many pieces go into a wallet (their best selling product)! He pulled out the template for one wallet and there were nearly a dozen pieces to it, not including the lining. He cut the pieces with an X-acto knife, then showed us how they were sewn together and stitched at the edges to prevent fraying.
March is a busy month--right now they have so many orders they work day and night--sometimes all night and drawing in their mothers and aunts as well. Cotacachi is a big center of leather production, and nearly every shop has leather goods. We wonder how all this works, but Cristhian says people know to come to Cotacachi for leather, so there's work for all. An interesting fact, given our northern desire to limit competition as much as possible.
Cristhian and Johanna have two little booths in the Parque San Francisco. When we arrived, we found Johanna's sister and aunt there watching things for them. It's a sweet little market under the flowering trees, with birdsong and not much traffic noise. The sun filters through the trees, the volcano makes frequent brief appearances above the clouds, and it's just about a perfect place in our opinion. Someone said to us that people from Otavalo find it so tranquil that they compare a stay here to a stint in jail. But for us, this is great.
We see that the market is open from 7 a.m. till night, and Johanna puts all her stock in a big cart and pulls it to the market. She packs it the night before, unpacks it to be ready by 8 a.m., sells all day until nearly 10 p.m., packs up what's left and pulls it home in the cart. We are reminded of our own work in the U.S., except that her hours are much longer than ours. We asks if she has a day off, and she says no, the market is open 365 days a year. Wow! They have two small boys, 8 and 6. Cristhian says the sales at the booth are not much--just enough for daily bread. The export sales cover their other needs. He hopes that someday, his work will be known all over the world, not only for his sake but for that of the young men working for him.
We take family photos before leaving and promise to send them. They give us their e-mail and invite us to visit them any time. As we catch the bus back to Otavalo, we are suffused with good feeling and a sense of wonder. Here, thousands of miles away are our younger brothers and sisters. We're so happy we came.
Tonight, I received a huge gift from my Feminine Power Mastery teachers--learning how to love myself, as it so happens, I am much better able to love others. Thank God for the possibility of growth, no matter what my age.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015 Chilling Out in Otavalo
Wednesday is Skype with Minga day--also a day to write up reports, at least in the morning. In the afternoon we encountered a typically South American phenomenon--the slippage of the gears of time. We arrived for our appointment to interview the country rep here and discovered they were not home! They had been invited to a friend's house for lunch and it had run overtime.
Our host apologized when he arrived twenty minutes later, and again when two artisans arrived simultaneously with our entering the front door. This was the precious, precious couple who make the sweaters for dogs. They had brought a sample sweater and a whole bunch of adorable animal ornaments, knitted in bright colors and whimsical designs. One of them was something like a cow and something like a dog. I asked what it was, and they said a bear! When I looked puzzled, they explained it was a panda bear. That made sense of the black and white. When we asked them how they had gotten the idea of a panda, Luis replied, "From my imagination." He has quite an imagination! So we Googled pandas for him to see.
They had come to Romel to ask a question about their order. Spanish is not their first language--neither is it the first language of the person who sent the order. So Romel said I could help them all figure it out, because my first language is not Spanish, either. That's not the way he said it, actually--he said because I wasn't good at Spanish, and neither was the sender of the order, I would be able to understand the bad Spanish. I had to laugh. I did figure it out, though, with the help of a second e-mail which had been sent to clarify the first.
Afterwards, we interviewed Romel for three hours, until he said his head might explode, then returned via bus to our host family in Ilumán. This was a long day with a lot of brain gymnastics. It was so wonderful to see Luis and Maria getting ready to send their first order to the U.S. They are so eager, making samples as requested as quickly as they can. I am glad we can help them, as are they, I'm sure.
We're gradually beginning to understand some of the difficulties in communication, as Romel shared with us that he "doesn't have the gringo mind." We are digesting that information, wondering if we know all of what it means. For sure, things are more fluid down here--we schedule an interview and something else precludes or delays it. Everything from the driving to the daily routines seems to direct us (and everyone else) to go with the flow. Albert said (in the midst of a very heavy unexpected traffic jam) you just have to be "tranquilo." A not uncommon phrase when we are apologizing for something is "No te preocupes"--don't worry about it. In the U.S., we might be very worried indeed, but here, it's not something to disturb anyone's peace.
I personally can learn a lot from this typically Ecuadorean attitude.
Our host apologized when he arrived twenty minutes later, and again when two artisans arrived simultaneously with our entering the front door. This was the precious, precious couple who make the sweaters for dogs. They had brought a sample sweater and a whole bunch of adorable animal ornaments, knitted in bright colors and whimsical designs. One of them was something like a cow and something like a dog. I asked what it was, and they said a bear! When I looked puzzled, they explained it was a panda bear. That made sense of the black and white. When we asked them how they had gotten the idea of a panda, Luis replied, "From my imagination." He has quite an imagination! So we Googled pandas for him to see.
They had come to Romel to ask a question about their order. Spanish is not their first language--neither is it the first language of the person who sent the order. So Romel said I could help them all figure it out, because my first language is not Spanish, either. That's not the way he said it, actually--he said because I wasn't good at Spanish, and neither was the sender of the order, I would be able to understand the bad Spanish. I had to laugh. I did figure it out, though, with the help of a second e-mail which had been sent to clarify the first.
Afterwards, we interviewed Romel for three hours, until he said his head might explode, then returned via bus to our host family in Ilumán. This was a long day with a lot of brain gymnastics. It was so wonderful to see Luis and Maria getting ready to send their first order to the U.S. They are so eager, making samples as requested as quickly as they can. I am glad we can help them, as are they, I'm sure.
We're gradually beginning to understand some of the difficulties in communication, as Romel shared with us that he "doesn't have the gringo mind." We are digesting that information, wondering if we know all of what it means. For sure, things are more fluid down here--we schedule an interview and something else precludes or delays it. Everything from the driving to the daily routines seems to direct us (and everyone else) to go with the flow. Albert said (in the midst of a very heavy unexpected traffic jam) you just have to be "tranquilo." A not uncommon phrase when we are apologizing for something is "No te preocupes"--don't worry about it. In the U.S., we might be very worried indeed, but here, it's not something to disturb anyone's peace.
I personally can learn a lot from this typically Ecuadorean attitude.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Tuesday, March 3, 2015 Compelled by Compassion
This morning we traveled with Minga's country rep to Martha Constante's house in Ibarra. When her husband retired thirty years ago from the police force, she set up her business making hand knit sweaters in her home. There are now hundreds of women who have benefited from this decision. She says she keeps thinking about retiring, but the same thing keeps her working that got her started--the women in financial need who come to her door begging for work.
