Cultural Survival at Tiverton, RI

The sun was shining, the temperature was mid-70's and the crowds were out and shopping.

Before we were set up, a couple came to the booth. A big burly man and his wife were excitedly asking questions about the ostrich eggshell jewelry. "We didn't get a form yet, they told me. Will you put this necklace aside? We'll be right back." The bazaar hadn't officially opened and so a volunteer wasn't yet set up to hand out purchase forms. They had to hunt one down.

Now, we all know, the first rule of sales is not to let your customer out of your sight. I should have gotten them a form, but I had more to put out and it's the type of event that draws people who are supportive, so I put the necklace aside and let them go.

A flood of women came by. Chatting, pointing, touching everything they could reach. A flurry of buying and I knew it was going to be a good day. One woman, there's always at least one, befriended us right off the bat. Peter says I draw it out of people. I don't know about that. But she was very friendly and spent a great deal of time in our booth. At some point, someone else needed our attention and after waiting on those customers, she was still there. "I'm waiting to see if that woman is really buying that necklace." she confided in me. "I will buy these things but if she puts that necklace back, I want it." I had to smile. "Another woman took a necklace right out of my hand and bought it!" she told me indignantly. I apologized. "Oh no. It's not your fault. I just didn't move fast enough." Gotta love that!

The "other" woman did decide on another necklace and my new-found friend snatched it up. "Write me up before she changes her mind!" she and I conspired. One day, she'll email us about going to Botswana. I just know it.

The rest of the day brought interesting conversation, some die-hard and new fans of marula oil. I brought black soap products and a couple bought several bars of soap saying they didn't know you could get it in the USA!

Toward the afternoon, a young woman came by the booth. At first, I noticed her lingering just beyond and when her companion (her father?) caught up with her, she whispered to him, "I think it's her." She approached me with such eagerness I met her halfway. "We met at your house in Ghanzi." she began. I tried to place her - was she a Peace Corps volunteer, a wayward tourist, a friend of a friend... As she continued to describe our meeting, she finally saw recognition in my eyes and told me her name. "Of course." I said and it was like we were long-lost friends. In reality, we had only met once for less than an hour. She had come with our friend because their car was broken down and we never heard from or had seen her again - until yesterday...

Several people had come by surprised we were from Cold Spring - we were nearly 5 hours from "home". One woman goes to church with my mom and aunt. Another is working in Garrison at an acquaintance's home. Such a small world, made smaller by a common interest - fair trade.

We don't make a tremendous amount of money at these Cultural Survival Bazaars, but we have made some good good friends, some supportive customers, and some great connections. And the beauty of the work, the surroundings, and the many people who make the event a "success" is a great enough reason to keep going. . . going to the events but also keep going with the sales and awareness of fair trade products.

In the Spirit

The Spirit of Women's Annual Meeting played host to us last week in Washington DC. Our participation came out of the Snowmass Institute in Texas after meeting Spirit of Women's founder, Tanya Abreu.

Coincidences, Good Fortune, Wishes Granted...call it what you will, the universe guides us with gifts of plenty.

First, Tanya invited us to set up a cash and carry booth, wanting to expose the participants of SoW's Annual Meeting to fair trade and us to over 200 hospitals with gift shops spread out throughout the country. I couldn't go at first, since I had signed up to teach a summer camp that fell during this week. I tried to work out many different scenarios so that Women's Work would be there even if I was not...but in the end, my course was cancelled and I was able to attend.

Second, with sales in the shop so low the past few months, I had to wait until the last minute to buy more product. I ordered various things and prayed they would arrive on time. The paper beads didn't show up until after we'd left for DC and they were sent to my store instead of my home. This turned out to be a stroke of good luck since I had cleaned the store out of every last paper bead and now at least there were long strands and chunky necklaces for the Cold Spring shoppers.

Third, sales were horrible and I was losing sleep. Having to try to make money to pay bills, I had very little time to work on the book. Wanting to get out from under the pressure, I cried, wrote in my journal, and finally talked to Peter about what we were doing and where we were going. We decided I should try to spend as much time as I could writing my book and he would work in the shop. He was determined to sell the $10,000 wagon wheel table handcrafted from Zimbabwe which would pay off a lot of my credit card debt. He didn't sell the table that day, but we were given a very nice gift from his father - out of the blue and without provocation he wrote us a check for the "magic" number...

Four, Peter didn't sell the table, and I didn't write the book. When he got home, I told him why I didn't get anywhere with it. I couldn't/wouldn't write about our time on the game reserve. I didn't really see it as MY story. I knew it was the part of the book that would be "sexiest" for an agent to sell, but I just didn't see how it would progress the story of the women...and that's when Peter said it, "If I were writing this book, I'd be able to write it." Bells, whistles, angels sang from on high. Yes! He would be able to write about the 10 foot escaped croc he wrangled, the 15 foot python that sunned itself across the roadway, the elephant hiding behind a skinny thorn tree, President GW Bush slipping him a donation after he took Colin Powell and Condeleezza Rice on a game drive. So, that's when we decided to do a he said/she said book. Brilliant plan and do-able for both of us, but an idea that wouldn't come to fruition until we were both ready.

Five, on our way home from DC, Peter and Markham weren't feeling well. We decided to stay over at Leon's. I called and Leon said he was going to Peter's brother's for the girl's birthday. We've missed most of their birthdays - living in Africa, going to Africa for the summer, so it was great to just stumble onto their celebrations and share their special day.

Things most definitely happen for a reason. One last example, occurred over the past two days. My aunt had postponed surgery time and again, fearful of the procedure and of what the Dr. might find. She finally made an appointment but it was for a Thurs - Thurs are the days I work in the store and I would be the one to drive her. Not wanting to give her another excuse, I said I'd take her (anyway) and I'd just have to find someone to work for me.

