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!
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