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.
Showing posts with label Otavalo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Otavalo. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Friday, March 6, 2015
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.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Feb. 3 Otavaleños
Waking up in Otavalo (one of the most famous small towns in Ecuador, home of one of the biggest and/or most popular open air indigenous markets in South America), a bit confused, thinking at first I was in California (where I grew up), then thought I must be in Chicago, no, Cuenca, no--aha! We are in Otavalo! It is a very nice town, with more of an indigenous population than many of the larger towns in Ecuador, although many more U.S. ex-pats arrive here every year, we were told. Our schedule is changed so that we can spend the first week with Chris, learning the ropes of interviewing with him. He is a delightful friend, so we were happy enough to change. And to learn more before embarking on our own.
When we arrived at the hotel last night, it was late and quite dark. It possesses a beautiful open courtyard filled with flowers, vines and trees and the most beautiful antique wood floors I have ever seen. It is very old, and the door lock looks like something out of a Spanish jail! Vincent says to tell you he just loves arriving in a place in the dark and waking up to see how it looks in the daylight. Suffice it to say, the courtyard is magnificent, we have a balcony overlooking it, away from the noise of the street (important for sleeping, as it lasts all night, I am told) and feel very, very lucky. After a nice breakfast of fruit, eggs and bread, we walked to the town to a restaurant where Chris had an appointment with the owner, and spent several hours looking at his beautiful restaurant/hotel/cafe complex, which he is building himself.
During that interview, I grew sicker and sicker, ending with total expulsion of all foreign material from my digestive tract. I include these somewhat gross details so that you will not envy us too much for our beautiful weather and surroundings! About 1 p.m., Chris and Romel found a restaurant near the square, where they ordered food. I could eat nothing, tried a few bites of Vincent's papas fritas (French fries) and drank a bit of water.
From there we proceeded to the office from which most of the Ecuadorean goods we purchase are shipped, and met with two artisans, one after the other. The first, Christián, is a leather goods producer who makes extremely high quality bags, wallets, purses, and so forth, very nice work. We looked over about five or six different products making suggestions for improvements, mostly in quality or size and placement of pockets, occasionally about materials. I began to feel sick again and had to visit their baño several times to get rid of excess baggage, so to speak.
Our next artisan, Aída, arrived before we were finished with Christián. She waited patiently, and while Chris contacted the home office via Skype, Aída and Christián had a lively discussion which I could not follow, in part due to my indisposition at the time. When Christián left, she showed us the new product she has developed with the Minga office and demonstrated the packaging. Since they are glass dishes, the packaging is very important. I showed her what a suncatcher looked like, as I have questions about the viability of tableware in the fair trade market, which seems to me to be dominated by high-volume, low-priced, standardized merchandise from China. I hope I am wrong, because Aída really needs the income. She is a widow supporting a daughter through college and a grown son who nonetheless is not supporting himself yet. As she was talking to Chris, I heard her say, with tears, that it was all "poco mucho." A little too much for her. She was warm and kind in her talk with us and invited us to her home and workshop, which we will see a bit later this month.
During these two interviews, more drama developed, as Chris' assistant here called to say we would have to leave the hotel because they had double booked and needed to give our rooms to people who had booked last September and November. So Chris sent his assistant out to find another hotel, of which, fortunately, there are many to choose from. She ended up getting us a place just around the corner which is clean, pretty, and slightly cheaper (although without patio). The door lock looks a bit more substantial there and everything is decorated with pine wood.
The shipping office was closing when we left, so we returned to the hotel to meet together with Chris and Romel to discuss how we would arrange to see 15 different artisans in the next three days. That sorted, the three healthy, strong and energetic men went to dinner and I returned to the hotel room for my class via internet. Too tired to do anything else afterward, I fell instantly asleep.
I did not have much time to reflect on the happenings of this day, but one connection I made is that the tomato juice (the fruit is not much like ours at all) was common to both episodes of sickness. I will steer clear, I promise, from now on. If I have another episode, it will be unrelated to tomato juice!
