Today is laundry day, among other things. We spent most of the day typing up reports and writing up interviews. In the morning, something happened that helped me understand many of the failures I have experienced in a new light. I feel hopeful that change can happen, now that I see the pattern. It is one common to many women, as we have been taught to ignore our own needs and take care of others'. This doesn't work very well, as the compassion necessary to take care of others comes from the felt recognition of our own needs. I'm committed to changing that pattern in my own life and helping others change it (if they wish) in theirs.
So many of the people we have interviewed this week have shown me how beautiful life can be, even in the face of poverty, when there is hope. What a gift this is, this hope that blossoms from mud and ordure! The fact that change can come, even so late in one's life, is powerfully inspiring. Perhaps there are still things I can contribute, still gifts I can give. There is a wide space opening out to me. I am grateful. And if failure and pain was what it took to get me here, they are worth it.
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.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Friday, February 27, 2015 Homestay in Ilumán
We met some of our other house mates, Francis and Sonita from France. They are clients of Carlos and they buy and sell his hats very successfully at an 8-week Christmas market. They are both very friendly, kind and cheerful. Francis does not have much Spanish--French, German and a little English instead. Sonita was born on the island of Reunión in the Indian Ocean (near Madagascar, we looked it up). We looked up each other's home towns on Google Maps.
Sonita has two daughters going to school in France, the third daughter, the oldest is taking care of them--Sonita keeps up with them via Skype. One of her daughters is undergoing treatment for cancer, which is very worrisome for Sonita. I am finding it quite disconcerting to be chatting along in Spanish and have Francis or Sonita stop me and talk in English, French (of which I have not one word) or German. As I was beginning to learn Spanish, the German I learned in high school and college came to me more readily than Spanish, and now it is coming at me out of context. My brain gets stuck in "Spanish gear" and I can't think of an English or German word which I know perfectly well. It's like learning to drive a manual transmission--lurch to a halt, step on the gas, car dies. Press the starter and try again. Plus the French pronunciation throws me off. They are very patient and kind and full of humor, so we are getting along well despite the lack of a common language.
The home, living quarters and workshop are quite a lot bigger than we imagined. It seems Carlos and his mother, Zoila (SOY-la), live here with Carlos' two boys, Sebastián and Miguel. Carlos' wife died of cancer two years ago, and Zoila mothers them. Zoila's uncle started this business many, many years ago. They transported everything to market by burro! It was a very hard life. Zoila still works in the business, but Carlos is in charge. They sell to many different countries and have dozens of styles of hats they make in leather, wool and straw. They also offer hospitality to many visitors, including us. Tomorrow Carlos is going to Otavalo to ship an order to a customer in Canada. Carlos and his mother both are extremely energetic people--they run everywhere. They are very concerned that we get the proper food (I am lactose intolerant to a certain degree, and Vincent is a vegetarian). We told them they didn't have to trouble themselves, we would eat anything, but they have put together quite a menu of possibilities for us.
I spent some time on the phone and the internet today making sure our mortgage would be paid, as we haven't tried the mail service yet and don't know if we want to. It was a day of catching up with small things. We went out for a walk in the town plaza and looked for chirimoya. Unfortunately, I was remembering the wrong fruit and we got some (somewhat sour) maracuyá instead. It's an interesting fruit--to open it, you smash the rind on a wall or a table, it cracks open and you scoop out the jelly-covered seeds from the center. The taste is similar to tamarindo.
I'm thinking a lot today of family and friends back in the U.S. As we tool around the country meeting ever more new people, I am missing the old friends, the grandchildren, Elspeth. Vincent is also missing hearing English spoken. He signed up for Netflix because of it, then immediately cancelled. One thing we are NOT homesick for is snow! We are hopeful that when we return in April, we will see all of you, but no frozen water anywhere. Water is much more pleasant not frozen or boiling!
Sonita has two daughters going to school in France, the third daughter, the oldest is taking care of them--Sonita keeps up with them via Skype. One of her daughters is undergoing treatment for cancer, which is very worrisome for Sonita. I am finding it quite disconcerting to be chatting along in Spanish and have Francis or Sonita stop me and talk in English, French (of which I have not one word) or German. As I was beginning to learn Spanish, the German I learned in high school and college came to me more readily than Spanish, and now it is coming at me out of context. My brain gets stuck in "Spanish gear" and I can't think of an English or German word which I know perfectly well. It's like learning to drive a manual transmission--lurch to a halt, step on the gas, car dies. Press the starter and try again. Plus the French pronunciation throws me off. They are very patient and kind and full of humor, so we are getting along well despite the lack of a common language.
