Day 3: On Leaving

One of my great disappointments of this trip is seeing a woman who should have left last November still in the prison. Last summer when I talked to her she was all chatter about being released and getting her paperwork in order. She was planning to move back to the jungle to live with her father and work in his shop. She was hopeful and excited. And she’s still here.

Another woman was supposed to be released last January, then in the summer she told me November. I found out yesterday that she was released a week ago, meaning her release was delayed by over a year.

Yet another woman still hasn’t received her sentence. Every time I come she tells me that she should be released in a few months, since her lawyer think her sentence will be less than her time served, which is going on four years.

And every trip there are more like this. When the women talk about their release, there is a mixture of excitement, anxiety, fear, and hope in their voices. They all know their date- June of this year, April of another, but what happens when those dates come and pass and the women are still in prison? What happens to those emotions? Do they intensify? Are they replaced with frustration? Waiting?

When I ask the women about their postponed release date the answer is usually, “I don’t know” or “there is a delay with my papers”. If I press on about the delay, the answer is a shrug. It is becoming clear to me that there is little accountability in the the justice system and those handling the women’s papers. I’m not sure if it is because the people aren’t being held accountable, if there simply is no system of accountability, or if these women aren’t important enough to care about it.

What I am sure of is that it is an injustice to keep the women in the prison a day longer than they are sentenced, especially given the severity of the sentencing laws for non-violent crimes. What we as an organization can do about this is still unclear to me, but I am grateful that we are here to give the women work and classes so that they at least have something to look forward to while they wait.

Day 2: Authorized

Walking up to the prison this morning I had a bucket full of worries about getting in. Would they let me in with my measly received stamp? Would they confiscate my class materials? Would the director be there or would I be forced to wait another day? All of these worries clouded me as I stepped into the prison and was greeted by a stone face new guard I hadn’t met who took his job very seriously.

As it turns out, my received letter wasn’t’ that convincing and the guard made it a point to call the administration for clearance to let me enter. While he was doing this, another guard recognized me and began yelling at him about how I was okay to enter because I was from the NGO Ruraq Maki. Her persistence paired with the administration’s authorization meant it as smooth sailing through the metal detector (with my supplies) and pat down.

When I arrived at the Director’s office he was there and greeted me cheerfully before confirming that everything was fine with my Plan de Trabajo and the new Director of Organo (I still have no idea what this guy does) would write up my permissions. Enter Dr. Castro, a wonderful administrator who made the process extremely easy and stressfree. And, drum roll please, I even have my authorization papers for my next trip! This mean in 6 months I won’t be scrambling around to get my papers day one and two and can begin classes right away. Let’s hear it for more program days!

Even though the process was the simplest it has ever been, it still took an hour and half so the women and I decided to hold off starting the class until we had a full day. Fortunately, I have their papers ready and we can start at 9:30 on Thursday morning.

While with the women we continued working on the pricing for the manta. I had made a draft price list and we went over it and tweaked the amounts based on the cost of the manta. Later, when I got home, I checked these prices against the fair trade calculator and raised the prices to meet a fair trade standard in Peru. I’m excited to give the women the final prices on Thursday because they already agreed that the pricing was very good, and now it is even better with the fair trade standard!

Thursday we get started on the metal stamping class, which will be cross between a jewelry workshop and putting business strategies to practice.

 

Day 1: Manta, Manta, Manta

My first day in the prison was a moderate success. The least exciting part was trying to present my papers to the prison director who was not there today. Instead, I left my Education Plan with his secretary in exchange for a stamp that confirms the papers were received. In theory I should have my authorization papers tomorrow, but it is likely I won’t receive them by the end of the week.

Fortunately, not having paperwork had no bearing on me visiting the women! Ruraq Maki has been accepted to the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, a 3-day market dedicated to preserving and celebrating traditional crafts from around the world. We will be selling embroidered products from the prison, including tote bags, cosmetic cases, and entire mantas. Over 20,000 visitors attend the market and the event will be a wonderful opportunity to display  (and sell) the work of the women.

One of the best parts of our acceptance is that it means a big order for the women in the prison. Not only will we be working with the women in our programs, we will also be extending our order outside our programs as we will be purchasing manta from many women in the prison. Due to the size of the order, I spent most of the day talking about order logistics.

A light blue manta with 4 rows of curros and Ayacuchan style embroidery

A light blue manta with 4 rows of curros and Ayacuchan style embroidery

Most notably, I received a crash course in manta. Apparently there are more types of manta than I can count. First, you choose from two types of weave, a thicker weave and a thinner weave. Next, you choose the number of curros, woven figures, on the manta. The number can range from zero rows (simple) to 9 (the most expensive).

Next, you chose from two embroidery styles- embroidery from Ayacucho or from Huanta. Finally you select your color. Mantas come in white (traditional), black, pure black, light blue, dark blue, grey, and brown. With so many choices, the options are endless, and I spent a good chunk of time trying to arrange an order that would encompass a wide range of styles and price ranges for the fair.

In the coming week, women will sign up for which mantas they wish to produce and will have until mid-March to complete the order. Ruraq Maki pays fair trade prices for the manta, so the women will be earning more than 5 times as much for the manta as they do in their local market.

In addition to the whole mantas, we are also ordering bags and cosmetic cases, which will result in even more embroidery work. This will be the biggest order we have ever placed with the women. We are so thrilled to offer this opportunity to the women!

After working out the order logistics, I spent the rest of the day chatting with the women about the metal stamping class and the day to day activities in the prison. Tomorrow I return to do more order coordination and *fingers crossed* start the metal stamping class!

An Ode to Superheroes

An ode to superheroes | Ruraq Maki celebrates the women who bare the never-ending job of being a mother

With Mother’s Day on the horizon, I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be a mother. In truth, I don’t know; I’m not one. But over the years I’ve watched the women we work with being mothers. I’ve seen them pour everything into their families and seen the central role, the foundational role, that their children play in their lives.

Watching them, I’ve come to understand that being a mother is hard. It is the hardest, most arduous job one will ever have. The task of raising children is relentless. There are constant needs, constant tears, constant expenses, and constant struggle, especially for those living in poverty. Saying the women work hard is an understatement – they are in a perpetual state of work. It is what they do – day in, day out – with the hope of giving their children a better life. 

Yet, in the midst of the constance of motherhood, they are joyful. How can it be that while a 3-year old wails into her skirt and a is baby strapped to her back and a 5-year old yanks her arm refusing the walk, that she still smiles? How are giggles entwined with hauling sacks of potatoes from the campo or embroidering 12 hours a day? How do they find time for happiness?

What I’ve learned from the women, and especially about motherhood, is that in the most difficult, the most grueling, the most exhausting tasks, there is a deep well of love that serves as the headwater to joy. Love for their children propels them through the muck, gives them the strength to carry on, and provides the energy to be happy. What a blessed thing it is – to hold a well of nourishment so deep that it is unshakeable.

Although cliche, I can think of no better way to put it – mothers are the superheroes of our time. Not because of their strength, their determination, or their unwavering abilities – for their love. A love that is the backbone of everything they do. Every beautiful, mundane, and transformative action that they put into the world.