They have two daughters, one of whom works with her mother in the business. Anita's degree is in engineering. They joke that she is an engineer in an international business (Martha exports to many countries in Europe and to Japan as well as the domestic and South American market. The other, Aleja, is still in school. I found myself liking this woman more and more as she described the many challenges they face--the government taxes any yarn that is made from fibers that are not natural, and then they add insult to injury by buying up all the yarn available in Ecuador and exporting it to China, according to Martha. There is also the matter of copyright. Ecuador has no copyright laws. Their designs are always being copied, and they then have to create another sweater. They make about 30 new designs per year. Materials are triple what they were 30 years ago, but they can't raise their prices that much or they'd be priced out of the market. Sometimes the profit they make on a sweater is so small, they can't do more than pay the artisans.
Martha is an organizing genius. She has a file of 1,500 names of women who have knitted in their homes in remote villages for her. (The business started with only three knitters). She wants to give as much work to as many people as she can. When orders are low, she breaks them into very small lots so that each woman can have something to eat. She has a book with everyone's name in it, how much material they have been given, what the completion date is to be, pickup date, and how much the finished sweaters weighed, as well as the number of sweaters made and the payment for each one. It is big, fat, and hand-written.
She brings the materials to each village to the supervisor she has trained, shows the supervisor how to make the design, and the supervisor takes care of getting materials to the women in her village, quality control of the finished work, and collecting them for Martha and her daughter (they both drive out to the different villages in different cars, to cover as much area as possible.) They bring them back to their home where Martha and one other woman take care of all the finishing--zippers, buttons, tags, etc.
The day we were there, a tiny woman, Guillermina, who Martha says is her oldest and shortest worker and her friend because she has worked with her the longest, brought her finished sweaters in to be weighed (they have learned to weigh the wool when they drop it off and again when the sweaters return, to avoid supplying materials which don't get knitted into sweaters for them). About three feet high, Guillermina sparkled, which is the only conceivable word to describe her. She has to be in her seventies!
Martha is really serious about giving work to women in need. She prefaces everything by saying, "This is not for my sake--this is for the women." Sometimes she doesn't have enough money for gas to get out to the villages to deliver materials and pick up sweaters. This is a big challenge for her to keep the business going.
In addition to providing work for women in need, Martha and her daughter rescue stray or injured dogs. Martha has 20 of them on her property. They are well cared for, and she tries to find homes for them all, but she cannot bear to leave them in the sorry state they were in when she found them. One little darling followed us up and downstairs. She was not in the big pens, Martha said, because she was smaller than all the others and she was afraid they would pick on her.
She has such a big heart that she can't bear to see anyone in need. In spite of the many and difficult hurdles she must get over every day, her motto and watchword is "siempre adelante." Always forward. Anita remarks that her mother is quite "terca"--stubborn, and can hardly be coaxed to rest. This occasioned a discussion about taking care of yourself as well as others so that you can continue to care for others. She knows this, but it's hard when so much need arrives on her doorstep, ringing the bell. She intends to go on doing this work as long as possible because it is so important.
When we asked for advice she would give to anyone starting a business like hers, she says you have to love the women. The challenges are huge, but the rewards are just as great when you can help them succeed in life and care for their families.
Her husband, Jorje, is in his seventies. He drove us (in a mildly terrifying fashion) up to the big lake behind Ibarra, to the new park built from the old airstrip and back to the city center for lunch. He is as cheerful and as generous as Martha. Although Martha is younger than I am, I found her very inspiring. It's important not to quit in this work, not to stop trying to make a difference. Yes, it is hard, but it is making a difference for so many people, for whom the extra few dollars mean survival. I'm inspired to keep pushing forward. You never know, you see, if you quit, whether you would have succeeded if you had just kept on for one more day. Siempre adelante, mis amigos, siempre adelante.
They have two daughters, one of whom works with her mother in the business. Anita's degree is in engineering. They joke that she is an engineer in an international business (Martha exports to many countries in Europe and to Japan as well as the domestic and South American market. The other, Aleja, is still in school. I found myself liking this woman more and more as she described the many challenges they face--the government taxes any yarn that is made from fibers that are not natural, and then they add insult to injury by buying up all the yarn available in Ecuador and exporting it to China, according to Martha. There is also the matter of copyright. Ecuador has no copyright laws. Their designs are always being copied, and they then have to create another sweater. They make about 30 new designs per year. Materials are triple what they were 30 years ago, but they can't raise their prices that much or they'd be priced out of the market. Sometimes the profit they make on a sweater is so small, they can't do more than pay the artisans.
Martha is an organizing genius. She has a file of 1,500 names of women who have knitted in their homes in remote villages for her. (The business started with only three knitters). She wants to give as much work to as many people as she can. When orders are low, she breaks them into very small lots so that each woman can have something to eat. She has a book with everyone's name in it, how much material they have been given, what the completion date is to be, pickup date, and how much the finished sweaters weighed, as well as the number of sweaters made and the payment for each one. It is big, fat, and hand-written.
She brings the materials to each village to the supervisor she has trained, shows the supervisor how to make the design, and the supervisor takes care of getting materials to the women in her village, quality control of the finished work, and collecting them for Martha and her daughter (they both drive out to the different villages in different cars, to cover as much area as possible.) They bring them back to their home where Martha and one other woman take care of all the finishing--zippers, buttons, tags, etc.
The day we were there, a tiny woman, Guillermina, who Martha says is her oldest and shortest worker and her friend because she has worked with her the longest, brought her finished sweaters in to be weighed (they have learned to weigh the wool when they drop it off and again when the sweaters return, to avoid supplying materials which don't get knitted into sweaters for them). About three feet high, Guillermina sparkled, which is the only conceivable word to describe her. She has to be in her seventies!
Martha is really serious about giving work to women in need. She prefaces everything by saying, "This is not for my sake--this is for the women." Sometimes she doesn't have enough money for gas to get out to the villages to deliver materials and pick up sweaters. This is a big challenge for her to keep the business going.
In addition to providing work for women in need, Martha and her daughter rescue stray or injured dogs. Martha has 20 of them on her property. They are well cared for, and she tries to find homes for them all, but she cannot bear to leave them in the sorry state they were in when she found them. One little darling followed us up and downstairs. She was not in the big pens, Martha said, because she was smaller than all the others and she was afraid they would pick on her.
