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?
Showing posts with label fair trade. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fair trade. 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.
Friday, February 20, 2015
Thursday, February 19, 2015 - Misunderstandings
Woke up to the sound of rain on the tin roof. Off and on during the day, there were several downpours, at least it sounded like that on the roof. Vincent says it was a light rain, at least the part he was in. This is, after all, the rainy season.
We spent most of the morning catching up on our reporting. This morning, Vincent went out to the shops to get some bread and tea for breakfast (also called “cafecito” here). Albert came to pick him up and showed him the site of the new home and workshop they are building. I stayed on writing, and Vincent came back at noon to walk back with me. He had been photographing the dyeing for a couple of hours in the morning. When we walked down to the Espins’ house, we saw the dyeing process about mid-way through. There were two big “ollas” or cookpots boiling with red dye. These are from some of the beads that were made yesterday and even earlier. I tried to help out by stirring the pots and spreading out the flat beads to dry.
I had a conversation with Magdalena that was eye-opening, even disturbing. I now have a lot of questions about what “fair” in fair trade means. For example, the beads used in fair trade jewelry from some other countries are Czech. Are the Czech workers paid fairly? Do they have good working conditions? It is a lot more complicated when you look into the details of the supply chain. When you buy a sample from an artisan, have you bought the design? I took some time to make some designs for them, which they are free to use, adapt, or not. She has had some experiences of people using her designs without her permission—I wanted to try to make it up to her a tiny bit.
The dyeing process is very laborious, involving lugging heavy pots of water and beads back and forth many times. Magdalena needs a young man to help her, but so far they haven’t either found or engaged him. The red is a particularly hard color to get right. She boiled the beads for three hours and they were still not right—after another two hours and the addition of more dye, they finally matched the sample. A long, exhausting day for Magdalena.
After supper, we asked Albert and Magdalena if they had any questions for us. Magdalena said to Alberth, “You first. I have one, too.” Albert said the kindest thing—he didn’t have any questions, he felt that we were kindred spirits and he was really glad we have come. Then Magdalena wanted to know what our religion was. Here in Ecuador, that is not the kind of personal question that raises eyebrows back home. My initial response was, “At what time?” I have been through an odyssey of the different Christian denominations that would make your head spin. We were all laughing and enjoying the dialogue. It seems, we are quite similar in faith, too, to this family.
Afterwards, we had the most hilarious conversation. Alberth was telling us he could drop us up to the house at 9 in the morning. They had to go visit their son in university until 10:30 at night. That was what I heard. We were busy planning out tomorrow on our own, then. They were bewildered by what we were saying. At last Magdalena laughed out loud. “We’re talking about tonight, not tomorrow!” It is simply amazing how quickly, and by one word, a conversation and the necessary understanding can get off track, and how long it can take in a foreign language to get it back on track again.
I think the theme of the day is that misunderstanding can happen at every turn in a relationship. We have to be so careful to check our understanding to make sure it is correct.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Wednesday, February 11, Walking by Faith
When I realized today was the 11th, I thought of Anne--her birthday is today. Happy birthday, my beloved friend!
Our days are falling into a sort of routine--wake up at 5 when the roosters begin crowing. There is a neighborhood rooster who I swear is being strangled every morning. Either that or he was removed from the flock too early, because his cry is nothing like the other roosters.' I feel compelled to laugh at his poor imitation! We work on notes for the previous day (internet not available in our room) or sometimes have prayer together.
Around 8 or 8:30, Juanita makes us a huge breakfast--today's was papaya, fried eggs, and patacones (fried green plantain patties). (Monday, it was pancakes, and when I asked what they were called in Spanish, she replied with a smile, "pancakes." :) Some things don't need translation. We return to our room, cover everything to keep out the dust of construction and collect everyone together to go to the shop at the equatorial monument, help out with the work, ask questions and write answers (after repeating them in my minimal Spanish to see if we got the gist). Andrés is with the children this week, since they are on vacation, so he comes with them to pick us up for lunch, and afterwards returns us to the shop where we work and talk some more, then home where we get a "cafecito," which is a hot drink and a snack, such as chocolate bread, which we had yesterday--yum! Juanita often orders food for the folks working at the shop and brings it back for them. If they have food, they offer to share it with us as well. Very neighborly set-up.
No more trouble with the authorities this morning, and we set to work--I, cutting cords for the 480 pairs of earrings which go with the necklaces we finished yesterday, Vincent studying Spanish. A new person arrived this morning, Rosita, who works several days a week at home for Juanita making jewelry. She is older than the others, and a bit shy, I think. Isabel is there four days a week or so. Andrés stayed with us a while working on various tasks around the shop. He went to pick up the children and took us to lunch. On the menu was beef or "internal organs." I could see Vincent turn pale. Everybody had a good laugh at his reaction. It turned out to be intestines, but we ate the beef! Across from the restaurant is an ice cream shop--the ice cream is made not with cows' milk, but coconut milk. Vincent treated everyone to an ice cream (as he had yesterday) and it was absolutely delicious. Everyone chose the coconut flavor, because it is so yummy.