As luck would have it (since I'm broke and can't really pay someone else to work), the Dr. rescheduled for Tues and I was able to take her to her appointment with no extra expense. But I must say, after several days of being away from home and taking the weekend Off from work (sort of), I'm frazzled. I have three projects coming up that I play an integral part in and so much other work to do...but I need to be with my aunt and so everything else has been squeezed in between dropping her off at the hospital, visiting her in recovery, picking up my mom to go see her, picking her up the following day and filling her prescription before heading home.

All that AND my husband has had a fever for three days now and hasn't been able to help with laundry, grocery shopping, food prep or care of the kids. My son has been throwing up, has a fever and a bloody nose. Between their two fevers and his bloody nose, I've been doing laundry, laundry and more laundry - fingers crossed, I too don't get sick! Hectic is an understatement for my life since DC, but I've been able to juggle things and I'm trying very hard not to freak out.

But back to my aunt...she was frightened to enter the hospital. So much so, she even made sure she saw her nieces and nephews "just in case". I can't help but wonder what she's afraid of? It's a minor procedure - thyroid removal and a biopsy. She is an extremely religious woman - carrying rosaries in her bag, reading from the bible all day long, praying constantly, going to church EVERY DAY, participating in bible study several times a week. Doesn't that kind of faith dictate a life without fear? Don't you then believe that "God" will take care of you?

I am not religious in an organized way. I actually shun Christianity and Catholicism in particular. But I am deeply religious in that I believe there is a higher universal power. I may falter, but for the most part (lately), I have been fearless. I see my life as blessed, that I am being taken care of, that I am given what I need which most of the time is also what I want.

The spirit (of women, but no exclusively so), is all around me, guiding me, comforting me, shielding me. If I turn to a good book, it is a Deepka Chopra book, not the Holy Bible. If I speak to a higher force, it is usually a collective being or on some occasions, my older brother or my father who have passed on. If I feel crazed, I know I can manage because I have faith, faith that my life has a purpose, a greater purpose than one that serves just me, faith that I am worthwhile and therefore, I have faith that everything will work out in the end.

Times they are a changing

I spent Tuesday evening going from store to store looking for a dress for my daughter's Moving Up ceremony. For those without kids, moving up ceremonies are when kids change schools - elementary to jr. high, jr. high to high school. Where did the time go?
I reluctantly encouraged her to find her own dress (with my approval or should I say guidance) only saying no to one dress she only half heartedly asked for since she knew full well I wouldn't let her go out in THAT! But we had fun. We eventually found a dress that fit her very slim figure and my sense of appropriateness...a made-in-China shiny thing that as a fair trade vendor made me shudder, but we bought it and left the mall happy.
As she twirled and primped and blabbered away, excited by the Dinner Dance that went with this coming-of-age which includes a "boyfriend" which I write here in quotes, but shouldn't be since they hold hands and kiss on the lips hello and good bye...I realize, my daughter has grown up.
She is nearly as tall as I am. I have trouble deciding which flip flops are hers and which are mine (no problem with shoes, though since she wears cutesy ballet flats and I wear Merrill's). Peter and I pull g-strings from the laundry and I shudder at the thought that she feels the need not to have panty lines!
But for the most part, it's been a smooth transition, this baby to teen. Macallan's made it easy...or have I grown too?
In Africa, it is said that San bushmen children don't cry. There are may implications but one that was explained to me was that if they did, a predator (not the predators we think of here that sexually molest children, but a lion or hyena or a leopard) may get them. Another theory is that life is so hard, the San try to make the first few years easy so they make sure the child doesn't cry.
I don't know the answer, but I know I heard plenty of San children crying and saw many parents hitting them. Times change and so must we.
My ideas of having children quickly changed when I had them. The plans I had, the idealist views...children taught me to be flexible. Africa taught me to be prepared.
With my store, my latest baby, I've watched her grow too. I only go in twice a week now, working from home so that I can be with my biological children. Just like with my kids, I have people I trust to take care of them when they are not with me (Portia has been a godsend as store manager and now Stephanie will be on hand to help out too). I have to let a little of my influence go and trust I've laid the groundwork for good work.
I see the store in her teen years, much like Macallan. They both look me in the eye and show me their indepenance, their strengths and their inner and outer beauty - somethings I rightly take credit for and somethings I can just sit back and look at in awe.
I received a message from a woman who stopped by the store this weekend. She LOVED everything about it and had a great idea...I get these calls I'd say once a week, much like with Macallan. I get told on a regular basis just how special she is. Now, I'm the store and Macallan's "parent" and I take those compliments to heart. But I know I only deserve some of the credit. I brought the store to life and gave life to Macallan, that I will take credit for. But what they did with that 'life" was totally up to them and for that I just sit back and enjoy with wonder.
Times change and so have we. There was a time when I feared the time when my daughter would be old enough to date, when the store would be old enough to have a following. But I don't fear that any more.
Their growing up allows me to free up my energy, to grow as well. I can let them grow, let them go.

No Mickey Mouse Operation

How often do you act without thinking, go with your gut, and follow through?

Fear, much to my dismay, rules me, like a storm. I try to conquer it, but once you hear the rumblings, the doubt, she's like that bolt of lightning collecting energy, ready to land her blow - KA BOOM!

Not this time. A few days after the Snowmass Institute, I got a call from Tanya of Spirit of Women. "I'm ready to board a plane, but I was thinking...we're having this heart health conference in Orlando next week, why not come Tuesday, I'll be free for a bit in the afternoon, I'll have time on Wed and you can be back on a plane home by Wed evening."

"OK." and off I went.

I got there between rainfalls - overcast and threatening, but I was in Florida - all by myself.