She has such a big heart that she can't bear to see anyone in need. In spite of the many and difficult hurdles she must get over every day, her motto and watchword is "siempre adelante." Always forward. Anita remarks that her mother is quite "terca"--stubborn, and can hardly be coaxed to rest. This occasioned a discussion about taking care of yourself as well as others so that you can continue to care for others. She knows this, but it's hard when so much need arrives on her doorstep, ringing the bell. She intends to go on doing this work as long as possible because it is so important.
When we asked for advice she would give to anyone starting a business like hers, she says you have to love the women. The challenges are huge, but the rewards are just as great when you can help them succeed in life and care for their families.
Her husband, Jorje, is in his seventies. He drove us (in a mildly terrifying fashion) up to the big lake behind Ibarra, to the new park built from the old airstrip and back to the city center for lunch. He is as cheerful and as generous as Martha. Although Martha is younger than I am, I found her very inspiring. It's important not to quit in this work, not to stop trying to make a difference. Yes, it is hard, but it is making a difference for so many people, for whom the extra few dollars mean survival. I'm inspired to keep pushing forward. You never know, you see, if you quit, whether you would have succeeded if you had just kept on for one more day. Siempre adelante, mis amigos, siempre adelante.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
Monday, March 2, 2015 The Magical Art of Tie-Dye
What a wonderful day we've had. We returned to Peguche first thing in the morning to view the tie-dye process at Carlos Pastillo's workshop. Carlos and William, one of his workers for the past thirteen years, were ready for us. Carlos was a bit disappointed, because he had a large order to dye and only one helper had showed up, the other two sleeping in for some reason. However, he and William kindly demonstrated the cold-water dye process and the hot-water one as well. We were totally fascinated with the demonstration.
We had no idea how heavy the work is in tie-dye. They fill a 40-50 gal. metal tub with water and 50 pairs of pants (their most popular product). It weighs a ton! The water comes directly from the Peguche waterfall, which is a couple of miles away. They have a cistern in the ground to catch it. The water is heated by natural gas, which comes in cylinders. The gas becomes frozen (as any camper can tell you) when a good portion of it has been burned, so they dip it in the tubs to thaw it out. We needn't have worried, but it was a strange sight to see that gas cylinder bobbing in the boiling water.
The first step is to remove the gummy substance coating the fabric by boiling it for ten minutes. The fabric then turns white instead of sand color. There are about seven big tubs which they fill near to the top with a hose from the cistern and begin to heat the water to boiling. When the pants are completely white, it's time to empty the water, which takes tremendous strength. The full tub is so heavy they can't lift it very far, so they put it on its side on the cement floor and let the water run out and into the drain. The use their rubber-booted feet inside a big laundry tub of cold water to rinse the boiled pants. Then they pour the water out, wring the pants very tightly by hand and begin to fold and then tie the folds very tightly. It takes a lot of force to tie them so tight, (their arms look like brown steel) and a memory for what the tying pattern produces when it's unfolded that is remarkable in the extreme. Even so, Carlos noted that there is always some unexpected thing that has happened with the tying, so no two designs are the same.
They know exactly how many spoons of which color to mix to get the exact shade desired. Then with the cold water process, they add salt to the dye and paint the folds with a regular 3-inch paintbrush. They made two beautiful sarongs or "kangas" in this way by painting several colors on each side of the flattened circular bundle they had tied. It was like watching a magician to see them open the dyed fabric! He noted that with the cold-water process, that although the salt helps, the pieces have to be dried in the sunlight in order to fix the dyes.
With the hot-water process, they fill the tubs again with clean water and the mixed dye, then fold and tie the pants one by one. There are about fifty patterns of tying they know by heart, some of which have names, like "disastre," "churro," "rayas," and "chinguas." After about ten minutes in the boiling water, the dye is permanent. They take the pants out that they've dyed, untie them and retie them in another pattern and boil them in another color for ten minutes. In this way they can use about fourteen colors at once. When they are taken out and untied, they have shrunk (that's the reason they are cut two sizes too large). They are then dipped in a fixative solution containing salt and a commercial fixative. The pants are wrung when they are taken out of the second dye bath, and we could see the color coming out with the water. But after they've been in the fixative, the water comes out clear. When they are fully opened and hung to dry, it was jaw-dropping to see the beautiful and intricate patterns created. It was like science magic.
When they're dry, Sulema irons them. Then each pair of pants is stamped with a bleach solution to make white patterns on front and back. The stamps are made of molded white rubber and usually have some type of Galapagos animal on them. There are also stylized suns, geometric patterns and other designs they create--about 30 stamps that we saw. The finished pieces are hung for the bleach to dry and then they're packed in big bunches and delivered for export. We had no words to express our awe at the amount of labor, water, and natural gas that this process takes.
Carlos noted that the government wants to encourage the use of electricity, because it's cheaper, so they are planning to raise the cost of a canister of gas from the current price, $2, up to $25. This would likely put him out of business. He's worried, but, "¿Que haces?" What can you do?
Carlos' hope is that his art (and it is exactly that) can get well-known in countries all around the world, so that he can take good care of their children and his workers can get ahead, too.
We decided when the process was complete that we would wait for Saya to come home from school so we could take her picture. We walked about the town of Peguche and visited a store called "El Gran Condor." This beautiful shop is part museum. As soon as we walked in, the receptionist asked if we would like to see the traditional weaving process, including carding, spinning and dyeing the wool. Of course we did, so she demonstrated all the different parts of that process. The shop is a cooperative of about 15 families, and the quality was so much higher than anything we've seen--anywhere--that we were again astounded. For that quality of weaving and finishing, we would have expected to pay twice as much in the U.S. or Ireland.
Returning to the Pastillos' house, we worked a bit on reporting the morning's work and Saya returned. We added her photos to a slideshow (complete with Andean music) Vincent had created while I typed up the report of our visit. They were able to download it onto their computer. They seemed just as fascinated with that process as we had been with the dyeing, and thrilled to have that record of their work and their family. We were just as thrilled as they were.
It is just astonishing how many different gifts and talents there are in the world, and how amazing it seems to us when we share them. Don't miss the pictures--they are out of this world.
We are going everywhere in the buses now, the only gringos on board, ever. The cost is 25 cents each, and the buses are clean. They only really get crowded at four to five in the afternoon, when the kids are getting out of school. It's quite a neat system!
Friday, March 6, 2015
Sunday, March 1, 2015 Old Dogs Can Learn New Tricks
Today is laundry day, among other things. We spent most of the day typing up reports and writing up interviews. In the morning, something happened that helped me understand many of the failures I have experienced in a new light. I feel hopeful that change can happen, now that I see the pattern. It is one common to many women, as we have been taught to ignore our own needs and take care of others'. This doesn't work very well, as the compassion necessary to take care of others comes from the felt recognition of our own needs. I'm committed to changing that pattern in my own life and helping others change it (if they wish) in theirs.