Juanita brought soup back to Rosita and Isabel, which they enjoyed with some of the patacones she had made for breakfast. (There was a small mountain of them). Another neighbor, Manresa (sp?), enjoyed them very much and kept coming back for more.) About mid-afternoon, another employee of Juanita's arrived to work on the earrings. Her name is Paulina. She has a fifteen year-old son (she married at the age of 19) and is from the countryside--the campo--12th of 14 children. She reminded me so much of my mother. She told jokes in Spanish, teased everyone, and laughed a lot. She had us laughing uncontrollable at times, so much so that Vincent teased them about being "borrachas," drunk. She retorted that he was a sapo, which when I looked it up was a "toad." We all fell off our stools laughing. Both of us tried a piece of the earring assembly which was to poke two ends of a loop of cord through the drilled tagua slices. Well! It looked very easy the way they did it, but it was hard! We each managed to get one or two loops through, but had to turn the ones that were stuck over to Pauli or Juanita to finish. We really grew in appreciation for the work the women do. Wow! just poking a loop through a hole is a whole process in and of itself.
It was time to ask the remaining questions of Juanita--what do you want us to say to our customers. She hesitated a long time, then replied that we should say how important the work is to the lives of the mothers who perform it. She related a fact which I had not known before, which is that her daughter, Emily, has a physical condition which the doctors say is permanent. She gets frequent intestinal infections, and in December had to be hospitalized for it (not the first time.) There is a preventive medicine her doctor prescribed, but it comes from the U.S. and cannot be imported to Ecuador. Government policy. So through her friendship with Chris, she has been able to obtain this medicine which allows her not to have to give Emily so many antibiotics, which is the only treatment actually available in Ecuador. She said that Isabel would not be able to deal with her daughter's severe asthma if she did not have the income and that this was true for many mothers. The money helps with food, clothing, schooling and medicine, so she said simply, "Tell them when they buy something, thank you very much."
The tears came to my eyes when I had understood what she said. What a difficult life! And yet, Juanita is almost always smiling, even when she is very tired. "God is good," she says, and she means it. We brought Paulina home, and Rosita's bags, which were too heavy for her to carry, then as we entered the house, Juanita sparkled at me with the words, "We have an invitation." We bundled everyone into the car (Mateo was feeling better) to visit her friend, who speaks pretty good English and prepares an excellent empanada! Her friend explained to us that although she was a journalist, she preferred to care for her two daughters at home. Her husband also is a writer, and she related how difficult it is now to express your opinion in writing. There is definitely censorship of the press and maltreatment of those who dare to criticize the government. She also spoke of the struggles of the indigenous people to protect the environment, the land, and especially the water, as those are what sustain them. They have been protesting actively against the government, especially over land and water rights, opposing the drilling of more oil wells. She said that non-indigenous people are not very actively protesting, but they ought to be supporting the protests, as the indigenes have it right. She told us about a cooperative in the countryside called Yunguilla which are working cooperatively and ecologically on everything. Maybe we'll get a chance to visit. We had already heard about the Intag valley, which is large and has a lot of support from other countries. Yunguilla is much smaller, and it has no outside support, many fewer people, but the idea is the same: protect the land, purify the water, work together.
She felt that tourism in Ecuador was not on the rise, as the government has stated. As we have heard before in other places, there is a lot of public unhappiness with the expensive Ecuador tourism ad during the Super Bowl (sponsored by the Ecuadorean government). For those millions, they could have built more hotels, more infrastructure to receive all the desired tourists and taught more people to speak English to deal with the influx of gringos. Nevertheless, she is content with her life, even with the restricted income of her not working, enjoys being with her kids and loves her husband. He is a good man, as Juanita says. We did not see him because he often works till midnight.
When we got home, I was able to reach Anne by phone, which was so good for me. What a blessing to be able to stay in touch with friends and family even though far away! I went to sleep thinking about how life unfolds so slowly, day by day. It is not often I have a sense of where it is going. But there are so many wonderful sights, sounds, tastes, smells and relationships along the way. When I am reminded of my mother (as Pauli did so strongly) and my father, both of whom are in the next world, I just feel so grateful for all the kind and loving people I have met and for their blessing. We truly do not travel this road alone, as the spirit of Love accompanies us all the way, even in the dark and unclear times. To all of you who are reading this, thank you for your kindness and friendship. We would not have made it this far without you.
Our days are falling into a sort of routine--wake up at 5 when the roosters begin crowing. There is a neighborhood rooster who I swear is being strangled every morning. Either that or he was removed from the flock too early, because his cry is nothing like the other roosters.' I feel compelled to laugh at his poor imitation! We work on notes for the previous day (internet not available in our room) or sometimes have prayer together.
Around 8 or 8:30, Juanita makes us a huge breakfast--today's was papaya, fried eggs, and patacones (fried green plantain patties). (Monday, it was pancakes, and when I asked what they were called in Spanish, she replied with a smile, "pancakes." :) Some things don't need translation. We return to our room, cover everything to keep out the dust of construction and collect everyone together to go to the shop at the equatorial monument, help out with the work, ask questions and write answers (after repeating them in my minimal Spanish to see if we got the gist). Andrés is with the children this week, since they are on vacation, so he comes with them to pick us up for lunch, and afterwards returns us to the shop where we work and talk some more, then home where we get a "cafecito," which is a hot drink and a snack, such as chocolate bread, which we had yesterday--yum! Juanita often orders food for the folks working at the shop and brings it back for them. If they have food, they offer to share it with us as well. Very neighborly set-up.