The last time I went on a trip without Peter, I ended in up in the middle of the Kalahari Desert about as remote as I've ever been or ever want to be...and yet, I was far from alone and far from "civilization". Actually, I had come home...

This trip, in wet, humid Orlando, deep in the heart of Disney Country, I was far from alone and about as "civilized" and over developed as I'd ever want to be...and while no great Epiphany struck me, the entire trip from start to finish was easy.

And because nothing went wrong - no stress, no doubt, no tornado hit the hotel while I was in the elevator - you know what that told me? The trip was a success and this idea Tanya and I have (which is still too fresh to talk about), is a good one.

...and a big one, one that's greater than the sum of us both...

The sales part of the trip was enjoyable and easy, although not a blockbuster, certainly. But the trip was for Tanya and I to get acquainted. And we were comfortable with each other. We shared ideas that almost too eerily were the same. It was like we'd been working in parallel, making plans for the time we'd meet and be able to work them out or when they'd work themselves out through us.

The Magic Kingdom - I never got there - but Rosen Shingle Creek worked her own magic on me.

The Big Time in Texas

After going to the Fair Trade Federation Conference in Portland, I saw that there's a whole big country out there that we haven't explored. Needing/wanting to take the crafts to another level, I was eager to get out there.
Women's Conferences would garner likely sympathetic souls and so I started Googling. I found three and emailed all of them. A few hours later, I got a response. Peggy Ireland said that she and her husband were so excited by fair trade, had wanted to get more involved and here I was! She generously discounted our vendor fee and was so enthusiastic, I told Peter, this is going to be great!
As time went by and the economy took an even greater nose-dive, I started to doubt my instincts. Elation turned to dispare? Not being able to make my bills again in April, I wondered what I had gotten Women's Work into once again!
I scrambled to find other venues. If I'm going to go that far, we really need to make the most of our time, our money. I found a Green Festival at a nature museum. Seemed like a nice fit. We tried contacting other stores with limited luck in even talking to anyone - man, are we bad at sales! We crossed our fingers and hoped we weren't making a mistake.
Swine Flu - first death - Texas.
We didn't take the news as badly as some, but in the backs of our minds we had to think about it. While in Texas, the first event was not only hampered by news media urging people to stay home, but a violent storm that stayed back for several hours before dumping over a foot of rain on the Earth-Friendly event. We were indoors -we were OK. We even got to see a snake lay eggs. So cool, but the sales were only so, so.
Once at the Snowmass Institute in the opulent Renaissance Hotel in Fort Worth, we were a lot disappointed when we learned there would be less than 200 attendees. I thought there were supposed to be 3,000! I tried not to freak out. But at this point, what could you do? As we started setting up another vendor came up to us. "What's Women's Work?" she asked. "Fair trade crafts from women." was my short answer. "Oh." she said and picked a space directly across of us. Turned out she was a recruiter for nursing staff - bet she thought I was her competition. No, she told me later after coming over many times to shop and buy, she knew that participants were always looking for something to bring home and we were the only vendors that had cash and carry. BONUS!
A different set up than other selling venues we've encountered, participants come only during their breaks from the conference (duh!) and so there was a lot of down time, at least theoretically. Reality was that we had no breaks because when there were no conference guests, we had vendors buying! Many came many times, so much so that we joked that a few of them were cut off! I'd have to say that the vendors made up a bulk of our sales, not to mention, inspiration.
As a result, they would direct the hospital administrators, heads of nursing staff, and others to our booth - we were quite the buzz.
At the end of our first day, after many people told us to connect with her, Tanya Abreu founder of Spirit of Women finally blew in. A tall woman with a presence that filled the room, she evaluated our booth and us in one fell swoop. "You two shouldn't be schlepping this around. You should have other people selling for you. I want you at our event in Washington DC." and it took off from there.
I love when people "find" us and it's their idea to carry our products or buy things with their own slant. A manager of a prosthetic breast forms company bought paper beads in pink for Breast Cancer Awareness month. Another woman wants the crafts to go into their women's center gift shops. And another will be in touch to buy crafts as a fundraiser for a women's shelter she is involved with.
Our very first conference and it was a huge success, but then, everything in Texas is BIG!

Celf Awareness

What an awesome program we participated in yesterday! Students and their teachers/chaperones came streaming into Pace University Gymnasium equipped with environmentally focused questions to ask each exhibitor.

We were asked to write our own questions, which Celf organizers tweeted. Goody Goodies were: How do you know you're buying fair trade, slavery free chocolate? What makes these soccer balls sweat-shop free and eco-friendly? Ask us how you can become famous just by doing something you love. Do you know the answers?

While many students typically came to get their answers and left without much thought, far more stayed and had more meaningful questions and I hope walked away inspired to seek out fair trade products, to make the world more just and fair, to do something they love.

And while we spoke to 1500+ students, Macallan sat in the High School auditorium to participate in Rachel's Challenge. Rachel was the first person killed by the gunmen of Columbine. Her parents, I'm sure, tried to piece together some semblance of meaning from her untimely death and now dedicate their lives to her memory and her unfailing human spirit. Seems in her journal entries (the very journal found in her backpack the day of the shooting with a bullet hole ripped clear through) and an essay written a month before, she shared her idea of creating a chain reaction of kindness and respect.

Her father developed a school program that uses Rachel's spirit as inspiration for students. According to Macallan, the presentation showed how in retrospect, they see that her life had culminated in her death. Only after she died, did they find a note she had written and taped to the back of her dresser. The note was an outline of her hand and inside she scrawled that this hand would one day touch millions. A man 1,000 miles away, kept having dreams. He finally contacted Rachel's father and described this image he had that he claimed had something to do with Rachel. That's when everything took shape - Rachel had drawn a picture of weeping flower. When the tears (13, the same number of people that died that day) hit the ground, more flowers grew. Her father knew then, that he had to do something.