So many of the people we have interviewed this week have shown me how beautiful life can be, even in the face of poverty, when there is hope. What a gift this is, this hope that blossoms from mud and ordure! The fact that change can come, even so late in one's life, is powerfully inspiring. Perhaps there are still things I can contribute, still gifts I can give. There is a wide space opening out to me. I am grateful. And if failure and pain was what it took to get me here, they are worth it.
So many of the people we have interviewed this week have shown me how beautiful life can be, even in the face of poverty, when there is hope. What a gift this is, this hope that blossoms from mud and ordure! The fact that change can come, even so late in one's life, is powerfully inspiring. Perhaps there are still things I can contribute, still gifts I can give. There is a wide space opening out to me. I am grateful. And if failure and pain was what it took to get me here, they are worth it.
Saturday, Feb. 28, 2015 To Market, To Market. . .
Today we took our first bus ride (by ourselves) in Ecuador. Pretty easy. Every time we ride the bus, we are the only gringos on it. By the way, "gringos" here is not pejorative in the way it would be closer to home. It merely means "white people." Our destination--the famous Saturday market in the Plaza de los Ponchos in Otavalo. It is billed as the largest indigenous market in South America, although I don't know if that's true. Certainly one city block is filled with stalls, and all four surrounding streets away from the square for at least two blocks and some of them more.
Our first stop was to talk a little bit to José Cuaical. José lives in Tulcan near the Colombian border. He's a stonecarver. We found him to be of a very gentle spirit. One type of help he needs is buying tools for his stone-cutting. Blades for the cutter, for example, are non-existent in Ecuador. He hopes that he can get help in acquiring what he needs for his workshop.
We spent five hours going from booth to booth, looking for unusual items that we think might be attractive in the U.S. We got a lot more than we bargained for. We met some very interesting people and made connections with an older couple whose three children were born in the U.S. and thus live in Chicago. We also met El Tigre. The reason for his unusual nickname is that he is one of four or five "Rafael"s in his family--himself, his son and grandson and various cousins and nephews. So he picked that name and has been marketing his ponchos, hats and gloves under that name--for 45 years in this market. He is a teacher of weaving for the past 25 years, and his whole family is involved now in the weaving business. They weave on the traditional wooden looms and even do some backstrap weaving, which has all but disappeared in Ecuador, we've been told. He also taught the indigenous language--Kichwa or Qichua--for five years in Brazil. He has been keeping a notebook for years which he gladly pulled out to show us--even a newspaper article about his longevity in the market. He was a charming fellow and allowed us to take photos of his designs to see if Minga would like them. We wished him good luck as we parted. I was very impressed by his pride in his heritage and knowledge, and also his cheerful determination to continue on until he had to stop--he's 79.
It is such a hard life here, making crafts for the market--there is so much competition and so few truly unique designs, as most of them copy whatever they see in the market. There is one whole block devoted mostly to friendship bracelets. Then the customers bargain and bargain until there is hardly any profit left. We watched one couple at José's booth give him such a hard time about prices, which were quite reasonable. Finally they left without buying anything. I felt sad that people who work so hard and travel so far get such poor treatment, and ashamed that this couple was American. They obviously planned to sell the stones for a higher price in America, and they wanted them dirt cheap.
The whole world of commerce sometimes seems to me to be heartless. What do people really need? Food, shelter, clothing, friendship, medicine, an honorable occupation. So much of our time in this world seems to be about getting the lowest price, gaining the most money, which is then spent on frivolity, or worse, invested in schemes to make more money and have a bigger pile of it than the next guy. People here are so hopeful that they can sell their art and crafts and be able to feed, clothe and educate their children. I hope with all my heart that they can, and I work for that, too. But it is a very small corner of the big market which seems almost demonic in its impersonal grinding of everything and everyone to the lowest common denominator--the dollar. Ah me, I need to spend some time in quiet, I'm not usually this gloomy.
Sometimes though, the task of helping people do well seems almost impossible. Then I remember what my friend Loreta Rafisura said--"Every day, I pray. Then I do what's before me. The rest is up to God." That is the way I need to walk in. Everything else is fantasy.
Our first stop was to talk a little bit to José Cuaical. José lives in Tulcan near the Colombian border. He's a stonecarver. We found him to be of a very gentle spirit. One type of help he needs is buying tools for his stone-cutting. Blades for the cutter, for example, are non-existent in Ecuador. He hopes that he can get help in acquiring what he needs for his workshop.
We spent five hours going from booth to booth, looking for unusual items that we think might be attractive in the U.S. We got a lot more than we bargained for. We met some very interesting people and made connections with an older couple whose three children were born in the U.S. and thus live in Chicago. We also met El Tigre. The reason for his unusual nickname is that he is one of four or five "Rafael"s in his family--himself, his son and grandson and various cousins and nephews. So he picked that name and has been marketing his ponchos, hats and gloves under that name--for 45 years in this market. He is a teacher of weaving for the past 25 years, and his whole family is involved now in the weaving business. They weave on the traditional wooden looms and even do some backstrap weaving, which has all but disappeared in Ecuador, we've been told. He also taught the indigenous language--Kichwa or Qichua--for five years in Brazil. He has been keeping a notebook for years which he gladly pulled out to show us--even a newspaper article about his longevity in the market. He was a charming fellow and allowed us to take photos of his designs to see if Minga would like them. We wished him good luck as we parted. I was very impressed by his pride in his heritage and knowledge, and also his cheerful determination to continue on until he had to stop--he's 79.
It is such a hard life here, making crafts for the market--there is so much competition and so few truly unique designs, as most of them copy whatever they see in the market. There is one whole block devoted mostly to friendship bracelets. Then the customers bargain and bargain until there is hardly any profit left. We watched one couple at José's booth give him such a hard time about prices, which were quite reasonable. Finally they left without buying anything. I felt sad that people who work so hard and travel so far get such poor treatment, and ashamed that this couple was American. They obviously planned to sell the stones for a higher price in America, and they wanted them dirt cheap.
The whole world of commerce sometimes seems to me to be heartless. What do people really need? Food, shelter, clothing, friendship, medicine, an honorable occupation. So much of our time in this world seems to be about getting the lowest price, gaining the most money, which is then spent on frivolity, or worse, invested in schemes to make more money and have a bigger pile of it than the next guy. People here are so hopeful that they can sell their art and crafts and be able to feed, clothe and educate their children. I hope with all my heart that they can, and I work for that, too. But it is a very small corner of the big market which seems almost demonic in its impersonal grinding of everything and everyone to the lowest common denominator--the dollar. Ah me, I need to spend some time in quiet, I'm not usually this gloomy.