The home, living quarters and workshop are quite a lot bigger than we imagined. It seems Carlos and his mother, Zoila (SOY-la), live here with Carlos' two boys, Sebastián and Miguel. Carlos' wife died of cancer two years ago, and Zoila mothers them. Zoila's uncle started this business many, many years ago. They transported everything to market by burro! It was a very hard life. Zoila still works in the business, but Carlos is in charge. They sell to many different countries and have dozens of styles of hats they make in leather, wool and straw. They also offer hospitality to many visitors, including us. Tomorrow Carlos is going to Otavalo to ship an order to a customer in Canada. Carlos and his mother both are extremely energetic people--they run everywhere. They are very concerned that we get the proper food (I am lactose intolerant to a certain degree, and Vincent is a vegetarian). We told them they didn't have to trouble themselves, we would eat anything, but they have put together quite a menu of possibilities for us.
I spent some time on the phone and the internet today making sure our mortgage would be paid, as we haven't tried the mail service yet and don't know if we want to. It was a day of catching up with small things. We went out for a walk in the town plaza and looked for chirimoya. Unfortunately, I was remembering the wrong fruit and we got some (somewhat sour) maracuyá instead. It's an interesting fruit--to open it, you smash the rind on a wall or a table, it cracks open and you scoop out the jelly-covered seeds from the center. The taste is similar to tamarindo.
I'm thinking a lot today of family and friends back in the U.S. As we tool around the country meeting ever more new people, I am missing the old friends, the grandchildren, Elspeth. Vincent is also missing hearing English spoken. He signed up for Netflix because of it, then immediately cancelled. One thing we are NOT homesick for is snow! We are hopeful that when we return in April, we will see all of you, but no frozen water anywhere. Water is much more pleasant not frozen or boiling!
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Thursday, February 26 Heavenly
We left early this morning by car, Carlos, Vincent and I to try out the baths (hot springs) in Chachimbiro, about an hour from Peguche. The road climbs and climbs and climbs! Carlos told us that the valleys around here (and they are DEEP!) are much warmer than the hill or mountain towns. That makes sense, I guess. We ARE on the equator after all, and the closer to sea level at the equator, the more likely to have warmer weather. My uneducated guess. Carlos said this was a back road, seldom taken, but these springs get more and more popular every year. On the weekends they are jammed, so we were glad to be trying them out on a Thursday.
Carlos is absolutely full of interesting information. We learned about African settlements in the deep valleys and indigenous groups in the mountains. The baths were clean, practically deserted, and warm. We spent hours lolling about in the water and saunas and ended up with a nice, hot shower. We decided since it was only 12:20 to try for lunch at home in Peguche, so Carlos bought some chirimoyas. Now, I have to tell you I like fruit. But this fruit was like nothing I have ever tasted. Sweet, soft, juicy with a somewhat cottony texture. If chirimoya was what Eve stole, I cannot blame her one bit! Vincent agrees. Nothing like it anywhere. From the outside, it looks like an underdeveloped artichoke with unindividuated leaves pressed together to form the peel. Inside it looks a bit like white cotton candy. Mmmmmmm!
Carlos drove by where the government is building a "city of education," Yachay University. Only the most accomplished students are allowed to attend there. Although there are quite a few classroom buildings and dormitories, it is obvious this is to be a show place for the whole country. The land being developed is enormous. There are unbroken fields for a lot of it, and a whole lot of large buildings under construction. As a means of developing a country, building quality educational institutions and attracting great educators and foreign students is second only to building roads and ports. Ecuador has plans to be great. We wish Saya good luck in getting admitted there next year.
Sulema had made lunch, as Carlos had hoped, and after lunch, we had a short rest, because Vincent was tired from the soaking, the sun and the warmth. I was less tired, so at 3:30 I went downstairs to greet Sulema's mother and the other embroidery worker who came to the house to deliver the blouses they had embroidered by hand that week. The colors and patterns and the rapidity with which they demonstrated their work were dazzling and mesmerizing. We simply could not believe our eyes. Every single pattern was unique both in color and design. I guessed that they might have been bored if the designs were all the same. The women here learn as children to sew and embroider, as I did when I was five. They have developed their skills much more than I, however, and it is a delight to see how proud they are of their creations. No embroidery machines for them!