If I am to follow my idea that clues are given to us and we must follow, I see my work heading toward impacting youth. Recently, old Scholastic buddies have re-surfaced on Facebook. There was a time when I lived and breathed educational materials. That was the job I loved and had to give up after having Macallan and moving to Garrison (coming full circle?). With me concentrating on writing my memories in the past few weeks, the regret lingers and holds strong. I loved writing for students. I miss it.

At the Trunk Sale in Brooklyn, two young women came to the sale. They have since come to me asking what they can do to help. And before them, a Princeton student contacted me wanting me to make arrangements for her to go to Botswana to apprentice under Kushonya (Master Basket Weaver) and also spend some time with ostrich eggshell beaders to learn that craft...Impacting students. I think I need to get back to that love and bring all of our experiences to a generation that can and will do something about it. Can and will make the world a better place.

My Life's Work: Women's Work

I've spent over one year and these two beautiful Spring days working on my book. I'm so close to having a finished book proposal that I'm celebrating with a little outdoor time and a little gloating.

Here is the premise of the book tentatively entitled: "My Life's Work: Women's Work":

Five years since that fateful day in the Kalahari, I sit here in NY with the same tears in my eyes. I know now what I couldn't’ have known then. I was given a gift.

Today, as the US economy fails, our friends and families worry about housing costs, savings, price of fuel, I feel thankful for the many lessons given to us by the San Bushmen. As perpetual Hunter/Gatherers, everyone today faces the same struggles as the San. The Gatherers pick up and make a home wherever the Hunters can find food, a livelihood. Like the San, a home is a temporary shelter that can be taken away by a storm, a fire, another person. The San believe the Earth gives us what we need and so whatever they have, they are grateful for.

From our adventure, I think people can gain some insight into life in a third world country, inspiration to follow their dreams, guidance to live simply, and if nothing else, spend a few hours being entertained by two naïve people running away from the rat race only to be blindsided into acknowledging the human one.

Not fair

I was feeling hopeful and so I started making phone calls. Two of the women I do the most business with did not answer their phones. I guess they are out of range. My ostrich eggshell contact (who shall remain nameless until I can employ her full time) has been out of cellphone reception for weeks now. I'm getting frustrated. I have orders to keep and my stock is dwindling to just a few pieces. . .

I called a woman who had contacted me weeks before. I had encouraged her to send me pricelists but still no email. I am desperate for stock so I give her a call.

She was wonderful - articulate and knowledgeable, spouting those charming phrases that to me and apparently 7 million readers who love Alexander McCall Smith No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency books find so endearing.

She worked "herself to death" with UNDP and other organizations in order to make "funds" to start her business. "How can one live knowing that others are sufferrrring?"(Setswana calls for "r" rolling that I just could never master.) She had "starved" so that her business could "live", she said, and "now with a recession, what hope do I have?" But she endures and with my kind help she hopes her sweat and tears will pay off.

How do you pay for the crafts that you buy? I asked her. "I have employed the women." She said frankly. "I researched and asked knowledgeable people how best to do business. I asked the women. And we all said, the best way to do business is to make everyone responsible. And so I employ women - at first there were 10 basket makers, now there are 6. At first I hired 3 ostrich bead makers, now there is one, with 2 that work part time. But if you have an order, we will work night and day, night and day for you to fulfill that order." I smiled, they would too. "I don't want you to do that." I told her. I would buy what they had if she can send me a pricelist and we can go from there.

So many people wanting to do what they can for others. She started her business "small in 2006." She said, "I strrrugggled for two years, only to be rewarded with a recession. Ah, that is life."

Familiar with her plight because it is much like mine. I too started the store in 2006, hopeful that I had great products and could fill a niche market. How could I fail? I was doing it out of love, out of a desire to help others? But a recession hit, hit hard. It's funny, coz I finally got a sign put up. Gorgeous sign (thanks to Todd Jones) so well worth the wait...but wouldn't you know it, the very month I had it hung, was the first month in nearly three years that my store couldn't pay for itself...

What does THAT mean?

It means that no, things aren't "fair" but it's up to us to make it less so. And that's what Fair Trade is all about...finding the best solutions to a more equitable existence.

Calling all No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency Fans!

Check back to find out the details for our No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency Tea Party.

We're gearing up for the latest release of Alexander McCall Smith's Precious Ramotswe series, "Tea Time for the Traditionally Built" due out on April 21. With ceramics from Botswana, Rooibos Tea from South Africa and the books available, we are planning on a party to bring Mma Ramotswe fans together.

American Idol and Women's Work

When we were living in Africa, we could have gotten satellite tv transmission, but we didn't want to spend the money. So, we asked our family to send us DVDs to watch. As a result, our children know Austin Powers movies by heart...good family viewing, right?!?
Since we've returned to the US, we religiously watch American Idol, particularly with our teenage daughter. I love that bonding and for what it is, you gotta admit, the production value is excellent. This is also our model for the TV show Peter is working on. Good family viewing so that grandma's and dad's will have something to discuss and enjoy together with their tough to please teens.
This year's show, more than previous years' is more about the singing and less about the human interest. But oddly enough, there were more single moms on the show than before-hmmm...
Last night, and I'm hoping I'm not giving anything away, Megan was booted off. Each week, this beautiful, bubbly, sweet tattooed young woman (I think she was only 23!) sang in her odd jazzy unique voice that often times did not work with the song choice (see, I could be a judge!), but she was beautiful and each week she hung on. What I noticed in her and another of the single mom contestants was that they were singing their hearts out but their hearts belong elsewhere. They missed their children. Each week you could see that heartbreak and as a mom, I thought, they are both saying, it's OK (which as Megan's exclamation last night as she heard the news) because she just couldn't wait to get home to her baby.
This is a show and a very well orchestrated show at that, but I believe the emotions of the contestants are genuine. I believe that they are singing for their careers, if not their lives, as is dramatically proclaimed by Ryan Seacrest. And so, I think they all realize what this exposure would mean for them as singers.
And with each of these single moms, I think they couldn't compete - not because they weren't able singers, but because their hearts were somewhere else.
This is the basis of Women's Work and every day I see the sacrifices women make. The importance our children have in our lives keeps us from fulfilling our dreams. Not that it's a bad thing - not that we who struggle with it resent it, at least I hope that's not what we feel - but our lives, values, priorities change with the birth of our children. For many of us, they will always come first.
I applaud the talents so many women possess and empathize with their choices to find a place for those skills within the values of caring for our children. Can Megan still sing? Sure she can. She just won't be doing it right now, away from her child for weeks at a time...