Sometimes though, the task of helping people do well seems almost impossible. Then I remember what my friend Loreta Rafisura said--"Every day, I pray. Then I do what's before me. The rest is up to God." That is the way I need to walk in. Everything else is fantasy.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Friday, February 27, 2015 Homestay in Ilumán
We met some of our other house mates, Francis and Sonita from France. They are clients of Carlos and they buy and sell his hats very successfully at an 8-week Christmas market. They are both very friendly, kind and cheerful. Francis does not have much Spanish--French, German and a little English instead. Sonita was born on the island of Reunión in the Indian Ocean (near Madagascar, we looked it up). We looked up each other's home towns on Google Maps.
Sonita has two daughters going to school in France, the third daughter, the oldest is taking care of them--Sonita keeps up with them via Skype. One of her daughters is undergoing treatment for cancer, which is very worrisome for Sonita. I am finding it quite disconcerting to be chatting along in Spanish and have Francis or Sonita stop me and talk in English, French (of which I have not one word) or German. As I was beginning to learn Spanish, the German I learned in high school and college came to me more readily than Spanish, and now it is coming at me out of context. My brain gets stuck in "Spanish gear" and I can't think of an English or German word which I know perfectly well. It's like learning to drive a manual transmission--lurch to a halt, step on the gas, car dies. Press the starter and try again. Plus the French pronunciation throws me off. They are very patient and kind and full of humor, so we are getting along well despite the lack of a common language.
The home, living quarters and workshop are quite a lot bigger than we imagined. It seems Carlos and his mother, Zoila (SOY-la), live here with Carlos' two boys, Sebastián and Miguel. Carlos' wife died of cancer two years ago, and Zoila mothers them. Zoila's uncle started this business many, many years ago. They transported everything to market by burro! It was a very hard life. Zoila still works in the business, but Carlos is in charge. They sell to many different countries and have dozens of styles of hats they make in leather, wool and straw. They also offer hospitality to many visitors, including us. Tomorrow Carlos is going to Otavalo to ship an order to a customer in Canada. Carlos and his mother both are extremely energetic people--they run everywhere. They are very concerned that we get the proper food (I am lactose intolerant to a certain degree, and Vincent is a vegetarian). We told them they didn't have to trouble themselves, we would eat anything, but they have put together quite a menu of possibilities for us.
I spent some time on the phone and the internet today making sure our mortgage would be paid, as we haven't tried the mail service yet and don't know if we want to. It was a day of catching up with small things. We went out for a walk in the town plaza and looked for chirimoya. Unfortunately, I was remembering the wrong fruit and we got some (somewhat sour) maracuyá instead. It's an interesting fruit--to open it, you smash the rind on a wall or a table, it cracks open and you scoop out the jelly-covered seeds from the center. The taste is similar to tamarindo.
I'm thinking a lot today of family and friends back in the U.S. As we tool around the country meeting ever more new people, I am missing the old friends, the grandchildren, Elspeth. Vincent is also missing hearing English spoken. He signed up for Netflix because of it, then immediately cancelled. One thing we are NOT homesick for is snow! We are hopeful that when we return in April, we will see all of you, but no frozen water anywhere. Water is much more pleasant not frozen or boiling!
Sonita has two daughters going to school in France, the third daughter, the oldest is taking care of them--Sonita keeps up with them via Skype. One of her daughters is undergoing treatment for cancer, which is very worrisome for Sonita. I am finding it quite disconcerting to be chatting along in Spanish and have Francis or Sonita stop me and talk in English, French (of which I have not one word) or German. As I was beginning to learn Spanish, the German I learned in high school and college came to me more readily than Spanish, and now it is coming at me out of context. My brain gets stuck in "Spanish gear" and I can't think of an English or German word which I know perfectly well. It's like learning to drive a manual transmission--lurch to a halt, step on the gas, car dies. Press the starter and try again. Plus the French pronunciation throws me off. They are very patient and kind and full of humor, so we are getting along well despite the lack of a common language.
The home, living quarters and workshop are quite a lot bigger than we imagined. It seems Carlos and his mother, Zoila (SOY-la), live here with Carlos' two boys, Sebastián and Miguel. Carlos' wife died of cancer two years ago, and Zoila mothers them. Zoila's uncle started this business many, many years ago. They transported everything to market by burro! It was a very hard life. Zoila still works in the business, but Carlos is in charge. They sell to many different countries and have dozens of styles of hats they make in leather, wool and straw. They also offer hospitality to many visitors, including us. Tomorrow Carlos is going to Otavalo to ship an order to a customer in Canada. Carlos and his mother both are extremely energetic people--they run everywhere. They are very concerned that we get the proper food (I am lactose intolerant to a certain degree, and Vincent is a vegetarian). We told them they didn't have to trouble themselves, we would eat anything, but they have put together quite a menu of possibilities for us.
I spent some time on the phone and the internet today making sure our mortgage would be paid, as we haven't tried the mail service yet and don't know if we want to. It was a day of catching up with small things. We went out for a walk in the town plaza and looked for chirimoya. Unfortunately, I was remembering the wrong fruit and we got some (somewhat sour) maracuyá instead. It's an interesting fruit--to open it, you smash the rind on a wall or a table, it cracks open and you scoop out the jelly-covered seeds from the center. The taste is similar to tamarindo.
I'm thinking a lot today of family and friends back in the U.S. As we tool around the country meeting ever more new people, I am missing the old friends, the grandchildren, Elspeth. Vincent is also missing hearing English spoken. He signed up for Netflix because of it, then immediately cancelled. One thing we are NOT homesick for is snow! We are hopeful that when we return in April, we will see all of you, but no frozen water anywhere. Water is much more pleasant not frozen or boiling!
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Thursday, February 26 Heavenly
We left early this morning by car, Carlos, Vincent and I to try out the baths (hot springs) in Chachimbiro, about an hour from Peguche. The road climbs and climbs and climbs! Carlos told us that the valleys around here (and they are DEEP!) are much warmer than the hill or mountain towns. That makes sense, I guess. We ARE on the equator after all, and the closer to sea level at the equator, the more likely to have warmer weather. My uneducated guess. Carlos said this was a back road, seldom taken, but these springs get more and more popular every year. On the weekends they are jammed, so we were glad to be trying them out on a Thursday.
