Several years ago, I purchased a messenger bag fashioned from a Vietnamese rice sack. I can't remember where I bought it, but I do remember feeling pretty good about contributing to the life of a Vietnamese woman, which I had done according to the nifty bag tag. The bright orange bag still serves me well as it has through many adventures in these intervening years and even got a new interest when a Vietnamese friend of mine saw the bag and exclaimed, "Hey, where did you get that rice sack?" as she read out the words which had been beautiful, but indecipherable, to me until then. So, it wasn't just a nice story... it was a real rice sack. Now project ahead to the markets and stalls lining the roads from Nairobi to Ngurunit.
Large white sacks, approximately three feet long by one and a half feet wide, lie on the ground filled with the original contents or lie filled with anything that requires a good, strong sack: charcoal, beans, spices, beads. They lie upright filled with their wares or are spread flat on the ground as a protector from the dirt. They cover manyattas against wind and rain. Most frequently, one sees them strapped against a bicycle or a back. They are plentiful and clearly useful and strong. Privately, I start to marvel at the way they are re-purposed. Only once along the road did I see them being sold outright and, after this sighting, kept a constant lookout for them. I started pestering Steven to stop and let me get some sacks. He responded to my requests with the patient voice one uses for small children or the slightly deranged.
Steven's responses aside, I remained as committed as ever to owning these versatile sacks. I started imagining how I would re-fashion these sacks into something that would interest American women. Each day that passed, my mind kept churning. Kind Claudia became my sounding board. Nicholas Kristof and images of empowering Samburu women danced in my head. Finally, on the penultimate day of our Kenyan adventure, Steven pulled over on the side of the road, without warning, and said, "OK, get out and get your sacks and don't pay more than 50 cents for them." Thrilled to be turned loose and for the first time, alone, into a market, I quickly found a willing interpreter. Despite the looks from the Maasai women that universally translated into "crazy mzungu," I came away with three sack specimens. I could have purchased 100.
Now the task in front of me was to turn these into something, which is where Bree Norlander enters this narrative. Bree was well known in The Little School community to be an expert seamstress. Growing up as the daughter of an upholsterer, Bree has a commercial-grade sewing machine and sewing room in her home. She cleverly had turned some packing material from my move west into a sack for my daughter earlier in the fall. I explained my idea and asked her to work her magic on these sugar sacks. She developed the pattern, sewed two prototypes of one style and invented yet a second style from the remnants. Her skill and vision has kept the vision going for the Samburu Sugar Sack project.
Large white sacks, approximately three feet long by one and a half feet wide, lie on the ground filled with the original contents or lie filled with anything that requires a good, strong sack: charcoal, beans, spices, beads. They lie upright filled with their wares or are spread flat on the ground as a protector from the dirt. They cover manyattas against wind and rain. Most frequently, one sees them strapped against a bicycle or a back. They are plentiful and clearly useful and strong. Privately, I start to marvel at the way they are re-purposed. Only once along the road did I see them being sold outright and, after this sighting, kept a constant lookout for them. I started pestering Steven to stop and let me get some sacks. He responded to my requests with the patient voice one uses for small children or the slightly deranged.
Steven's responses aside, I remained as committed as ever to owning these versatile sacks. I started imagining how I would re-fashion these sacks into something that would interest American women. Each day that passed, my mind kept churning. Kind Claudia became my sounding board. Nicholas Kristof and images of empowering Samburu women danced in my head. Finally, on the penultimate day of our Kenyan adventure, Steven pulled over on the side of the road, without warning, and said, "OK, get out and get your sacks and don't pay more than 50 cents for them." Thrilled to be turned loose and for the first time, alone, into a market, I quickly found a willing interpreter. Despite the looks from the Maasai women that universally translated into "crazy mzungu," I came away with three sack specimens. I could have purchased 100.
Now the task in front of me was to turn these into something, which is where Bree Norlander enters this narrative. Bree was well known in The Little School community to be an expert seamstress. Growing up as the daughter of an upholsterer, Bree has a commercial-grade sewing machine and sewing room in her home. She cleverly had turned some packing material from my move west into a sack for my daughter earlier in the fall. I explained my idea and asked her to work her magic on these sugar sacks. She developed the pattern, sewed two prototypes of one style and invented yet a second style from the remnants. Her skill and vision has kept the vision going for the Samburu Sugar Sack project.
As Claud
ia and I use the two prototypes and test them for endurance, Bree works on translating the pattern into one that can be understood through pictures and symbols for any seamstress. Bree and I focus on the least number of seams to enable women with a knowledge of handcraft to be able to sew them. While I work on a low cost source for the bag straps, I feel pleased that this little project is moving forward. Ideally, with the sacks, materials, seamstress abilities, and a market outlet, we can turn this small idea into a meaningful source of income for the Samburu women. The need is more urgent than ever as the families in the Ngurunit area are suffering from drought with few resources to acquire food and water.
Laurel
ia and I use the two prototypes and test them for endurance, Bree works on translating the pattern into one that can be understood through pictures and symbols for any seamstress. Bree and I focus on the least number of seams to enable women with a knowledge of handcraft to be able to sew them. While I work on a low cost source for the bag straps, I feel pleased that this little project is moving forward. Ideally, with the sacks, materials, seamstress abilities, and a market outlet, we can turn this small idea into a meaningful source of income for the Samburu women. The need is more urgent than ever as the families in the Ngurunit area are suffering from drought with few resources to acquire food and water.Laurel
Photo: "Laurel gets her bags," Maasai market (Claudia Daggett)
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