After we bade them good-bye, our new hosts came to pick us up from Ilumán, ten minutes away. We were not too sad though, because we have arranged to come back Monday to watch the tie-dying process.
Carlos is absolutely full of interesting information. We learned about African settlements in the deep valleys and indigenous groups in the mountains. The baths were clean, practically deserted, and warm. We spent hours lolling about in the water and saunas and ended up with a nice, hot shower. We decided since it was only 12:20 to try for lunch at home in Peguche, so Carlos bought some chirimoyas. Now, I have to tell you I like fruit. But this fruit was like nothing I have ever tasted. Sweet, soft, juicy with a somewhat cottony texture. If chirimoya was what Eve stole, I cannot blame her one bit! Vincent agrees. Nothing like it anywhere. From the outside, it looks like an underdeveloped artichoke with unindividuated leaves pressed together to form the peel. Inside it looks a bit like white cotton candy. Mmmmmmm!
Carlos drove by where the government is building a "city of education," Yachay University. Only the most accomplished students are allowed to attend there. Although there are quite a few classroom buildings and dormitories, it is obvious this is to be a show place for the whole country. The land being developed is enormous. There are unbroken fields for a lot of it, and a whole lot of large buildings under construction. As a means of developing a country, building quality educational institutions and attracting great educators and foreign students is second only to building roads and ports. Ecuador has plans to be great. We wish Saya good luck in getting admitted there next year.
Sulema had made lunch, as Carlos had hoped, and after lunch, we had a short rest, because Vincent was tired from the soaking, the sun and the warmth. I was less tired, so at 3:30 I went downstairs to greet Sulema's mother and the other embroidery worker who came to the house to deliver the blouses they had embroidered by hand that week. The colors and patterns and the rapidity with which they demonstrated their work were dazzling and mesmerizing. We simply could not believe our eyes. Every single pattern was unique both in color and design. I guessed that they might have been bored if the designs were all the same. The women here learn as children to sew and embroider, as I did when I was five. They have developed their skills much more than I, however, and it is a delight to see how proud they are of their creations. No embroidery machines for them!
After we bade them good-bye, our new hosts came to pick us up from Ilumán, ten minutes away. We were not too sad though, because we have arranged to come back Monday to watch the tie-dying process.
Wednesday, February 25 Stirred with a Great, Big Spoon
Vincent came in from the bathroom very early this morning with an ashen face. No, it's not Ash Wednesday. He opened the door to our room, and two wild cats leaped straight from the bed in the room next door, sailed over the wall and onto the tin roof below. He was startled out of his wits. Carlos is not very fond of these two cats, but they hang out here, draping themselves over every conceivable surface. I am guessing that the tin roof is not very hot, as I see them lolling there as relaxed as rag dolls. The four dogs don't even give them a second glance.
After breakfast this morning, we helped Carlos cut out lengths of fabric. He has a very cool machine that allows him to roll lengths of fabric back and forth on a long table, making layers and layers of fabric. He can then use a power cutter to cut out patterns for dozens and dozens of garments at once. We didn't get to see this in operation this morning, every dress was cut out one by one, because that's what this type of fabric demands. We had a good laugh over my pair of scissors, which was so dull it practically gnawed through the cloth. My mother used to say, "I could do a better job than these scissors with my teeth!" I found a Fiskars cutter online to show Carlos which he found very cool indeed.
We had a Skype conversation with Megan and the others at the home office and then had lunch. We took a lot of photos, and took a walk out toward the Peguche falls. It was too far to go before dark, but we meandered through the streets and watched the city lights come on in neighboring Otavalo. We were charmed by the little boy playing soccer in the dusk shouting to his friends to watch out for the "abuelita," -- me, the gray-haired grandmother.
After supper, Vincent showed Carlos some of Riverdance and other Irish music on YouTube, as Carlos has a keen interest in music, especially traditional Andean music. With gentle coaxing, he was persuaded to demonstrate some of his collection of instruments--the quena, zampoña, bandolin and violin. He remembered going to Europe or the U.S. with handfuls of these instruments, giving them away before returning to Ecuador to avoid having to carry them. You couldn't do that now, he relates ruefully, they're much too expensive to give away!
It was so interesting to hear traces of Asian harmonies and structures in the music which has been brought forward from pre-Colombian times. Some of the instruments, like the violin, are European. The flutes and zampoñas are indigenous. You see so much mixing of cultures in formerly colonial countries--well, any country really, as the realities of conflict and migration intrude the world over, writing and rewriting music, poetry, painting, history, fashions and even gene scripts. One person told us her father was Chinese, her mother Ecuadorean. Africans marry Colombians and move to Ecuador, their children go to university and work in the U.S.