Carlos is absolutely full of interesting information. We learned about African settlements in the deep valleys and indigenous groups in the mountains. The baths were clean, practically deserted, and warm. We spent hours lolling about in the water and saunas and ended up with a nice, hot shower. We decided since it was only 12:20 to try for lunch at home in Peguche, so Carlos bought some chirimoyas. Now, I have to tell you I like fruit. But this fruit was like nothing I have ever tasted. Sweet, soft, juicy with a somewhat cottony texture. If chirimoya was what Eve stole, I cannot blame her one bit! Vincent agrees. Nothing like it anywhere. From the outside, it looks like an underdeveloped artichoke with unindividuated leaves pressed together to form the peel. Inside it looks a bit like white cotton candy. Mmmmmmm!
Carlos drove by where the government is building a "city of education," Yachay University. Only the most accomplished students are allowed to attend there. Although there are quite a few classroom buildings and dormitories, it is obvious this is to be a show place for the whole country. The land being developed is enormous. There are unbroken fields for a lot of it, and a whole lot of large buildings under construction. As a means of developing a country, building quality educational institutions and attracting great educators and foreign students is second only to building roads and ports. Ecuador has plans to be great. We wish Saya good luck in getting admitted there next year.
Sulema had made lunch, as Carlos had hoped, and after lunch, we had a short rest, because Vincent was tired from the soaking, the sun and the warmth. I was less tired, so at 3:30 I went downstairs to greet Sulema's mother and the other embroidery worker who came to the house to deliver the blouses they had embroidered by hand that week. The colors and patterns and the rapidity with which they demonstrated their work were dazzling and mesmerizing. We simply could not believe our eyes. Every single pattern was unique both in color and design. I guessed that they might have been bored if the designs were all the same. The women here learn as children to sew and embroider, as I did when I was five. They have developed their skills much more than I, however, and it is a delight to see how proud they are of their creations. No embroidery machines for them!
After we bade them good-bye, our new hosts came to pick us up from Ilumán, ten minutes away. We were not too sad though, because we have arranged to come back Monday to watch the tie-dying process.
Carlos is absolutely full of interesting information. We learned about African settlements in the deep valleys and indigenous groups in the mountains. The baths were clean, practically deserted, and warm. We spent hours lolling about in the water and saunas and ended up with a nice, hot shower. We decided since it was only 12:20 to try for lunch at home in Peguche, so Carlos bought some chirimoyas. Now, I have to tell you I like fruit. But this fruit was like nothing I have ever tasted. Sweet, soft, juicy with a somewhat cottony texture. If chirimoya was what Eve stole, I cannot blame her one bit! Vincent agrees. Nothing like it anywhere. From the outside, it looks like an underdeveloped artichoke with unindividuated leaves pressed together to form the peel. Inside it looks a bit like white cotton candy. Mmmmmmm!
Carlos drove by where the government is building a "city of education," Yachay University. Only the most accomplished students are allowed to attend there. Although there are quite a few classroom buildings and dormitories, it is obvious this is to be a show place for the whole country. The land being developed is enormous. There are unbroken fields for a lot of it, and a whole lot of large buildings under construction. As a means of developing a country, building quality educational institutions and attracting great educators and foreign students is second only to building roads and ports. Ecuador has plans to be great. We wish Saya good luck in getting admitted there next year.
Sulema had made lunch, as Carlos had hoped, and after lunch, we had a short rest, because Vincent was tired from the soaking, the sun and the warmth. I was less tired, so at 3:30 I went downstairs to greet Sulema's mother and the other embroidery worker who came to the house to deliver the blouses they had embroidered by hand that week. The colors and patterns and the rapidity with which they demonstrated their work were dazzling and mesmerizing. We simply could not believe our eyes. Every single pattern was unique both in color and design. I guessed that they might have been bored if the designs were all the same. The women here learn as children to sew and embroider, as I did when I was five. They have developed their skills much more than I, however, and it is a delight to see how proud they are of their creations. No embroidery machines for them!
After we bade them good-bye, our new hosts came to pick us up from Ilumán, ten minutes away. We were not too sad though, because we have arranged to come back Monday to watch the tie-dying process.
Wednesday, February 25 Stirred with a Great, Big Spoon
Vincent came in from the bathroom very early this morning with an ashen face. No, it's not Ash Wednesday. He opened the door to our room, and two wild cats leaped straight from the bed in the room next door, sailed over the wall and onto the tin roof below. He was startled out of his wits. Carlos is not very fond of these two cats, but they hang out here, draping themselves over every conceivable surface. I am guessing that the tin roof is not very hot, as I see them lolling there as relaxed as rag dolls. The four dogs don't even give them a second glance.
After breakfast this morning, we helped Carlos cut out lengths of fabric. He has a very cool machine that allows him to roll lengths of fabric back and forth on a long table, making layers and layers of fabric. He can then use a power cutter to cut out patterns for dozens and dozens of garments at once. We didn't get to see this in operation this morning, every dress was cut out one by one, because that's what this type of fabric demands. We had a good laugh over my pair of scissors, which was so dull it practically gnawed through the cloth. My mother used to say, "I could do a better job than these scissors with my teeth!" I found a Fiskars cutter online to show Carlos which he found very cool indeed.
We had a Skype conversation with Megan and the others at the home office and then had lunch. We took a lot of photos, and took a walk out toward the Peguche falls. It was too far to go before dark, but we meandered through the streets and watched the city lights come on in neighboring Otavalo. We were charmed by the little boy playing soccer in the dusk shouting to his friends to watch out for the "abuelita," -- me, the gray-haired grandmother.
After supper, Vincent showed Carlos some of Riverdance and other Irish music on YouTube, as Carlos has a keen interest in music, especially traditional Andean music. With gentle coaxing, he was persuaded to demonstrate some of his collection of instruments--the quena, zampoña, bandolin and violin. He remembered going to Europe or the U.S. with handfuls of these instruments, giving them away before returning to Ecuador to avoid having to carry them. You couldn't do that now, he relates ruefully, they're much too expensive to give away!
It was so interesting to hear traces of Asian harmonies and structures in the music which has been brought forward from pre-Colombian times. Some of the instruments, like the violin, are European. The flutes and zampoñas are indigenous. You see so much mixing of cultures in formerly colonial countries--well, any country really, as the realities of conflict and migration intrude the world over, writing and rewriting music, poetry, painting, history, fashions and even gene scripts. One person told us her father was Chinese, her mother Ecuadorean. Africans marry Colombians and move to Ecuador, their children go to university and work in the U.S.