No more trouble with the authorities this morning, and we set to work--I, cutting cords for the 480 pairs of earrings which go with the necklaces we finished yesterday, Vincent studying Spanish. A new person arrived this morning, Rosita, who works several days a week at home for Juanita making jewelry. She is older than the others, and a bit shy, I think. Isabel is there four days a week or so. Andrés stayed with us a while working on various tasks around the shop. He went to pick up the children and took us to lunch. On the menu was beef or "internal organs." I could see Vincent turn pale. Everybody had a good laugh at his reaction. It turned out to be intestines, but we ate the beef! Across from the restaurant is an ice cream shop--the ice cream is made not with cows' milk, but coconut milk. Vincent treated everyone to an ice cream (as he had yesterday) and it was absolutely delicious. Everyone chose the coconut flavor, because it is so yummy.
Juanita brought soup back to Rosita and Isabel, which they enjoyed with some of the patacones she had made for breakfast. (There was a small mountain of them). Another neighbor, Manresa (sp?), enjoyed them very much and kept coming back for more.) About mid-afternoon, another employee of Juanita's arrived to work on the earrings. Her name is Paulina. She has a fifteen year-old son (she married at the age of 19) and is from the countryside--the campo--12th of 14 children. She reminded me so much of my mother. She told jokes in Spanish, teased everyone, and laughed a lot. She had us laughing uncontrollable at times, so much so that Vincent teased them about being "borrachas," drunk. She retorted that he was a sapo, which when I looked it up was a "toad." We all fell off our stools laughing. Both of us tried a piece of the earring assembly which was to poke two ends of a loop of cord through the drilled tagua slices. Well! It looked very easy the way they did it, but it was hard! We each managed to get one or two loops through, but had to turn the ones that were stuck over to Pauli or Juanita to finish. We really grew in appreciation for the work the women do. Wow! just poking a loop through a hole is a whole process in and of itself.
It was time to ask the remaining questions of Juanita--what do you want us to say to our customers. She hesitated a long time, then replied that we should say how important the work is to the lives of the mothers who perform it. She related a fact which I had not known before, which is that her daughter, Emily, has a physical condition which the doctors say is permanent. She gets frequent intestinal infections, and in December had to be hospitalized for it (not the first time.) There is a preventive medicine her doctor prescribed, but it comes from the U.S. and cannot be imported to Ecuador. Government policy. So through her friendship with Chris, she has been able to obtain this medicine which allows her not to have to give Emily so many antibiotics, which is the only treatment actually available in Ecuador. She said that Isabel would not be able to deal with her daughter's severe asthma if she did not have the income and that this was true for many mothers. The money helps with food, clothing, schooling and medicine, so she said simply, "Tell them when they buy something, thank you very much."
The tears came to my eyes when I had understood what she said. What a difficult life! And yet, Juanita is almost always smiling, even when she is very tired. "God is good," she says, and she means it. We brought Paulina home, and Rosita's bags, which were too heavy for her to carry, then as we entered the house, Juanita sparkled at me with the words, "We have an invitation." We bundled everyone into the car (Mateo was feeling better) to visit her friend, who speaks pretty good English and prepares an excellent empanada! Her friend explained to us that although she was a journalist, she preferred to care for her two daughters at home. Her husband also is a writer, and she related how difficult it is now to express your opinion in writing. There is definitely censorship of the press and maltreatment of those who dare to criticize the government. She also spoke of the struggles of the indigenous people to protect the environment, the land, and especially the water, as those are what sustain them. They have been protesting actively against the government, especially over land and water rights, opposing the drilling of more oil wells. She said that non-indigenous people are not very actively protesting, but they ought to be supporting the protests, as the indigenes have it right. She told us about a cooperative in the countryside called Yunguilla which are working cooperatively and ecologically on everything. Maybe we'll get a chance to visit. We had already heard about the Intag valley, which is large and has a lot of support from other countries. Yunguilla is much smaller, and it has no outside support, many fewer people, but the idea is the same: protect the land, purify the water, work together.
She felt that tourism in Ecuador was not on the rise, as the government has stated. As we have heard before in other places, there is a lot of public unhappiness with the expensive Ecuador tourism ad during the Super Bowl (sponsored by the Ecuadorean government). For those millions, they could have built more hotels, more infrastructure to receive all the desired tourists and taught more people to speak English to deal with the influx of gringos. Nevertheless, she is content with her life, even with the restricted income of her not working, enjoys being with her kids and loves her husband. He is a good man, as Juanita says. We did not see him because he often works till midnight.
When we got home, I was able to reach Anne by phone, which was so good for me. What a blessing to be able to stay in touch with friends and family even though far away! I went to sleep thinking about how life unfolds so slowly, day by day. It is not often I have a sense of where it is going. But there are so many wonderful sights, sounds, tastes, smells and relationships along the way. When I am reminded of my mother (as Pauli did so strongly) and my father, both of whom are in the next world, I just feel so grateful for all the kind and loving people I have met and for their blessing. We truly do not travel this road alone, as the spirit of Love accompanies us all the way, even in the dark and unclear times. To all of you who are reading this, thank you for your kindness and friendship. We would not have made it this far without you.