Facebook | My Links

Facebook | My Links

Women's Work Overtime

I may not be in the store much lately, but I'm definitely working overtime. Got to since sales are sooooo low in the shop.

It's been great because that one house party is still (after over a month!) bringing more sales outside of the store...hmmmm, wonder if it's telling me something...

We've done Greenflea again on the upper westide (across from Museum of Natural History). Was supposed to be a warm sunny day, wasn't, but still a good number of people shopping including Catherine Zeta Jones, Jack MacBryer (Kenneth from 30 Rock) and Christina Lahti with her really cool cattle dog. Sales were fine but we love the atmosphere. I miss the city.

We're off to Portland, Oregon for the Fair Trade Federation Conference and Expo. I sent out a mass mailing hoping to lure retailers to the Expo on Saturday. Would be great to wholesale the canvas bags and ostrich eggshell jewelry. I also thought it would be right up my alley to write again. Besides the memoir, I want to start writing about other fair trade vendors, particularly those that were in the Peace Corps and there are plenty of them! What is it that makes people join PC? I think they are unique and interesting people, but I know I'm prejudiced since I married one.

We're also preparing for the upcoming Dumbo Trunk Sale
April 4-5; 11-5; 20 Jay St.; Studio 310A; Dumbo (Down under Manhattan/Brooklyn Overpasses)

It's the First Ever Studio Sale at ModernPress, my sister's full service design/print studio (modern-letterpress.com)

Get gorgeous stationary supplies, beautiful samples, and find out how you can design and create your own custom invitations/announcements/cards with the help of Carolina Della Valle of Modern Press: a full service design studio and printshop offering letterpress printing, embossing, diecutting, foil stamping and last but far from least, laser-engraving and laser-cutting on a variety of unique materials.

Women's Work will be on-hand selling jewelry and loose beads made from- recycled paper made by women in Uganda, recycled glass and brass beads made by women in Ghana, ostrich eggshell from San Bushmen women in Botswana, batik bone from Kenya, and delicate clay beads from Mali.

We've got fabric pouches and totes from Uganda, mudcloth from Mali, kuba cloth from the Congo and handpainted table cloths, runners and pillowcovers from Botswana,
and I'm bringing linotype prints from the San and elephant dung prints from Zimbabwe...with more, much more...(womensworkbw.com)

Joining us will be Macallan and her full array of Goody Goodies Edun Live Organic T's, new elephant beading kits, and fair trade goodies sold by kids, for kids who are orphaned by HIVAIDS in Botswana, Malawi, Zimbabwe and beyond! (goodygoodies.org)

Come check it out.

I'll be in touch after Portland. Hopefully there'll be much to tell you about!

Women's Work on the Road

Business is slow. Interestingly enough, and proving my theory that there are still people who have money, furniture and larger pieces of art are still selling, but little things are not...

So, we are going to do NYC Greenflea on the upper eastside at least once a month and Golden Nugget in Lambertville, NJ here and there because the more people I expose to the idea and the products, the more I sell.

Another aspect of selling that we had not explored before, house parties. Our friends, Pat and Todd had a wonderful party the other night. Pat carefully invited a nice group of her closest friends and had us introduce ourselves via one of Peter's wonderful powerpoint presentations which Macallan contributed to. With her there to talk about Goody Goodies, the evening was that much more meaningful. The sales were great - selling more in a few hours than I did all week in the store! The evening couldn't be more perfect particularly because we were able to truly bring awareness about fair trade and the women we work with to like-minded neighbors.

The economy is also forcing us to resort to something I haven't done before. We're going on the road - OK, so we do the Cultural Survival Bazaars, but they are driveable selling venues. These are not.

The first Fair Trade Federation conference I will attend will be this March 27-29 in Portland, Oregon. I've never been to Oregon, but I loved Seattle when I was there for Scholastic before we had kids. It was awesome. When we were planning on coming back to the States, one of the places we fantasized about moving to was Washington State...Portland is supposed to be a lot like Seattle. I can't wait. But I can't go there without wholesaling our products, otherwise I can't justify this trip to myself.( http://www.fairtradefederation.org)

Then, we are going to Fort Worth, Texas May 7-9 for the Snowmass Institute's Women's Health Conference where I will be the only vendor selling crafts. The organizer is extremely excited about the fair trade aspect. I'm looking forward to exposing healthcare professionals to our products.

We hope to get more venues, but we're also booking a booth at the Sweetgrass Festival in South Carolina in June 5-6 which is in conjunction with the Spoleto Festival. Should be a blast!