It's such a kaleidoscopic whirl--languages, cultures, colors, birds and plants, colors and tastes of exotic fruits. Sometimes I long for a quiet space in which to contemplate it all. Peguche is a really beautiful place. I can see why Carlos and Sulema love it. A big Andean music festival just finished here before we came, the Pawki Raymi. The big names in Andean music all come, and treat everyone to world-class music. Their daughter Saya wants to go to Yachay University (brand new, a government show piece mostly still under construction on a huge piece of land) to be an engineer. I wonder where her journey will take her?
After breakfast this morning, we helped Carlos cut out lengths of fabric. He has a very cool machine that allows him to roll lengths of fabric back and forth on a long table, making layers and layers of fabric. He can then use a power cutter to cut out patterns for dozens and dozens of garments at once. We didn't get to see this in operation this morning, every dress was cut out one by one, because that's what this type of fabric demands. We had a good laugh over my pair of scissors, which was so dull it practically gnawed through the cloth. My mother used to say, "I could do a better job than these scissors with my teeth!" I found a Fiskars cutter online to show Carlos which he found very cool indeed.
We had a Skype conversation with Megan and the others at the home office and then had lunch. We took a lot of photos, and took a walk out toward the Peguche falls. It was too far to go before dark, but we meandered through the streets and watched the city lights come on in neighboring Otavalo. We were charmed by the little boy playing soccer in the dusk shouting to his friends to watch out for the "abuelita," -- me, the gray-haired grandmother.
After supper, Vincent showed Carlos some of Riverdance and other Irish music on YouTube, as Carlos has a keen interest in music, especially traditional Andean music. With gentle coaxing, he was persuaded to demonstrate some of his collection of instruments--the quena, zampoña, bandolin and violin. He remembered going to Europe or the U.S. with handfuls of these instruments, giving them away before returning to Ecuador to avoid having to carry them. You couldn't do that now, he relates ruefully, they're much too expensive to give away!
It was so interesting to hear traces of Asian harmonies and structures in the music which has been brought forward from pre-Colombian times. Some of the instruments, like the violin, are European. The flutes and zampoñas are indigenous. You see so much mixing of cultures in formerly colonial countries--well, any country really, as the realities of conflict and migration intrude the world over, writing and rewriting music, poetry, painting, history, fashions and even gene scripts. One person told us her father was Chinese, her mother Ecuadorean. Africans marry Colombians and move to Ecuador, their children go to university and work in the U.S.
It's such a kaleidoscopic whirl--languages, cultures, colors, birds and plants, colors and tastes of exotic fruits. Sometimes I long for a quiet space in which to contemplate it all. Peguche is a really beautiful place. I can see why Carlos and Sulema love it. A big Andean music festival just finished here before we came, the Pawki Raymi. The big names in Andean music all come, and treat everyone to world-class music. Their daughter Saya wants to go to Yachay University (brand new, a government show piece mostly still under construction on a huge piece of land) to be an engineer. I wonder where her journey will take her?
Monday, March 2, 2015
Tuesday, Feb. 24 Pilgrims in Peguche
A morning of confusion and schedule changes. Albert and Magdalena drove us to Otavalo with their goddaughter, a cheerful woman who talked more than an hour without pausing for breath. We drove through the small town of Cayambe which is absolutely bustling with building fever. It reminds me of some of the valleys in northern California, very beautiful, mostly rural, not very far from Otavalo. I could maybe live here, I think, at least part of the year. (Very tentative statement here--not sure I could stand missing family and friends). Albert stopped so that we could try bizcochos, which were amazing with dulce de leche (like caramel). We arrived in Otavalo around noon, Albert picked up Romel, the country rep here, and dropped the three of us off in Peguche. Romel introduced us, promised to meet with us soon and left us with a charming couple who apologized because Romel had indicated we were coming on Thursday, two days later!
Carlos and Sulema, we soon discovered, are just wonderful people. We catapulted right into a full-scale interview lasting about two hours. They both speak a little English from their travels in the U.S. and Europe selling clothing and performing music. Their primary language is Kichwa, the indigenous tongue spoken by the Incas. As is typical with many indigenes, Sulema and her two daughters, indeed, all the women of the family wear indigenous dress. Carlos and his son and brother-in-law wear U.S. casual attire--t-shirts and jeans. Ironically enough, I learned that the indigenous dress of both women and men derives from Spanish costumes of two hundred years ago, when the people were still hoping to win their freedom from slavery. No one but historians knows this, of course, so the customs--and the costumes--continue.
The women's outfits consist of a long, slim white skirt with a black outer skirt split up both sides. This is supported by a woven and embroidered belt wrapped several times around the waist and tucked at the terminal end back into itself. The blouse is white, with frilly 3/4 sleeves and a ruffle around the neck. It is typically embroidered all around the neckline and both sleeves, sometimes also the ruffle. Their black hair is braided and wrapped part way around the braid is a thin, embroidered cotton ribbon. It is traditional to wear many gold chains around the neck and gold earrings. It is not real gold, of course. It was only real when gold was $35 an ounce. They wear sandals with a sling back and black felt uppers. The boys, I am told wear white sandals in the identical pattern. This outfit makes every woman look beautiful, in my honest opinion.
The work of this family centers around tie-dyeing clothing. Carlos' father is a weaver and Sulema's family has been into clothing construction for generations. The story of how they met is quite unusual. He was born in Otavalo, she in Peguche, two or three miles away. There was no chance they would meet in Ecuador. In 1994, they were both in Holland at an international fair selling Andean clothing. They met and the relationship continued to grow when they returned home. They married four years later and have been living in Peguche ever since. Carlos and she started their own business when they married, and they love what they do, love working together--in fact, Carlos' favorite part of the business (other than making sales) is the back-and-forth of creating clothing designs together.
Her favorite part is the way designing clothing engages her imagination and creativity. Their tie-dye shop is on the square in Otavalo, but most of their sales are for resale. They have some tourist business in the shop, but most of the sales from the shop are to the other vendors in the Saturday market, one of the most famous markets in South America. Their clients were mainly from the U.S. and Europe until 2009, when the Depression hit. At that time, Carlos had to work really hard to open up markets in South America. Their biggest customer currently is Chile, followed by Brazil and Argentina.
They both love the challenge of creating new designs, so they are ready and willing to create anything a client might want. They are both highly creative and very well-matched as a couple. As parents, they are admirable. Even their four dogs are chilled out. I've not heard one of them bark, and they don't cringe or jump on people the way so many others do. The day we arrived, one of their dogs was followed home by a small puppy who looked exactly like him. He was immediately adopted into the family.