Friday, February 6, 2015
Feb. 5 Transforming Hope
After breakfast, the four of us started hiking for the bus to the Maldonado home. Providentially, Chris saw someone on the street, another artisan, whom he knew. Carlos was pleased to drive us to our destination, and on the way, Chris was able to discuss a packing problem that Carlos had with the "Panama" hats he makes.
I'll just remind you of the hats' interesting story. They are--and have always been--made in Ecuador. The grass, pajatoquilla (PA-ha-toe-KEE-ya), grows near the western coast of Ecuador. When the international team of scientists came here to map the exact location of the equator, they bought the hats and some of them later went to Panama to help build the Canal. Others bought them as they were very useful in the hot sun, and people assumed the hats they saw had come from Panama. (Another version is that Teddy Roosevelt saw the Canal workers wearing them and mislabeled them Panama hats.)
Whatever really happened, Minga sells hundreds of these nearly indestructible and quite fashionable straw hats made by Carlos and his team. Carlos and Chris spent the ride up into the countryside discussing packing options.
We arrived at the home of Luis and Maria Maldonado, were warmly greeted by them and a very young couple, their daughter Alicia and husband Oscar and their small child. It seems that the five of them live in this house with perhaps some others who were introduced as visiting or not introduced at all. Maria invited us into her home and found four kindergarten size stools for us to occupy while Luis and she related their story. They have been knitting sweaters for dogs for about 18 years. The designs are their own. Fifteen years ago, they approached a U.S. company which began marketing their designs in the U.S. and beyond. All went well for several years until their go-between's brother died. This necessitated his moving out of the area, and they had to find another interpreter. They both speak Quichua and limited Spanish.
A couple from the U.S. approached them and signed them up to make the sweaters for another company (to remain nameless). The couple's names were D and L. The abuses began then. First of all, they never had a contract with this company. The Maldonados would fulfill an order and then wait up to four weeks for payment. When we met with them, they were desperate. They had not been paid since they delivered their last order to D and L's company which was June, 2014--seven months! They had not received any further orders. Furthermore, D and L were patenting for themselves the designs the Maldonados had worked on for many months. They were nearly in tears telling this story and it obviously brought them down to recall it. The poverty of our surroundings began to make sense to us. They had next to no furniture, the room we met in had no light bulb until Chris borrowed one from the main room. Romel told us they had said to him they would have to go looking for work tomorrow, as they had next to nothing left. The walls were rough cinder block, the floor bare cement, with only two grass mats at the door to keep out the mud.
After a while of talking, the daughter demonstrated using a spinning wheel and yarn frame standing just inside the front door to demonstrate how she wound a handful of yarn onto a spool. It gave me such a strange feeling to see the exact same equipment and process I had seen with silk in Laos and cotton in Guatemala!
They invited Vincent to come in and take photos of their workshop. It nearly broke his heart, and mine, too, when I heard about it. It was a small room with several hand knitting machines such as we had seen used to make the pieces for the animal hats. There was no yarn at all in the room, no supplies, completely empty except for the machines.
While this was going on, Chris was talking to Luis about how to get going in production again. They belong to a neighborhood co-op that might give them a loan if they had an order, or so I surmised. So in order to connect to the internet, Luis drove us all in his pickup back to our hotel in Otavalo.
When we were able to connect to the internet, we looked up the company for whom they had worked and found several of their designs being offered for sale. That necessitated that they come up with some new designs to avoid any potential conflict--even though the designs were their own. We think they came up with some good ideas, and they will be sending photos of samples with different colors by internet (which their daughter has access to) to Minga. Orders will come from that, we hope, and the samples will be included in the next shipment from Ecuador and paid for at that time.
The more we talked and Chris explained the procedures employed by Minga, the lighter their faces and spirits seemed to become. Just before they left to go home, Vincent had Chris translate for them the sentiments of all of us--that we hoped and prayed things would get better for them, that they would have enough work, and that their beautiful designs would get a wide audience. Every single one of us was in tears at the end of that session.
This, after all, is the reason we sometimes get up at 1, 2, or 3 a.m. to get ready for a sales event, selling fair trade crafts. Yes, there are other artisans working who are not in such dire straits. However, many of them HAVE been in this situation, where they do not know from where the next meal is coming, and we are so blessed to have the opportunity to help them change their and their children's circumstances. You only have to look at the before and after pictures to understand our joy.
After lunch, Hector Guevara brought some samples of children's cotton summer dresses to the restaurant where we were eating. Chris gave him some feedback about how to change the samples to make them more saleable and we rushed back to the hotel, since we were late for the next artisan meeting.
We met with Martha Constante, who works with knitters to make wool sweaters and mittens. She brought one sample which I thought was quite ingenious. She had designed a cable pattern that was incorporated at the neckline, looking like a row of calla lilies all around the neck of the sweater. It was not attached, but a part of the sweater. We connected to the internet, albeit slowly, and were able to see the feedback from the U.S. about how her samples had sold at the latest show and what the office staff thought of each one. Her group's work is very fine, the wool very soft and not at all scratchy, as I am used to wool being. The designs are quite attractive, I think. This was the first time we had an introduction into how Chris determines prices--it's a back and forth negotiation, and Martha was a fine sparring partner for him.