It's such a kaleidoscopic whirl--languages, cultures, colors, birds and plants, colors and tastes of exotic fruits. Sometimes I long for a quiet space in which to contemplate it all. Peguche is a really beautiful place. I can see why Carlos and Sulema love it. A big Andean music festival just finished here before we came, the Pawki Raymi. The big names in Andean music all come, and treat everyone to world-class music. Their daughter Saya wants to go to Yachay University (brand new, a government show piece mostly still under construction on a huge piece of land) to be an engineer. I wonder where her journey will take her?
After breakfast this morning, we helped Carlos cut out lengths of fabric. He has a very cool machine that allows him to roll lengths of fabric back and forth on a long table, making layers and layers of fabric. He can then use a power cutter to cut out patterns for dozens and dozens of garments at once. We didn't get to see this in operation this morning, every dress was cut out one by one, because that's what this type of fabric demands. We had a good laugh over my pair of scissors, which was so dull it practically gnawed through the cloth. My mother used to say, "I could do a better job than these scissors with my teeth!" I found a Fiskars cutter online to show Carlos which he found very cool indeed.
We had a Skype conversation with Megan and the others at the home office and then had lunch. We took a lot of photos, and took a walk out toward the Peguche falls. It was too far to go before dark, but we meandered through the streets and watched the city lights come on in neighboring Otavalo. We were charmed by the little boy playing soccer in the dusk shouting to his friends to watch out for the "abuelita," -- me, the gray-haired grandmother.
After supper, Vincent showed Carlos some of Riverdance and other Irish music on YouTube, as Carlos has a keen interest in music, especially traditional Andean music. With gentle coaxing, he was persuaded to demonstrate some of his collection of instruments--the quena, zampoña, bandolin and violin. He remembered going to Europe or the U.S. with handfuls of these instruments, giving them away before returning to Ecuador to avoid having to carry them. You couldn't do that now, he relates ruefully, they're much too expensive to give away!
It was so interesting to hear traces of Asian harmonies and structures in the music which has been brought forward from pre-Colombian times. Some of the instruments, like the violin, are European. The flutes and zampoñas are indigenous. You see so much mixing of cultures in formerly colonial countries--well, any country really, as the realities of conflict and migration intrude the world over, writing and rewriting music, poetry, painting, history, fashions and even gene scripts. One person told us her father was Chinese, her mother Ecuadorean. Africans marry Colombians and move to Ecuador, their children go to university and work in the U.S.
It's such a kaleidoscopic whirl--languages, cultures, colors, birds and plants, colors and tastes of exotic fruits. Sometimes I long for a quiet space in which to contemplate it all. Peguche is a really beautiful place. I can see why Carlos and Sulema love it. A big Andean music festival just finished here before we came, the Pawki Raymi. The big names in Andean music all come, and treat everyone to world-class music. Their daughter Saya wants to go to Yachay University (brand new, a government show piece mostly still under construction on a huge piece of land) to be an engineer. I wonder where her journey will take her?
Monday, March 2, 2015
Tuesday, Feb. 24 Pilgrims in Peguche
A morning of confusion and schedule changes. Albert and Magdalena drove us to Otavalo with their goddaughter, a cheerful woman who talked more than an hour without pausing for breath. We drove through the small town of Cayambe which is absolutely bustling with building fever. It reminds me of some of the valleys in northern California, very beautiful, mostly rural, not very far from Otavalo. I could maybe live here, I think, at least part of the year. (Very tentative statement here--not sure I could stand missing family and friends). Albert stopped so that we could try bizcochos, which were amazing with dulce de leche (like caramel). We arrived in Otavalo around noon, Albert picked up Romel, the country rep here, and dropped the three of us off in Peguche. Romel introduced us, promised to meet with us soon and left us with a charming couple who apologized because Romel had indicated we were coming on Thursday, two days later!
Carlos and Sulema, we soon discovered, are just wonderful people. We catapulted right into a full-scale interview lasting about two hours. They both speak a little English from their travels in the U.S. and Europe selling clothing and performing music. Their primary language is Kichwa, the indigenous tongue spoken by the Incas. As is typical with many indigenes, Sulema and her two daughters, indeed, all the women of the family wear indigenous dress. Carlos and his son and brother-in-law wear U.S. casual attire--t-shirts and jeans. Ironically enough, I learned that the indigenous dress of both women and men derives from Spanish costumes of two hundred years ago, when the people were still hoping to win their freedom from slavery. No one but historians knows this, of course, so the customs--and the costumes--continue.