Carlos told us that even though he has traveled throughout Europe, the U.S. and South America performing Andean music with a group and selling their CD's, he would not want to live anywhere else. He loves Peguche (it is a music capital), loves his work, loves having his family around him. I think he is the most thoroughly at home man I have ever met.
As soon as our interview concluded, Carlos engaged us in helping him resolve a quality control issue with the office in the U.S. After supper we all went up to his workshop to help with correcting the problem. It took about two hours, and afterwards, we fell into bed, thoroughly tired and happy. Vincent noted that of the four artisans we have interviewed so far, all four are strong couples. That either means that the family that works together stays together, or that for everything in the business to work, you really have to like being together.
Our room is small but very, very clean, and the mattress is a real one. We'll wait to find out about hot water in the morning. We feel like we've landed in a little oasis of kindness here. Symbolic of their love and their attitude are their children's names: Apawki, age 4 (son of sun and moon), Punllay, age 6 (star of the sunset) and Saya, age 16 (sweet memory). We are very excited to be here and looking forward to talking and working with them again tomorrow.
Carlos and Sulema, we soon discovered, are just wonderful people. We catapulted right into a full-scale interview lasting about two hours. They both speak a little English from their travels in the U.S. and Europe selling clothing and performing music. Their primary language is Kichwa, the indigenous tongue spoken by the Incas. As is typical with many indigenes, Sulema and her two daughters, indeed, all the women of the family wear indigenous dress. Carlos and his son and brother-in-law wear U.S. casual attire--t-shirts and jeans. Ironically enough, I learned that the indigenous dress of both women and men derives from Spanish costumes of two hundred years ago, when the people were still hoping to win their freedom from slavery. No one but historians knows this, of course, so the customs--and the costumes--continue.
The women's outfits consist of a long, slim white skirt with a black outer skirt split up both sides. This is supported by a woven and embroidered belt wrapped several times around the waist and tucked at the terminal end back into itself. The blouse is white, with frilly 3/4 sleeves and a ruffle around the neck. It is typically embroidered all around the neckline and both sleeves, sometimes also the ruffle. Their black hair is braided and wrapped part way around the braid is a thin, embroidered cotton ribbon. It is traditional to wear many gold chains around the neck and gold earrings. It is not real gold, of course. It was only real when gold was $35 an ounce. They wear sandals with a sling back and black felt uppers. The boys, I am told wear white sandals in the identical pattern. This outfit makes every woman look beautiful, in my honest opinion.
The work of this family centers around tie-dyeing clothing. Carlos' father is a weaver and Sulema's family has been into clothing construction for generations. The story of how they met is quite unusual. He was born in Otavalo, she in Peguche, two or three miles away. There was no chance they would meet in Ecuador. In 1994, they were both in Holland at an international fair selling Andean clothing. They met and the relationship continued to grow when they returned home. They married four years later and have been living in Peguche ever since. Carlos and she started their own business when they married, and they love what they do, love working together--in fact, Carlos' favorite part of the business (other than making sales) is the back-and-forth of creating clothing designs together.
Her favorite part is the way designing clothing engages her imagination and creativity. Their tie-dye shop is on the square in Otavalo, but most of their sales are for resale. They have some tourist business in the shop, but most of the sales from the shop are to the other vendors in the Saturday market, one of the most famous markets in South America. Their clients were mainly from the U.S. and Europe until 2009, when the Depression hit. At that time, Carlos had to work really hard to open up markets in South America. Their biggest customer currently is Chile, followed by Brazil and Argentina.
They both love the challenge of creating new designs, so they are ready and willing to create anything a client might want. They are both highly creative and very well-matched as a couple. As parents, they are admirable. Even their four dogs are chilled out. I've not heard one of them bark, and they don't cringe or jump on people the way so many others do. The day we arrived, one of their dogs was followed home by a small puppy who looked exactly like him. He was immediately adopted into the family.
Carlos told us that even though he has traveled throughout Europe, the U.S. and South America performing Andean music with a group and selling their CD's, he would not want to live anywhere else. He loves Peguche (it is a music capital), loves his work, loves having his family around him. I think he is the most thoroughly at home man I have ever met.
As soon as our interview concluded, Carlos engaged us in helping him resolve a quality control issue with the office in the U.S. After supper we all went up to his workshop to help with correcting the problem. It took about two hours, and afterwards, we fell into bed, thoroughly tired and happy. Vincent noted that of the four artisans we have interviewed so far, all four are strong couples. That either means that the family that works together stays together, or that for everything in the business to work, you really have to like being together.
Our room is small but very, very clean, and the mattress is a real one. We'll wait to find out about hot water in the morning. We feel like we've landed in a little oasis of kindness here. Symbolic of their love and their attitude are their children's names: Apawki, age 4 (son of sun and moon), Punllay, age 6 (star of the sunset) and Saya, age 16 (sweet memory). We are very excited to be here and looking forward to talking and working with them again tomorrow.
Monday, Feb. 23, 2015 Faithful in a Little
Writing, writing, all day. Magdalena teased, "I think you are more interested in writing than visiting the workshop." Not true, but deadlines definitely loom large in my mind, and today is the deadline, both for the artisan interview and for the weekly report. Tomorrow we leave for Peguche. I feel so comfortable with Magdalena and Albert, I don't really want to leave. At supper tonight, they expressed so much kindness, welcoming us to come back to visit any time. We returned the invitation in a heartfelt way.
Their son Fernando has a birthday today, and they kindly included us in the modest celebration. His response: "Muchisimas gracias!" This just totally sums up this week here. Incredibly hard-working, dedicated, gracious and hospitable, they are nevertheless grateful for their family, friends, their business, and the opportunity of a new day. We have to leave early in the morning tomorrow, Albert is driving all of us to Otavalo, as has an errand there, too, and it fits into his schedule, or more likely, can be made to fit. What a blessing they have been to us, and teachers as well. If we keep on being faithful in the little we know to do, the road will open out and offer us more opportunities than now we can imagine.
Their son Fernando has a birthday today, and they kindly included us in the modest celebration. His response: "Muchisimas gracias!" This just totally sums up this week here. Incredibly hard-working, dedicated, gracious and hospitable, they are nevertheless grateful for their family, friends, their business, and the opportunity of a new day. We have to leave early in the morning tomorrow, Albert is driving all of us to Otavalo, as has an errand there, too, and it fits into his schedule, or more likely, can be made to fit. What a blessing they have been to us, and teachers as well. If we keep on being faithful in the little we know to do, the road will open out and offer us more opportunities than now we can imagine.
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