Vincent asked her how many women worked for her, and she replied, "mil quinientos" or 1,500. We could not believe it and went into an extensive discussion of how she figures this. She has a list of 1,500 women she has worked with over the years. She can call on them when she has an order. They do not all work at once, but she has a network of leaders in several villages. Each leader manages up to forty women. She learns from Martha how to make the sweater and then teaches those in her group. Through the leaders, Martha has an idea of the skills of each group, so she assigns various ones to different groups, depending upon their skills. We simply marveled at the consistent high quality of their work, with so many different groups working on the same things. Martha has to be not only a skilled negotiator but an indefatigable organizer. She visits dozens of homes each week out in the countryside.
Vincent also asked her what inspired her to create new designs. Her face lit up and she said that anything can inspire her--a piece of fabric, something she saw in a magazine. It is her favorite part of the work. She loves to create new designs.
Chris gave her an order for samples before she left, and suddenly she did not look as tired and worn to me as she had when she came in.
It was dark when Martha returned to her home. Fernando and Yolanda, the clothing designers, had invited Chris to a meal at a friend's home, and Vincent and I tagged along. After the stark home of the Maldonados, this one was overwhelming. Although it was simply furnished, it was massive, with whitewashed walls and pine log rafters and beautiful tile floors. Peruvian wool wallhangings decorated several walls, and the lamps were sculpted clay, pierced and polished coconut shells and other amazing things. This home was in an enclave of Americans, Canadians and Europeans similar to a gated community back home, sans gate, but wayyyyyyy back in the countryside. When the lights came on we could see three towns spread out on the hills around us, Cotacachi among them. Fields of corn surrounded the complex.
The contrast between the beginning of the day and the end of it was inescapable. It truly is a world full of stark contrasts and some definite inequalities. Still, I was so blessed to be present as the Maldonados were given back their hope.
I'll just remind you of the hats' interesting story. They are--and have always been--made in Ecuador. The grass, pajatoquilla (PA-ha-toe-KEE-ya), grows near the western coast of Ecuador. When the international team of scientists came here to map the exact location of the equator, they bought the hats and some of them later went to Panama to help build the Canal. Others bought them as they were very useful in the hot sun, and people assumed the hats they saw had come from Panama. (Another version is that Teddy Roosevelt saw the Canal workers wearing them and mislabeled them Panama hats.)
Whatever really happened, Minga sells hundreds of these nearly indestructible and quite fashionable straw hats made by Carlos and his team. Carlos and Chris spent the ride up into the countryside discussing packing options.
We arrived at the home of Luis and Maria Maldonado, were warmly greeted by them and a very young couple, their daughter Alicia and husband Oscar and their small child. It seems that the five of them live in this house with perhaps some others who were introduced as visiting or not introduced at all. Maria invited us into her home and found four kindergarten size stools for us to occupy while Luis and she related their story. They have been knitting sweaters for dogs for about 18 years. The designs are their own. Fifteen years ago, they approached a U.S. company which began marketing their designs in the U.S. and beyond. All went well for several years until their go-between's brother died. This necessitated his moving out of the area, and they had to find another interpreter. They both speak Quichua and limited Spanish.
A couple from the U.S. approached them and signed them up to make the sweaters for another company (to remain nameless). The couple's names were D and L. The abuses began then. First of all, they never had a contract with this company. The Maldonados would fulfill an order and then wait up to four weeks for payment. When we met with them, they were desperate. They had not been paid since they delivered their last order to D and L's company which was June, 2014--seven months! They had not received any further orders. Furthermore, D and L were patenting for themselves the designs the Maldonados had worked on for many months. They were nearly in tears telling this story and it obviously brought them down to recall it. The poverty of our surroundings began to make sense to us. They had next to no furniture, the room we met in had no light bulb until Chris borrowed one from the main room. Romel told us they had said to him they would have to go looking for work tomorrow, as they had next to nothing left. The walls were rough cinder block, the floor bare cement, with only two grass mats at the door to keep out the mud.
After a while of talking, the daughter demonstrated using a spinning wheel and yarn frame standing just inside the front door to demonstrate how she wound a handful of yarn onto a spool. It gave me such a strange feeling to see the exact same equipment and process I had seen with silk in Laos and cotton in Guatemala!
They invited Vincent to come in and take photos of their workshop. It nearly broke his heart, and mine, too, when I heard about it. It was a small room with several hand knitting machines such as we had seen used to make the pieces for the animal hats. There was no yarn at all in the room, no supplies, completely empty except for the machines.
While this was going on, Chris was talking to Luis about how to get going in production again. They belong to a neighborhood co-op that might give them a loan if they had an order, or so I surmised. So in order to connect to the internet, Luis drove us all in his pickup back to our hotel in Otavalo.
When we were able to connect to the internet, we looked up the company for whom they had worked and found several of their designs being offered for sale. That necessitated that they come up with some new designs to avoid any potential conflict--even though the designs were their own. We think they came up with some good ideas, and they will be sending photos of samples with different colors by internet (which their daughter has access to) to Minga. Orders will come from that, we hope, and the samples will be included in the next shipment from Ecuador and paid for at that time.
The more we talked and Chris explained the procedures employed by Minga, the lighter their faces and spirits seemed to become. Just before they left to go home, Vincent had Chris translate for them the sentiments of all of us--that we hoped and prayed things would get better for them, that they would have enough work, and that their beautiful designs would get a wide audience. Every single one of us was in tears at the end of that session.