Fair Trade at the NYIGF

In January, I helped prepare a friend's booth space and attended the NYIGF. It would be my second time to attend and my first to see what it entails to work the other end. It was an interesting lesson.
In this economy, I decided not to have my own booth. I had gone to Botswana this summer in the hopes of finding more wholesale possibilities and growing Women's Work beyond the storefront. I was able to find three producers including the pottery, the canvas and the skincare/natural papers/ceramics which all could be made at greater quantities. But after much deliberation, the show would have been an expensive risk that I couldn't justify.
While I think everyone I know that did have a booth was grateful for orders (any orders!), it was a slow show. What was evident as I walked around was that the Handmade section was busy with many first time inquiries and orders. Every time I went to visit my friend Harish and his wife Poonam of Sustainable Threads, a slew of buys would come. I was so happy for them.
At Pier 90, there were a surprising number of buyers out there - I don't know that I would venture there if I didn't know Project Have Hope was there. She was also located near Africa Now! a joint booth funded in part by USAID. Global Mama's was represented and so were various basket weaving groups, shea butter producers, drum makers etc, mostly from Ghana with many producers on hand. In cooperation with the Trade Hub, a store in DC was offering distribution of the crafts/products. So, at the show, you could either order from the producer directly or order from the shop. A perfect model in order to encourage sustainability in the African producer group and foster relations with a retailer. How do I get the producers I work with such exposure? I'll have to keep investigating.
Peter and I discussed where we were going with the crafts. With each new opportunity that confronts us, we take the time to look at all of the possibilities and try to remove our old prejudices and our over-riding egos. While my ego would love to do the gift show, the success of my business must rely on the realities...the world is going through a much needed downsizing, re-evaluation of values, and much needed check and balance. The producers can only produce so much - the last thing we want is a factory of ostrich eggshell beads. And what am I really trying to accomplish? The answer is evident, but the process is muddled. . . as clarity comes, so will my next posting.

Zimbabwe's Crisis Hits Close to Home

For those of you who have been to my store, you have undoubtedly seen the beautiful bead and wire creatures made by Bernard Domingo from Zimbabwe. Domingo had recently been given asylum and was working toward bringing his family here. As we celebrated Thanksgiving, he raved about the food, so much so that over the weekend, he said, "I will give you money for food and I would like you to make a meal like that for my children." Of course, we agreed. We all left for Boston for the Cultural Survival Fair Trade Bazaar where we had great sales and had a wonderful weekend. And as Domingo returned to Mt. Vernon, he got a call from his family. His eldest son who was suffering from Cholera had become ill once again. He was in the hospital over the weekend, but with so many people dying around him, Domingo's wife Veronica brought him home to recuperate...he passed away shortly after. Domingo called me and sobbed, "I'm confused." Asylum, which would bring his family to the US would also be the reason to separate them. He would not be allowed to return to Zimbabwe. "I want to go." He told me, but I said to stay. If he leaves and isn't able to return, all would be lost. I said I thought he should work on his paperwork and find a job and a home in order to send for the rest of his family. So many stories in the newspaper are about far away places that have no relevance in our lives...this one touches everyone who has been to my shop, making the world, her problems, and the people that reside halfway around her our neighbors, family and friends. http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20081202/wl_nm/us_zimbabwe_crisis http://http//news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20081202/wl_nm/us_zimbabwe_crisis

Another example of Women's Work Fulfilled

I wanted to jot down my feelings about this election, it's a momentous one.

As an American public, we had endured a long and grueling process, but a rather civil one considering...And with so many provocative twists and turns, the media certainly had plenty of fodder and as a result, plenty of airtime to fill full of junk.

I was a die hard Hilary campaigner in the beginning. Hell, can't have a shop named Women's Work and not be pro-woman! But when she lost the nomination, I grieved, but like many of her following, got behind Obama, resigned to win this election. How could we let the Republicans get in there for another four years? We couldn't.

And so, I threw myself into Barack Obama, who did not disappoint. After vocalizing all of the reasons why I was initially behind Hilary and not him - his inexperience, his preacherly way of delivering speeches, all fluff with no substance - he proved me wrong. As if he heard my complaints, shortly after being nominated for the Democratic ticket, he addressed my apprehensions and exceeded my expectations. Throughout the campaign, Obama would shine in my eyes compared to his Republican opponent. But for the very reason I wanted Hilary to win (the fact that she was a strong woman) is exactly the reason I was horrified that the Republican party would elect Sarah Palin as their VP.

It made me so angry to think that they really truly believed that this puppet, this airhead, this beauty queen-has-been, this hick, this seemingly religious fanatic ('coz it turns out she was just playing to the moral majority - anything to win!), this woman would appeal to American women! Indicative of the past 8 years of treating Americans as pawns, the Republicans truly thought she and this shell-of-a-maverick going by the name of McCain were their winning ticket. How absurd and that's exactly what the American public said on November 4th. I am once again proud to be an American.

As many of you well know, Peter and I actually met GW in Botswana. We hosted his visit to the game reserve when Peter was still park manager. He was a likable guy, not very presidential (good and bad), and definitely someone you'd love to have a beer with - but not run your country! And so, this election, our first since we returned to the USA was an important one for us. Toward the end, we took to saying, "Barack or Botswana." Markham, our son, asked me this morning (two days after the election), "So, does that mean we're not moving back to Botswana?" I happily told him Yes!

But I digress...back in Botswana, we made some great friends. We had children the same ages so our friendship came naturally, but also sharing the same values, we bonded. When this election started to take shape, as I stated earlier, I campaigned for Hilary. Our friend (who shall remain nameless since he still works for "the government") said he was taking his precious days off and going to frigid cold New Hampshire to go door to door for Obama. "Hilary's a screamer" he would tell me. Peter and I laughed his comment off. After all, he was critiquing a possible boss, not the same criteria we all would use to pick our President. But he did say something that made me consider his choice. He said he had been in the presence of greatness. Never in his life had he seen someone with so much charisma. It seems we all witnessed that same man toward the end of the campaign. The best person in my opinion had been chosen after all... .