The women's outfits consist of a long, slim white skirt with a black outer skirt split up both sides. This is supported by a woven and embroidered belt wrapped several times around the waist and tucked at the terminal end back into itself. The blouse is white, with frilly 3/4 sleeves and a ruffle around the neck. It is typically embroidered all around the neckline and both sleeves, sometimes also the ruffle. Their black hair is braided and wrapped part way around the braid is a thin, embroidered cotton ribbon. It is traditional to wear many gold chains around the neck and gold earrings. It is not real gold, of course. It was only real when gold was $35 an ounce. They wear sandals with a sling back and black felt uppers. The boys, I am told wear white sandals in the identical pattern. This outfit makes every woman look beautiful, in my honest opinion.
The work of this family centers around tie-dyeing clothing. Carlos' father is a weaver and Sulema's family has been into clothing construction for generations. The story of how they met is quite unusual. He was born in Otavalo, she in Peguche, two or three miles away. There was no chance they would meet in Ecuador. In 1994, they were both in Holland at an international fair selling Andean clothing. They met and the relationship continued to grow when they returned home. They married four years later and have been living in Peguche ever since. Carlos and she started their own business when they married, and they love what they do, love working together--in fact, Carlos' favorite part of the business (other than making sales) is the back-and-forth of creating clothing designs together.
Her favorite part is the way designing clothing engages her imagination and creativity. Their tie-dye shop is on the square in Otavalo, but most of their sales are for resale. They have some tourist business in the shop, but most of the sales from the shop are to the other vendors in the Saturday market, one of the most famous markets in South America. Their clients were mainly from the U.S. and Europe until 2009, when the Depression hit. At that time, Carlos had to work really hard to open up markets in South America. Their biggest customer currently is Chile, followed by Brazil and Argentina.
They both love the challenge of creating new designs, so they are ready and willing to create anything a client might want. They are both highly creative and very well-matched as a couple. As parents, they are admirable. Even their four dogs are chilled out. I've not heard one of them bark, and they don't cringe or jump on people the way so many others do. The day we arrived, one of their dogs was followed home by a small puppy who looked exactly like him. He was immediately adopted into the family.
Carlos told us that even though he has traveled throughout Europe, the U.S. and South America performing Andean music with a group and selling their CD's, he would not want to live anywhere else. He loves Peguche (it is a music capital), loves his work, loves having his family around him. I think he is the most thoroughly at home man I have ever met.
As soon as our interview concluded, Carlos engaged us in helping him resolve a quality control issue with the office in the U.S. After supper we all went up to his workshop to help with correcting the problem. It took about two hours, and afterwards, we fell into bed, thoroughly tired and happy. Vincent noted that of the four artisans we have interviewed so far, all four are strong couples. That either means that the family that works together stays together, or that for everything in the business to work, you really have to like being together.
Our room is small but very, very clean, and the mattress is a real one. We'll wait to find out about hot water in the morning. We feel like we've landed in a little oasis of kindness here. Symbolic of their love and their attitude are their children's names: Apawki, age 4 (son of sun and moon), Punllay, age 6 (star of the sunset) and Saya, age 16 (sweet memory). We are very excited to be here and looking forward to talking and working with them again tomorrow.
Carlos and Sulema, we soon discovered, are just wonderful people. We catapulted right into a full-scale interview lasting about two hours. They both speak a little English from their travels in the U.S. and Europe selling clothing and performing music. Their primary language is Kichwa, the indigenous tongue spoken by the Incas. As is typical with many indigenes, Sulema and her two daughters, indeed, all the women of the family wear indigenous dress. Carlos and his son and brother-in-law wear U.S. casual attire--t-shirts and jeans. Ironically enough, I learned that the indigenous dress of both women and men derives from Spanish costumes of two hundred years ago, when the people were still hoping to win their freedom from slavery. No one but historians knows this, of course, so the customs--and the costumes--continue.
The women's outfits consist of a long, slim white skirt with a black outer skirt split up both sides. This is supported by a woven and embroidered belt wrapped several times around the waist and tucked at the terminal end back into itself. The blouse is white, with frilly 3/4 sleeves and a ruffle around the neck. It is typically embroidered all around the neckline and both sleeves, sometimes also the ruffle. Their black hair is braided and wrapped part way around the braid is a thin, embroidered cotton ribbon. It is traditional to wear many gold chains around the neck and gold earrings. It is not real gold, of course. It was only real when gold was $35 an ounce. They wear sandals with a sling back and black felt uppers. The boys, I am told wear white sandals in the identical pattern. This outfit makes every woman look beautiful, in my honest opinion.