This, after all, is the reason we sometimes get up at 1, 2, or 3 a.m. to get ready for a sales event, selling fair trade crafts. Yes, there are other artisans working who are not in such dire straits. However, many of them HAVE been in this situation, where they do not know from where the next meal is coming, and we are so blessed to have the opportunity to help them change their and their children's circumstances. You only have to look at the before and after pictures to understand our joy.
After lunch, Hector Guevara brought some samples of children's cotton summer dresses to the restaurant where we were eating. Chris gave him some feedback about how to change the samples to make them more saleable and we rushed back to the hotel, since we were late for the next artisan meeting.
We met with Martha Constante, who works with knitters to make wool sweaters and mittens. She brought one sample which I thought was quite ingenious. She had designed a cable pattern that was incorporated at the neckline, looking like a row of calla lilies all around the neck of the sweater. It was not attached, but a part of the sweater. We connected to the internet, albeit slowly, and were able to see the feedback from the U.S. about how her samples had sold at the latest show and what the office staff thought of each one. Her group's work is very fine, the wool very soft and not at all scratchy, as I am used to wool being. The designs are quite attractive, I think. This was the first time we had an introduction into how Chris determines prices--it's a back and forth negotiation, and Martha was a fine sparring partner for him.
Vincent asked her how many women worked for her, and she replied, "mil quinientos" or 1,500. We could not believe it and went into an extensive discussion of how she figures this. She has a list of 1,500 women she has worked with over the years. She can call on them when she has an order. They do not all work at once, but she has a network of leaders in several villages. Each leader manages up to forty women. She learns from Martha how to make the sweater and then teaches those in her group. Through the leaders, Martha has an idea of the skills of each group, so she assigns various ones to different groups, depending upon their skills. We simply marveled at the consistent high quality of their work, with so many different groups working on the same things. Martha has to be not only a skilled negotiator but an indefatigable organizer. She visits dozens of homes each week out in the countryside.
Vincent also asked her what inspired her to create new designs. Her face lit up and she said that anything can inspire her--a piece of fabric, something she saw in a magazine. It is her favorite part of the work. She loves to create new designs.
Chris gave her an order for samples before she left, and suddenly she did not look as tired and worn to me as she had when she came in.
It was dark when Martha returned to her home. Fernando and Yolanda, the clothing designers, had invited Chris to a meal at a friend's home, and Vincent and I tagged along. After the stark home of the Maldonados, this one was overwhelming. Although it was simply furnished, it was massive, with whitewashed walls and pine log rafters and beautiful tile floors. Peruvian wool wallhangings decorated several walls, and the lamps were sculpted clay, pierced and polished coconut shells and other amazing things. This home was in an enclave of Americans, Canadians and Europeans similar to a gated community back home, sans gate, but wayyyyyyy back in the countryside. When the lights came on we could see three towns spread out on the hills around us, Cotacachi among them. Fields of corn surrounded the complex.
The contrast between the beginning of the day and the end of it was inescapable. It truly is a world full of stark contrasts and some definite inequalities. Still, I was so blessed to be present as the Maldonados were given back their hope.
Friday, January 30, 2015
January 30 First Interview, Cuenca
January 30, 2015
A day like no other, our last day of Spanish school here in Cuenca. We brought little gifts with a card for our teachers--they have been very good to us! Yadira and I spent four hours working with the two past tenses and the indicative mood. I can now say things like, "Do it now!" As if--
We went for lunch with about 16 other students to a restaurant where they served a dish very special to Ecuadoreans (and Andeans in general, I believe): cuy. The ancient people, Incas, Cañaris, and all who came before raised guinea pigs for food. Perhaps they think it odd that we make pets of them. It was very difficult to spend the lunchtime with a roasted guinea pig facing me with open mouth and rodent-type front teeth (there are teeth, small ones, also inside the roof of the mouth). Facts you did't want to know, I am sure, and neither did I! Our vegetarian entree, however, was delicious.
Afterwards, we went back to the school to check on e-mail and found our first interview assignment. I called to set it up for Sunday, and before I could suggest a time, the artisan responded: I will meet you in half an hour at this address. Confounded, unprepared and ever-so-slightly nervous, Vincent and I took a taxi there and waited a few minutes, perhaps less than ten. A truck drove up as we stood outside the gate with two broadly grinning people inside. Any fears I may have had vanished instantly. They welcomed us in with open arms, introduced themselves (Carlos and Blanca), and took us directly to the store room to see what they produce. They create the most lifelike turtles and other things out of marble and onyx and sell them to many shops around the world. They also have their own small booth in a co-op store here in Cuenca. A small boy (6) greeted us as we entered the storeroom, their grandson, Carlos, Jr., or Carlito, as he is called. WHAT a salesman he was. Apparently he sometimes helps out in their booth, and he has quite a spiel, all in Spanish, worked out about how nice these turtles like the ones in the Galapagos would be in your home--he rattled on nonstop for at least five minutes, while we stood with mouths agape. Very impressive communication skills that one has.