..These are ramblings of a woman with her own platform (it's my blog, I can say what I want to)...and what does it have to do with Women's Work? I'll tell you.

Yesterday, while I was in the shop, I was closing up when a local gentleman walked in. He was starting to do his Christmas shopping and wanted to see what I had since he tried to buy as much as he could in town. (Good for him!) As he looked around, he giggled, "Got anything from His country?" I knew exactly what he was talking about. "As a matter of fact, I do." I said. He said, "You should put that in your window - something like, Yes you can...buy something from Kenya!" and so this sale started to take shape.

I had wanted to acknowledge the win and was toying with one idea and another...but this encounter was exactly the impetus I needed. I wrote some copy, made up some ads...1/2 Kenyan, sure! 50% off all things Kenyan. And it went on from there. As I wrote the copy I would formulate into a press release, I had the final connection. Women's Work would honor the woman whose efforts would one day produce a President...who was this woman? I was shocked to find out...

My new found inspiration (Barack) has led me to my newest and one of my greatest idol to-date (according to: http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1729524-1,00.html). Stanley Ann Soetoro was the working woman who would break molds, challenge convention, a practicing anthropologist, she not only studied cultures, but applied her practical altruism respectfully and effectively when setting up micro loans in Indonesia, exposed her children to the world, and gave them a positive outlook to see how they could make the world a better place.

As a mother of two racially mixed children, I wonder how my actions affect them. I often question whether Peter and my decision to leave America in 2003 was a good one or one that would scar my children irrevocably. I wonder what our self-afflicted although not entirely self-imposed vow of marginalized poverty will do to our children's values, and how they will understand our choices. In the end, like Obama and his sister, I hope Markham and Macallan remember our joys and pain, adventures and journeys as positive ones, actions/choices that shape their lives for the better. Who knows, maybe, from my work, my daughter or son will one day be president - or at least know that whatever they choose, their mother will be standing behind them, supporting them and loving them for who they are and have turned out to be...As I am known to say, that's women's work.

Women's Work salutes S.Ann Soetoro and thanks her for her many contributions to the the World...most especially, our new President.

Kenya Dig It? Yes We Can!

Despite his Kenyan background, his color, his inexperience, his rumored associations, the American public spoke and clearly said, "We can do it" and we did.

For the first time in American history, we will have a leader of color, not because of his color, but because he was the best person for the job.

Oh yeah, Barack Obama'a election touches all of us in unique and powerful ways. Read my next entry to get my full take and I'd love to hear yours. Enter a comment below.

And/Or come to Women's Work (storefront or website) throughout the month of November 08 to celebrate not only the results, but the working woman who raised him.

*For all of the single moms, seemingly single moms, wives, sisters, daughters, friends you know who work so hard to bring opportunity to their children, Women's Work recognizes YOU!

Barack Obama's Kenyan Father took off when he was just a boy -

So, we'll take 50% off everything from Kenya

and 25% off everything from Africa

for the remainder of November '08. *

Would Barack be the man he is today had his father stayed, who knows? What we do know is that with his mother's social consciousness, he is the promise for great change, for hope, for inspiration for us here in the States and many around the world.

Read this beautifully crafted article for more information about Stanley Ann - ( http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1729524,00.html )

Botswana at last

Hurry up and wait...that's exactly what happened. We made it to Botswana, ran around (thanks to Tony lending us his car and a place to stay) and we commenced to do nothing. OK, so we had meetings. We talked to Local Enterprise Authority several times, the Competitiveness HUB, USAID, Botswana Tourism, and many friends about our idea to market Botswana. We were so gung ho! It all seemed so promising from the States, but reality is a bummer and we didn't get anything more concrete than a handshake and business card.

Marketing Marula Oil was one of our main objectives. We have set the foundation for branding here in the States through sales, advertising and articles. Word of mouth had grown not only through my online business with plastic surgeons discovering that I carry the pure oil and recommending the "miracle" oil to their patients. Masseuses had found out about the oil and were buying wholesale amounts for use on their clients. And several boutique bath and body products used marula oil bought from me. I wanted to spend a lot of time with the women in Lerala, but it just didn't work out. There's something holding this product from expanding - production, funding, community infighting, personality conflicts, the list goes on and on and I'm stuck on the receiving end, not able to receive any oil! From my website a cosmetics company found the oil. They hadn't heard of it before and wanted to test its properties. Wouldn't you know it, the oil sample I sent them was old. The product tested poorly and they decided not to use it...if the community trust in Botswana could only bring their production up to par, they could do well for that entire community. I've got some on the way, but I was really hoping to rest my business on the oil and now I'm having to re-evaluating our relationship.

We were able to place an order with the famed Gabane Pottery. Martin and his wife Katherine have been steadily growing that business so that they have a nice group of women to help them produce the ceramics. Again, I was looking forward to getting these mugs to the US. There is a great need for fair trade mugs to go with the fair trade coffees/teas, and they certainly are beautiful. We have great footage of Martin taking us through the process. Can't wait to incorporate it into the TV shows we're working on. I ordered so much from them and all in the midst of the new President issuing a statement to all of Botswana Government Departments mandating that local producers be utilized for office supplies/needs. And so, Gabane Pottery was supplying many of the big departments with tea sets (Botswana's English rule until the 60's left behind rituals like high tea that is embedded in much of Bots' culture even today). From the look on Martin's face, I had very little confidence that my order would be done in the 6 weeks I had left in the country - but he provided me wrong. In the end due to many banking problems, I couldn't pay for the full amount and also couldn't carry the heavy ceramic mugs, platters, coffee pots and jars back to the States. It is the end of October and I still haven't been able to make full payment, resorting to Western Union since our bank in Botswana won't allow us to transfer money from the US. I still have no idea how I'm going to get 100lbs of pottery to Cold Spring, NY or if they'll make it.