The work of this family centers around tie-dyeing clothing. Carlos' father is a weaver and Sulema's family has been into clothing construction for generations. The story of how they met is quite unusual. He was born in Otavalo, she in Peguche, two or three miles away. There was no chance they would meet in Ecuador. In 1994, they were both in Holland at an international fair selling Andean clothing. They met and the relationship continued to grow when they returned home. They married four years later and have been living in Peguche ever since. Carlos and she started their own business when they married, and they love what they do, love working together--in fact, Carlos' favorite part of the business (other than making sales) is the back-and-forth of creating clothing designs together.
Her favorite part is the way designing clothing engages her imagination and creativity. Their tie-dye shop is on the square in Otavalo, but most of their sales are for resale. They have some tourist business in the shop, but most of the sales from the shop are to the other vendors in the Saturday market, one of the most famous markets in South America. Their clients were mainly from the U.S. and Europe until 2009, when the Depression hit. At that time, Carlos had to work really hard to open up markets in South America. Their biggest customer currently is Chile, followed by Brazil and Argentina.
They both love the challenge of creating new designs, so they are ready and willing to create anything a client might want. They are both highly creative and very well-matched as a couple. As parents, they are admirable. Even their four dogs are chilled out. I've not heard one of them bark, and they don't cringe or jump on people the way so many others do. The day we arrived, one of their dogs was followed home by a small puppy who looked exactly like him. He was immediately adopted into the family.
Carlos told us that even though he has traveled throughout Europe, the U.S. and South America performing Andean music with a group and selling their CD's, he would not want to live anywhere else. He loves Peguche (it is a music capital), loves his work, loves having his family around him. I think he is the most thoroughly at home man I have ever met.
As soon as our interview concluded, Carlos engaged us in helping him resolve a quality control issue with the office in the U.S. After supper we all went up to his workshop to help with correcting the problem. It took about two hours, and afterwards, we fell into bed, thoroughly tired and happy. Vincent noted that of the four artisans we have interviewed so far, all four are strong couples. That either means that the family that works together stays together, or that for everything in the business to work, you really have to like being together.
Our room is small but very, very clean, and the mattress is a real one. We'll wait to find out about hot water in the morning. We feel like we've landed in a little oasis of kindness here. Symbolic of their love and their attitude are their children's names: Apawki, age 4 (son of sun and moon), Punllay, age 6 (star of the sunset) and Saya, age 16 (sweet memory). We are very excited to be here and looking forward to talking and working with them again tomorrow.
Monday, Feb. 23, 2015 Faithful in a Little
Writing, writing, all day. Magdalena teased, "I think you are more interested in writing than visiting the workshop." Not true, but deadlines definitely loom large in my mind, and today is the deadline, both for the artisan interview and for the weekly report. Tomorrow we leave for Peguche. I feel so comfortable with Magdalena and Albert, I don't really want to leave. At supper tonight, they expressed so much kindness, welcoming us to come back to visit any time. We returned the invitation in a heartfelt way.
Their son Fernando has a birthday today, and they kindly included us in the modest celebration. His response: "Muchisimas gracias!" This just totally sums up this week here. Incredibly hard-working, dedicated, gracious and hospitable, they are nevertheless grateful for their family, friends, their business, and the opportunity of a new day. We have to leave early in the morning tomorrow, Albert is driving all of us to Otavalo, as has an errand there, too, and it fits into his schedule, or more likely, can be made to fit. What a blessing they have been to us, and teachers as well. If we keep on being faithful in the little we know to do, the road will open out and offer us more opportunities than now we can imagine.
Their son Fernando has a birthday today, and they kindly included us in the modest celebration. His response: "Muchisimas gracias!" This just totally sums up this week here. Incredibly hard-working, dedicated, gracious and hospitable, they are nevertheless grateful for their family, friends, their business, and the opportunity of a new day. We have to leave early in the morning tomorrow, Albert is driving all of us to Otavalo, as has an errand there, too, and it fits into his schedule, or more likely, can be made to fit. What a blessing they have been to us, and teachers as well. If we keep on being faithful in the little we know to do, the road will open out and offer us more opportunities than now we can imagine.
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