Signs

For whatever reason, I am slightly obsessed with signs here.

I have a fixation with the various versions of the “reserved seat” signs on buses/combis etc. They are all different. Of the four images (pregnant woman, mother holding child, elderly person, handicapped/injured person), the pregnant woman and the injured person tend to have their heads bowed. Are they ashamed? Are they tired? Whatever they are, they need a seat… but they’ll have to speak up to get one, since it’s not very frequently that people move voluntarily out of reserved seats on full buses. 

Portly person crosswalk!

In the mountains of Huancayo, about 8 hours from Lima, their crosswalk signs seem to be a little out of proportion, or then again, perhaps they have extraterrestrials. 

Children in Argentina apparently like to go to school; instead of sprinting across the street like Peruvian children are supposed to do, they skip.

Their moms wait with them at the bus stop. 

Their dads walk them to school. (This is the first time I’ve seen a sign like this that is clearly a man, not a woman or person-of-indeterminate-sex, walking the child to school.) 

Barranco’s signs announcing parks seem so happy and joyful (even if covered with black soot). 

Miraflores’ sign for playgrounds makes me snicker: while this essentially says, “kids’ playground”, my brain immediately translates this as, “place for infantile activities”. I can think of some other places that need that sign. 

I just like the sign that announces an official mototaxi stop. I don't know this for sure, but my guess is that Miraflores and San Isidro, two of the most affluent districts in Lima, have banned mototaxis. They are almost everywhere else in the city, and a super cheap ride when you need one. Miraflores & San Isidro's loss!

I love the signs for “pick up after your dog and put the poop in this receptacle”. I am not sure that anyone else has ever noticed them, though; we are on the constant lookout for dog poop on the sidewalks and on the grass. Simon is pretty good about finding it and pointing it out to us… and then getting really close to it to show us that he is not, indeed, touching it.

This is obviously a cattle crossing sign, which we’ve seen while traversing the Peruvian countryside… and here it is, in the heart of Miraflores, where there is zero chance of seeing a cow cross the street. It was put up one day out of the blue, which I noticed on my walk to Spanish class last September, and it’s been there for months now. I suppose it’s a joke, since it’s in front of a grilled steak restaurant. 

This one is a little annoying – it’s for a new ice cream treat from D’Onofrio, the Nestle division here. It shows two flavors for this cone: the strawberry one, “for her”; the chocolate one, “for him”. Give me a break; sexist ice cream flavors? Yet another knock against Nestle! 

Painted across the crosswalk at this busy intersection is a sign that says,  “4 out of 5 deaths that occur in traffic are pedestrians.” I actually stopped to read it while crossing the street, which was stupid move #1. But as horrifying as that statistic is, it’s not surprising, given how crazily limeños drive and how little regard is given to pedestrians.

I think this is supposed to be a woman pushing a stroller… but doesn’t it look like a vacuum cleaner? Who knew that vacuum cleaners got reserved parking spaces at McDonald’s? They should market that: “Take a break from cleaning and get a free Inca Kola!”

Paco and Rafael

Much of our time in the office is spent writing up artisan histories, documents that describe in pictures and words the artisan’s process of creating their products, and a “how to get there on the bus” document in case there are future volunteers who will make a visit by themselves.

While I want to share parts of what we learn, the sheer amount of info is daunting. My goal is to post a couple of relatively brief cuentos from time to time, but without posting the artisan’s entire story. If Sam gets back on the blogging bandwagon, perhaps he will share more of their stories there. Here are two for today.

Paco
After the business part of our visit to Yenny and Julio’s workshop was completed, Julio brought out his parrot, Paco, for us to meet. Among his many interesting features are the following: he goes crazy with jealousy if Yenny tries to hug or embrace Julio when Paco is within sight; he says “hola” when he hears the telephone ring; and, when it comes to matters of drinking, he is a Peruvian parrot through and through: he only drinks Inca Kola. 