I brought some in my luggage and have sold all of the mugs (at a loss since it cost so much to ship). A few pieces shattered - could it be from the air pressure or the valet who dropped my bag helping us to our car at JFK? Who knows? All I know is that I'm chomping at the bit to get the products I ordered and anticipated having in the store during this holiday season. After all, this was the reason for the trip, no?

Or was it? We wanted to have wholesale products to market, to do shows with/for and that just wasn't panning out. Knowing full well that if it wasn't coming to us easily, then it probably wasn't meant to be, we kept an open mind and tried not to stress over plans unfulfilled...what then? What were we doing in Botswana...we couldn't wait to find out.

Rover

I can't believe it's been nearly two months since we were in Botswana. Our summer in Southern Africa seems like years ago. I started this blog to catch everyone up on our return to Botswana, but with all that happened and is happening now, I just can't get it all down, and as a result, the blog goes without. . .I will try to write more often, particularly since I live, breath, and do things only in the name of Women's Work.

Let me start off from the beginning.

June 29, 2008 - South Africa

We wanted to save some money, so instead of paying the $300 more person to fly into Botswana, we landed in Johannesburg, South Africa. Our friend Tony was taking care of (trying to sell) our Land Rover, with no luck. Peter thought this was a blessing since we would need it...first of many things that didn't go our way.

So, we're at the airport trying to find out where our ride is and having a tough time getting any answers since our cell phones don't work in South Africa. There are actually telephone shops in the airport, not shops that sell phones, but telecoms where you can make phone calls but not on a payphone...something we don't have here. Anyway, unable to get a call out, Peter spent a lot of time trying to figure out what to do. The woman working in the shop felt badly for Peter. She even let him use her personal cell phone since we couldn't get through to Botswana on the regular phone. When we did finally get a hold of our friend, she even gave him her personal cell phone number and took messages for us. . . ah, the kindness of strangers.

Turns out, the Land Rover had broken down two hours away. Tony's girlfriend and a driver were worried that a car with Botswana plates broken down on the side of the road would be a target for car jackers. They couldn't get cellphone coverage to call for help or to call Tony and waited by the car afraid for their lives...how horrible for them!

We would not know any of this for hours. But when word finally got to us, we had to spend what we thought would only be one night in Jo'berg. Our new friend, the telephone salesperson finally called someone she knew who had a Bed and Breakfast.

We were on our way to a quiet charming bungalow. Macallan and I went first - Nepal, the B&B owner (from Nepal, thus the nickname) could only fit the two of us and some of our oversized luggage in his station wagon. Reassuring Peter that we'd be safe with him (afterall it was Jo'berg), we were welcomed to the B&B by the other guests, who helped us carry our bags. We were so tired, we actually slept in. It's cold because it's winter in Africa, so we bundled up in the blankets and fell right to sleep.

When I awoke, I found an amazing sight. With Macallan and Markham reluctant to leave their friends for the summer, this trip started off on a sour note. It didn't help that we were stranded...but this would make up for it all. There, propped up against the sliding glass doors to our room were two small dogs lying in the sun.

I had to wake Macallan, I just couldn't wait for her to see. We returned to Africa and were welcomed back by the very reason we left. The straw that broke the camel's back for us was our neighbor shooting our dogs. Feeling unsafe, we packed up and headed to the States, none of us saying proper good byes to the country we had called home. Now, returning for the first time, a dog that looked just like Macallan's dog Otse waited for us to awake. I cried watching Macallan being greeted by this dog, licking, whining, tag-a-wagging. The Land Rover broken down, us having to "make a plan" as they say in Africa, strangers to our rescue, and animals, animals, animals, all par for the course for Durkins' course in Africa.

We were home.

As I watched and took pictures of the crowd before me, a child shroud in brown, layered and hooded in mismatched hand-me-downs caught my eye. She was shy and reserved, not making eye contact with me or anyone else there. I wiped the tears from my eye. I wiped some more. What I thought was from the wind, dust and bright sun, turned out to be tears of realization, sadness and joy. I was sobbing and it would take me years to find out why.
Those tears were for the women I saw, the women I'd met along the way, the woman I would become. That child was the spitting image of my nephew, whom I had barely known before leaving him and all of my friends and family behind for a life, up until that moment was undefined. Now, I knew why I had come and what I had to do. My mission is to bring the sadness and the joy I felt on that day and for many days to come to anyone who would listen.
After many spiritual starts and stops, I have found my ignition. I have seen my life's worth and am grateful. That work is to be instrumental in making people aware of the kind of person they can become. That the world can be opened up for inspiration and know that many of you will unfold and follow. That there is a way each of us can make the world a better place, a place that we would love to be a part of and a place safe and nurturing that we can raise our children in. And that world doesn't exist inside or outside the United States, but inside us-each of us. A safe haven, harbor, home exists within us all.
Over the years, I've made many of you aware of the San Bushman's plight, introduced the idea that women around the world are struggling for/with the same things we struggle for/with each day--the wish to bring up our children ourselves, our way, with our values and concerns. The hope to provide nutrition, neutral ground free of bias, hurt and pain, along with enough resources to nurture them so that each child can grow up to reach their full potential. And because I firmly believe that this is a message I've gotten across to all of you, I know you will not let my dream of awareness and awakening and activism die.
If you wear a piece of jewelry, display a basket, recommend some marula oil or tell others about the work of women's groups around Botswana and beyond, if you never let a day go by without being grateful for what you have, knowing there are many without, if you see for a moment that you matter and we all matter and together we can make a world of great matter. And if for each day you are on this earth you believe that each breath taken, each word spoken, each deed done brings a benefit to us all, than my efforts will not have been in vane.
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