The first time I traveled to Africa, I was working with the Vermont Service Corps, helping to develop a needs assessment study for a District in rural Uganda. One afternoon, as I was spending time in Kampala, the capital, I saw a sign that said "Zebra Crossing". I was so excited; I had never seen a live zebra before, but did wonder why zebras would be loose in the middle of major city. I kept walking and saw the black and white stripes of a pedestrian crossing ... ah, a zebra crossing.
That's what I love about working cross culturally; I have constant opportunities to challenge my perceptions of the the world and think about how others see me and my values. When I first started working with Menby's Design, the first producer that Creative Women worked with in Ethiopia, I sat down with Menby and one of the weavers. The weaver looked at the colors that I chose for a pillow and said to Menby, in Amharic, "I don't want to weave that. The colors are ugly". Menby, as only another Ethiopian could do, responded, "It doesn't matter if you like the colors or not; it only matters what they think in NY". Certainly better said by her, than me.
Sometimes I read it all wrong. Take the netela, a lovely, gauzy shawl that Ethiopian woman have been wearing for generations. In Addis, some women wear the same netela for days, protecting themselves from the sun, winds, and dust as they go about their daily work. Other women, those who can afford more than one, stick one in their bag and throw it over their head, or their suit jacket, when the weather changes.
While looking for new products in Addis, I saw so many women wearing netelas. Some were rather dirty, often bordered with what I considered garish colors. So when asked if I wanted to import them, I would just say "No, I don't think American women will wear these"
For about 5 years, we had a few netelas on our shelves, but never showed them at the gift fairs. Then last year, I hung one in our booth at the NYIGF; buyer after buyer, while poking around and digging through our textiles, would be drawn to the netela. "What's this", they would ask while fingering the fine cotton, "Can I buy one/some? What about these colors and the lurex ... can we change that?" So the traditional netela underwent some westernizing (and we're still working on more changes), but the fine weaving, the soft cotton, and the delicate hand-stitching remain. I'm hoping that my certainty that Americans won't wear these will be 100% wrong and we can start a new fashion trend here ...
That's what I love about working cross culturally; I have constant opportunities to challenge my perceptions of the the world and think about how others see me and my values. When I first started working with Menby's Design, the first producer that Creative Women worked with in Ethiopia, I sat down with Menby and one of the weavers. The weaver looked at the colors that I chose for a pillow and said to Menby, in Amharic, "I don't want to weave that. The colors are ugly". Menby, as only another Ethiopian could do, responded, "It doesn't matter if you like the colors or not; it only matters what they think in NY". Certainly better said by her, than me.
Sometimes I read it all wrong. Take the netela, a lovely, gauzy shawl that Ethiopian woman have been wearing for generations. In Addis, some women wear the same netela for days, protecting themselves from the sun, winds, and dust as they go about their daily work. Other women, those who can afford more than one, stick one in their bag and throw it over their head, or their suit jacket, when the weather changes.
While looking for new products in Addis, I saw so many women wearing netelas. Some were rather dirty, often bordered with what I considered garish colors. So when asked if I wanted to import them, I would just say "No, I don't think American women will wear these"
For about 5 years, we had a few netelas on our shelves, but never showed them at the gift fairs. Then last year, I hung one in our booth at the NYIGF; buyer after buyer, while poking around and digging through our textiles, would be drawn to the netela. "What's this", they would ask while fingering the fine cotton, "Can I buy one/some? What about these colors and the lurex ... can we change that?" So the traditional netela underwent some westernizing (and we're still working on more changes), but the fine weaving, the soft cotton, and the delicate hand-stitching remain. I'm hoping that my certainty that Americans won't wear these will be 100% wrong and we can start a new fashion trend here ...
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