Despite being one of the main market days, there did not seem to be many customers at the market today, so I asked Doña Rosa if this was normal. She said that some Wednesdays, there are a lot of people, and others not. For this time of year, the amount seemed normal. In July and August, there would be a lot more people, especially children, because families visit during their vacation from school. "There's no one here. But it's always like this. Some days, you sell a lot, others no. But I'm always here."
While sitting with Doña Rosa, I witnessed quite an unusual transaction: A woman bought Doña Rosa's faja (belt), the one she was wearing! She paid $25 because it was handmade; I went with Doña Rosa to 3 different stalls that sold fajas (neither of us knew they sold fajas in the market, but the women at the neighboring stall told her where to find them), and she bought one that had been made on a machine for $8. Following the picture is the full story:
A middle aged blonde woman and her teenage daughter were looking at Doña Rosa's stall. The mother seemed interested in something, but Doña Rosa couldn't figure out what it was, so she kept showing her everything. The daugther was embarrassed and walked over to talk to me. Although she spoke minimal Spanish, the mother finally communicated through gestures that she was interested in buying a faja, but hadn't been able to find any. Not knowing there were any for sale, and wanting to please her customer who was insistent that she wanted Doña Rosa's faja, she took off her belt to show it to the woman (thankfully, indigneous women wear two belts: a plain one to hold their skirt in place, and one with a design for aesthetics). At this point, the daughter moaned, "Mom, not again! I'm not a part of this!" She looked at me and said, "She's done this before. It's so embarrassing." Doña Rosa was laughing as she told the woman the faja was handmade. She was really excited, and bought the belt. She didn't even try to haggle for the price. She then noticed me talking to her daughter and asked why I was in the market. When she realized I could speak Spanish, she asked if I would find out where the belt was made. She explained to me that she's been looking everywhere for a belt, but couldn't find any. I told her they were called fajas in case she wanted to find any more. We talked a little more, and they left.
Afterward, I expressed my shock to Doña Rosa, saying that must be the first time she's ever sold something she was wearing at the time. Much to my surpise, Doña Rosa said she has actually sold her belt and cinta (hair tie) before when customers insist that they want the one she is wearing. She seemed reluctant to do so, thinking it was odd they wanted something she was wearing. She said she used to sell the beads she wears as a necklace, but she had a pile of them to sell.
Later, Doña Rosa took me to Carmen Teran's stall so I could say hello to the mother of the family I worked with last time. Carmen didn't recognize me at first, which surprised me a bit. True, it's been 5 years and I didn't spend very much time with Carmen because her Spanish isn't great, but I don't imagine that many gringas visit her house on a daily basis for a month. Anyway, she finally recognized me and said that her daughters would like to see me. Doña Rosa arranged for me (in Quichua, the language in which Carmen is more comfortable) to go with Carmen back to Peguche when she left the market around 2:30pm.
I returned to Carmen's stall around 2:15 (not wanting her to leave without me). She began to pack up her stall, and motioned for me to help her. She placed all of the hats and purses into a giant plastic sack, which I held open. Then, she took down all of the ponchos and I helped her fold them and place them in a stack before she added those to the plastic bag until it was full. She filled 2 of the large plastic bags and then tied a sheet around the rest of the ponchos. She then began to take the metal umbrella apart and placed in its bag. A pickup truck with a tall metal frame, covered in cloth on the bed pulled up. Carmen said this was our ride, and shortly, the man began carrying all of Carmen's sacks into the truck. I helped carry the umbrella, wooden pallets she used to keep her products off the ground, and the small wooden stool she used to rest. In all, it took us about 30 minutes to pack everything up. On the ride to Peguche, Carmen pointed out a house that had not been there during my last visit and said that things are different now. She asked if I remembered where we were and laughed when I said yes.
When we pulled up, she hollered to Matilde, who came running up. She looked surprised to see me, and I'm not sure if she recognized me before Carmen called me "Kati" (cot-ee). Then it was back to business; we had to unload the truck before we could visit. After carrying everything down the path past Matilde's aunt and uncle's house to the Teran's home, Carmen called for Olga to come outside. She was also surprised to see me, but she seemed happy, too. Perhaps she recognized me more quickly (odd, given that I spent most of my time with Matilde), or perhaps it's because her Spanish skills are better than her sister, and she was simply more comfortable speaking with me. We visited for a few minutes outside, while Carmen and Matilde put everything from the market away. The number of kittens, puppies, and chicks was somewhat alarming to me, as they and their parents all scrounged for food and whined for attention. Olga joked that they lived in a zoo. Their second cousin, who is approximately 8 years old, came over but kept her distance from me.
Olga then invited me into their house for a visit. The front room -- where I spent so much time working 5 years ago -- looks basically the same. We walked through the middle room, where I had helped clean ponchos, and turned left into Olga's room, where she embroiders shirts. The young girl kept her distance, sitting on Olga's bed and never speaking to me, but always watching me. Olga sat by her sewing machine, tracing a design onto fabric to be embroidered later. I sat on the other side of the sewing machine, all of us with a good view of the TV in the corner, showing the soccer game. Olga said she has watched all of the games so far, and doesn't really care who wins; she just likes the games. When Ecuador plays, however, she cheers for them. Olga translated her statement into Quichua, and Matilda agreed before leaving the room.
Olga was tracing a design onto a small piece of fabric, on top of the same green binder I remember from before that contains all of the designs she has drawn by hand. The fabric seemed awfully small, and Olga said it is for a child's shirt. Olga explained that she has to trace the designs in pencil, rather than pen, to keep the outlines from running when the shirts are washed. She wished she could use pen, since it is easier to see in the dimly lit room. She said there is a new trend in shirts that only has a small embroidered design across the center of the shirt, but she does not like that style. She prefers the style with full embroidery across the top of the front, back, and both sleeves. Thus, that is the type of shirt she generally makes.
She showed me fabric that had been embroidered by hand but not yet made into a shirt and told me she had bought it because she is as fast or good at embroidering by hand. She explained that they don't sell these shirts in the Plaza, but in a store (not sure where). Because she is so busy making shirts, she rarely helps her mother sell handicrafts in the market, but declared that her mother is there every Wednesday and Saturday, and that Matilda often helps their mother.
She told me that she and her sister had both learned to weave when they were little. Their mom had taught them. Olga, however, prefers to embroider shirts. Carmen learned to weave from Olga's "abuelos because more people knew how to weave then." She said that her aunts and uncles also weave, but that everyone generally uses electric looms now. (Judging from the sound of the machines during my entire walk through Peguche to la Pana, I'd have to agree). She said that electric looms produce textiles much faster, but generally only men use these looms because they are difficult to operate and you need to be very strong to use them. She said no one wanted to learn to weave by hand because it takes so much time. Still, products made by hand are sold at higher prices. Everyone in the market seems to know that if a customer wants a handmade poncho, they send them to Carmen Teran.
The irony is that tourists loved the cheap, handmade products found in the Plaza in Otavalo, but the demand soon overwhelemed the supply. As artisans received more money from sales, they began to switch from wooden floor looms to large electric looms, and switch from family-based operations to hired workers. This allowed them to produce more products and sell them at cheaper prices, in order to fulfill the demand of tourists. However, tourists still want handmade products, so many vendors will tell them that their products are handmade (often while admitting that their neighbors' products were made by machines). Tourists are kept in the dark as to the methods and materials of their products.
No comments:
Post a Comment