After my class, which focuses on personal growth, I reflected how much of what I have learned in the class experience is helping this trip to be a good one--living more extended to the world, less constricted into myself, questioning my automatic conclusions about who I am and how others treat me, and finding the deeper truths which will set me free from the shelter I constructed as a child, but which I have now outgrown and have realized it didn't protect me very much. To be still, hiding, unmoving, unspeaking to avoid pain, conflict or rejection, is very similar to being dead. I have decided to live, instead. I have learned to protect myself much better than I could by hiding and pretending not to exist. And anyway, most people are not out to do me harm--they are hoping that I am not out to get THEM. Or, even better, they wonder how they can help me.
When we arrived at the hotel last night, it was late and quite dark. It possesses a beautiful open courtyard filled with flowers, vines and trees and the most beautiful antique wood floors I have ever seen. It is very old, and the door lock looks like something out of a Spanish jail! Vincent says to tell you he just loves arriving in a place in the dark and waking up to see how it looks in the daylight. Suffice it to say, the courtyard is magnificent, we have a balcony overlooking it, away from the noise of the street (important for sleeping, as it lasts all night, I am told) and feel very, very lucky. After a nice breakfast of fruit, eggs and bread, we walked to the town to a restaurant where Chris had an appointment with the owner, and spent several hours looking at his beautiful restaurant/hotel/cafe complex, which he is building himself.
During that interview, I grew sicker and sicker, ending with total expulsion of all foreign material from my digestive tract. I include these somewhat gross details so that you will not envy us too much for our beautiful weather and surroundings! About 1 p.m., Chris and Romel found a restaurant near the square, where they ordered food. I could eat nothing, tried a few bites of Vincent's papas fritas (French fries) and drank a bit of water.
From there we proceeded to the office from which most of the Ecuadorean goods we purchase are shipped, and met with two artisans, one after the other. The first, Christián, is a leather goods producer who makes extremely high quality bags, wallets, purses, and so forth, very nice work. We looked over about five or six different products making suggestions for improvements, mostly in quality or size and placement of pockets, occasionally about materials. I began to feel sick again and had to visit their baño several times to get rid of excess baggage, so to speak.
Our next artisan, Aída, arrived before we were finished with Christián. She waited patiently, and while Chris contacted the home office via Skype, Aída and Christián had a lively discussion which I could not follow, in part due to my indisposition at the time. When Christián left, she showed us the new product she has developed with the Minga office and demonstrated the packaging. Since they are glass dishes, the packaging is very important. I showed her what a suncatcher looked like, as I have questions about the viability of tableware in the fair trade market, which seems to me to be dominated by high-volume, low-priced, standardized merchandise from China. I hope I am wrong, because Aída really needs the income. She is a widow supporting a daughter through college and a grown son who nonetheless is not supporting himself yet. As she was talking to Chris, I heard her say, with tears, that it was all "poco mucho." A little too much for her. She was warm and kind in her talk with us and invited us to her home and workshop, which we will see a bit later this month.
During these two interviews, more drama developed, as Chris' assistant here called to say we would have to leave the hotel because they had double booked and needed to give our rooms to people who had booked last September and November. So Chris sent his assistant out to find another hotel, of which, fortunately, there are many to choose from. She ended up getting us a place just around the corner which is clean, pretty, and slightly cheaper (although without patio). The door lock looks a bit more substantial there and everything is decorated with pine wood.
The shipping office was closing when we left, so we returned to the hotel to meet together with Chris and Romel to discuss how we would arrange to see 15 different artisans in the next three days. That sorted, the three healthy, strong and energetic men went to dinner and I returned to the hotel room for my class via internet. Too tired to do anything else afterward, I fell instantly asleep.
I did not have much time to reflect on the happenings of this day, but one connection I made is that the tomato juice (the fruit is not much like ours at all) was common to both episodes of sickness. I will steer clear, I promise, from now on. If I have another episode, it will be unrelated to tomato juice!
After my class, which focuses on personal growth, I reflected how much of what I have learned in the class experience is helping this trip to be a good one--living more extended to the world, less constricted into myself, questioning my automatic conclusions about who I am and how others treat me, and finding the deeper truths which will set me free from the shelter I constructed as a child, but which I have now outgrown and have realized it didn't protect me very much. To be still, hiding, unmoving, unspeaking to avoid pain, conflict or rejection, is very similar to being dead. I have decided to live, instead. I have learned to protect myself much better than I could by hiding and pretending not to exist. And anyway, most people are not out to do me harm--they are hoping that I am not out to get THEM. Or, even better, they wonder how they can help me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)