Paco suspiciously checks out the gringos

Yenny, keeping her distance from Paco and Julio

Inca Kola, yuck! I mean, yum!

When we got back to the office and were going through older photos of Yenny and Julio’s workshop, I found a photo of pottery samples that Paco had wormed his way in on. 

Rafael
Rafael del Campo’s workshop is crammed into two rooms in his small home. 

He and his twelve workers even produce artesanía crammed into small spaces.

This worker is building tiny nativities in tiny bottles, in a tiny nook carved out of the pottery workshop

He has submitted paperwork for permits to build a second story, to expand the workshop, but expects a lengthy delay: “It’s Peru.” After he shows us his workshop and current orders, he shows us the stuff he’d really like to produce. And they are gorgeous, interesting, and unique. But for it to be affordable for a client like Global Gifts or Ten Thousand Villages to buy it, Rafael would have to experiment in ways to make them much lighter, by not using so much clay and perhaps altering the design, as the weight alone would make it cost prohibitive to ship. And to feasibly produce these in larger quantities, he would have to upgrade his kiln.

 

But these are such cool designs, and he would get to tap into his creative side... I want him to be able to do this instead of (what looks to me like) the same ceramic pieces that every other artisan makes. 


I suppose I should quit wanting a lot of the artisans to be able to follow their creative side into the unknown world of market trends and flighty consumer tendencies, and stick with the things that are proven to have a market and which pay bills on time, but I want them to be able to follow their passions and make a living at the same time.

What I have learned to expect from artisan visits

I will always underestimate the time it takes to get there, visit, and return. Even after a dozen-odd days of visits, I am still surprised when we are unlocking our door at 4 pm after leaving at 8… and only visiting two workshops.

The smaller the bus/combi/vehicle, the greater the chance of Simon getting carsick.


About half the time, someone crammed in next to us on the bus will take an interest in the gringo family and will ask us where we are going and why… and then they will warn us to be careful because that area is so dangerous. That really freaked me out at first but it’s happened so many times by now – with zero problems – that now I can shrug it off.


Other people on the buses will help us get off the bus at the right place when we are in unfamiliar areas, instead of us needing to somehow make our way to the cobrador and ask if we are close to Puente Benavides or KM 40. Our fellow riders also yell out “Baja” for us to make sure the cobrador and driver actually stop the bus.


If the artisan offers us a drink while we chat, it will be Inca Kola. It is fluorescent yellow, carbonated, tastes exactly like bubble gum, and is somehow the most popular drink in this country. It outsells Coke. I would guess it outsells water, too, since I never hear or see Peruvians ordering water, just Inca Kola. 


If there is dirt nearby, Simon is willing to stay and have us talk for hours.


When we ask the artisans about what fair trade means to them, they equate fair trade with Manos Amigas. They almost always talk about Yannina being family, that their asking prices are respected, their product samples are valued and not given to other producers to replicate for less money, and they are paid on time. Those seemed like nice but fairly unrevolutionary things when we started. But after hearing horror stories of people not being paid for months after an order was delivered (in one instance, after pulling out all the stops to produce an 18,000 piece order, one artisan had to be relentlessly persistent for one whole year, asking for his payment, until the company paid him), if at all, now I understand why Manos Amigas’ punctuality with the 50% advance and balance on order completion is so highly valued.

We will hear about negative experiences with two other exporters, stories that make me cringe and wonder at the fair trade certification process for exporters, as the exporters in question are members of the World Fair Trade Organization (as is Manos Amigas). When we first heard the stories we thought they were sad but anomalies. And now that we have heard variations on the same theme in nearly every artisan visit, we now believe them as evidence of how these exporters routinely act.


I will be humbled by the poverty that many of the artisans live in.


The photos are never as excellent as the real life experience was.


I will return to the office, daunted by the massive amount of information to turn into a story but excited that we are doing something that will prove helpful to Manos Amigas' clients and Global Gifts.