I hammered away at my Spanish, trying to shape sentences, cutting here, carving away there, looking up words as best I could with my dwindling eyesight and a dictionary with the smallest print ever invented. You could print half the Bible on two pages with that type! Vincent took photos of everything and helped me frame the questions. Because we didn't know when we left the house this morning that we would be interviewing artisans, we didn't have our voice recorder, so we slogged on through thickets of "bastante" and mysterious verb forms. They were such lovely people! They were very, very, VERY patient with us, and at one point it seemed they had not been told we were coming nor why we were here! Imagine welcoming two foreign strangers into your home, answering their questions, waiting until they ask you, "Do you have questions for us?" to say, "How are you related to Chris and Minga Fair Trade?" Just exceedingly kind and generous! Blanca offered us some very delicious fruit juice and as we were finishing, asked us if we wanted to stay for coffee. We were both just blown away by their kindness.
They have four sons (or three sons and a daughter), one of whom is in the U.S. working right now. We asked how they get ideas for new designs and they said that they mostly came from the businesses who order from them. They will make anything they are asked to. If only they had sufficient orders! And this is a common theme throughout fair trade land: How can we get more orders? In the case of the turtles, Carlos said he could make 100 4-cm. turtles in four days, and 100 8-cm. turtles in three. In other words, for the tiny ones, it takes MORE work--a third more time--to make the smaller ones, yet their price in the market is much, much lower. It's like the Chinese finger-trap--if you make them larger, you can sell them for more, and they are less work, but people always want the smaller ones with the lower price. At this point, we don't know how to be helpful, but we promised to report all they said to the U.S. in the hope that some satisfactory solutions might be found.
We asked what they would like customers in the U.S. and Europe to know about them and their work. Each of them replied in different ways that the work with stone is very difficult. The dust from carving and sanding gets into the workers' lungs and poisons them, therefore they have to wear masks. The stone is very, very heavy, and they have to carry their products in boxes to the local shops or the post office for sale or shipment to other countries. They would like customers to know that the work is difficult and that a lot more goes into it than can be imagined from looking at the finished piece.
They have a truck which uses a lot of gas but is strong enough to carry the weight, but probably needs to be replaced or at least repaired. Their house is tiny by N. American standards, but beautiful with an open courtyard in the center where it seems they do a lot of the work. The open air reduces the dust, but increases the cold in the winter, which affects Carlos' bones, he says. I think he probably has arthritis from all the heavy labor he has done. Before they began the stone carving, they were both language arts teachers in a local high school. They needed extra income to raise their four children, so Carlos apprenticed himself (probably at about age 25 or 30) to some local stone carvers. He didn't have to pay them for his learning, and when he got good enough, they paid him a little. He started working with fair trade he thinks about six or seven years ago (I think it is more, because I was selling his turtles before that, but who knows?) He didn't recognize the term, "fair trade," though.
When I explained the idea to him, he became very animated, and I think I lost a lot in the translation, but what was clear is that they don't have enough orders to sustain themselves on the stonework alone. When I explained to them that we wanted to know their history so that we could sell more of their work, they both were happy. I told them that we in the fair trade world were very aware of how hard they work, and that it inspires us to work harder, even though we still do not work as hard as they do. I promised them both I would do my best to tell their story and to help them sell more stone carvings. We parted with smiles, tears and hugs, and Carlos kindly drove us back to the city center in his truck--this after he had driven back from the airport to meet with us at his home--twice across the city during rush hour. On the way, I explained to Carlos that he was our first interviewee, and that we thought that he had been informed that we would be coming and asking questions and why. I said we were so grateful for their kind reception, even though it seemed that they had NOT been told much at all beforehand. He waved it all away and said the pleasure was his.
I asked him how he thought the interview had gone, since it was our first. He replied he thought it had gone very well. He did wonder why I spoke better Spanish than Vincent, and I explained that I had had more instruction. I think he might possibly have wondered why the wife was doing all the talking and the husband all the picture-taking, but he was kind enough, if so, not to divulge this.
All in all, this interview, more than anything else, even the assurances of my Spanish instructor, made us both feel hopeful about the success of the project. It went very well--we had only the camera and my notebook and pen and as much Spanish as I could cobble together in ten days. The reason it went so well is that the artisans were so kind, so helpful, so eager to share their work and their lives. I am grateful afresh for all the wonderful people we have met through being involved in fair trade. It truly is good work, gracias a Díos.
A day like no other, our last day of Spanish school here in Cuenca. We brought little gifts with a card for our teachers--they have been very good to us! Yadira and I spent four hours working with the two past tenses and the indicative mood. I can now say things like, "Do it now!" As if--
We went for lunch with about 16 other students to a restaurant where they served a dish very special to Ecuadoreans (and Andeans in general, I believe): cuy. The ancient people, Incas, Cañaris, and all who came before raised guinea pigs for food. Perhaps they think it odd that we make pets of them. It was very difficult to spend the lunchtime with a roasted guinea pig facing me with open mouth and rodent-type front teeth (there are teeth, small ones, also inside the roof of the mouth). Facts you did't want to know, I am sure, and neither did I! Our vegetarian entree, however, was delicious.
Afterwards, we went back to the school to check on e-mail and found our first interview assignment. I called to set it up for Sunday, and before I could suggest a time, the artisan responded: I will meet you in half an hour at this address. Confounded, unprepared and ever-so-slightly nervous, Vincent and I took a taxi there and waited a few minutes, perhaps less than ten. A truck drove up as we stood outside the gate with two broadly grinning people inside. Any fears I may have had vanished instantly. They welcomed us in with open arms, introduced themselves (Carlos and Blanca), and took us directly to the store room to see what they produce. They create the most lifelike turtles and other things out of marble and onyx and sell them to many shops around the world. They also have their own small booth in a co-op store here in Cuenca. A small boy (6) greeted us as we entered the storeroom, their grandson, Carlos, Jr., or Carlito, as he is called. WHAT a salesman he was. Apparently he sometimes helps out in their booth, and he has quite a spiel, all in Spanish, worked out about how nice these turtles like the ones in the Galapagos would be in your home--he rattled on nonstop for at least five minutes, while we stood with mouths agape. Very impressive communication skills that one has.
I hammered away at my Spanish, trying to shape sentences, cutting here, carving away there, looking up words as best I could with my dwindling eyesight and a dictionary with the smallest print ever invented. You could print half the Bible on two pages with that type! Vincent took photos of everything and helped me frame the questions. Because we didn't know when we left the house this morning that we would be interviewing artisans, we didn't have our voice recorder, so we slogged on through thickets of "bastante" and mysterious verb forms. They were such lovely people! They were very, very, VERY patient with us, and at one point it seemed they had not been told we were coming nor why we were here! Imagine welcoming two foreign strangers into your home, answering their questions, waiting until they ask you, "Do you have questions for us?" to say, "How are you related to Chris and Minga Fair Trade?" Just exceedingly kind and generous! Blanca offered us some very delicious fruit juice and as we were finishing, asked us if we wanted to stay for coffee. We were both just blown away by their kindness.
They have four sons (or three sons and a daughter), one of whom is in the U.S. working right now. We asked how they get ideas for new designs and they said that they mostly came from the businesses who order from them. They will make anything they are asked to. If only they had sufficient orders! And this is a common theme throughout fair trade land: How can we get more orders? In the case of the turtles, Carlos said he could make 100 4-cm. turtles in four days, and 100 8-cm. turtles in three. In other words, for the tiny ones, it takes MORE work--a third more time--to make the smaller ones, yet their price in the market is much, much lower. It's like the Chinese finger-trap--if you make them larger, you can sell them for more, and they are less work, but people always want the smaller ones with the lower price. At this point, we don't know how to be helpful, but we promised to report all they said to the U.S. in the hope that some satisfactory solutions might be found.
We asked what they would like customers in the U.S. and Europe to know about them and their work. Each of them replied in different ways that the work with stone is very difficult. The dust from carving and sanding gets into the workers' lungs and poisons them, therefore they have to wear masks. The stone is very, very heavy, and they have to carry their products in boxes to the local shops or the post office for sale or shipment to other countries. They would like customers to know that the work is difficult and that a lot more goes into it than can be imagined from looking at the finished piece.
They have a truck which uses a lot of gas but is strong enough to carry the weight, but probably needs to be replaced or at least repaired. Their house is tiny by N. American standards, but beautiful with an open courtyard in the center where it seems they do a lot of the work. The open air reduces the dust, but increases the cold in the winter, which affects Carlos' bones, he says. I think he probably has arthritis from all the heavy labor he has done. Before they began the stone carving, they were both language arts teachers in a local high school. They needed extra income to raise their four children, so Carlos apprenticed himself (probably at about age 25 or 30) to some local stone carvers. He didn't have to pay them for his learning, and when he got good enough, they paid him a little. He started working with fair trade he thinks about six or seven years ago (I think it is more, because I was selling his turtles before that, but who knows?) He didn't recognize the term, "fair trade," though.
When I explained the idea to him, he became very animated, and I think I lost a lot in the translation, but what was clear is that they don't have enough orders to sustain themselves on the stonework alone. When I explained to them that we wanted to know their history so that we could sell more of their work, they both were happy. I told them that we in the fair trade world were very aware of how hard they work, and that it inspires us to work harder, even though we still do not work as hard as they do. I promised them both I would do my best to tell their story and to help them sell more stone carvings. We parted with smiles, tears and hugs, and Carlos kindly drove us back to the city center in his truck--this after he had driven back from the airport to meet with us at his home--twice across the city during rush hour. On the way, I explained to Carlos that he was our first interviewee, and that we thought that he had been informed that we would be coming and asking questions and why. I said we were so grateful for their kind reception, even though it seemed that they had NOT been told much at all beforehand. He waved it all away and said the pleasure was his.
I asked him how he thought the interview had gone, since it was our first. He replied he thought it had gone very well. He did wonder why I spoke better Spanish than Vincent, and I explained that I had had more instruction. I think he might possibly have wondered why the wife was doing all the talking and the husband all the picture-taking, but he was kind enough, if so, not to divulge this.
All in all, this interview, more than anything else, even the assurances of my Spanish instructor, made us both feel hopeful about the success of the project. It went very well--we had only the camera and my notebook and pen and as much Spanish as I could cobble together in ten days. The reason it went so well is that the artisans were so kind, so helpful, so eager to share their work and their lives. I am grateful afresh for all the wonderful people we have met through being involved in fair trade. It truly is good work, gracias a Díos.
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