We all have weaknesses. Some we are aware of, some, well, those around us are kind enough not to point them out. One of mine is so apparent, a love of cats. Long ago I got over worrying about being labeled the crazy lady up the hill with the cats. Now and again, I do hear a comment that makes me think, such as ‘I am wary of women with cats – they already have something warm and furry cuddling next to them when that could have been me,’ but I got over that as well.
We even have cats in the workshop. Ajda Hanim came to us pregnant. My take was that if we are a project for women, we needed to be there for all women, especially those who had been left in such a state and then left on their own.
When all is said and done, St Francis may smile upon me, but I am not sure I will be forgiven for holding Ajda, singing the Fishhead’s song (fishheads, fishheads, roly poly fishheads, eat them up, yum! you can take a fishhead to the movie, put it in your pocket and it gets in free) and her looking up at me in total adoration.
Ajda gave birth to 4 kittens, right there in the workshop. Being the good mother that she is, she promptly placed them in the cupboard. She took care of them, we took care of her.
When you run a workshop, you may or may not care about your appearance. Generally, I try to make an effort. And yet, reality dictates that your work on any given day may determine how you really look, and whether you care or not makes no difference. Shortly after the kittens were born, I was working on flour sacks that still had plenty of flour in them. Hence I was covered in white, foot-to-toe.
A few of our ladies walked in with their children and I took the opportunity to introduce them to the kittens.
About 45 seconds later, two representatives of the Ministry of Finance walked in.
Now what? I could not change my Pillsbury doughboy impersonation, bad as it was, nor could I hide the tiny feline that just barely fit in my hand.
I figured I was so far off the radar for these two officials, that I could just go for it. It’s not like I really had any options... So I held out my free hand to greet the gentlemen.
Neither of them took my hand and I really could not blame them. One admitted he was terrified of the beasts. The officials got right down to business, after introducing themselves. I was dying to know what they were really thinking.
'We want to ask a few questions. Do the women work here or at home?'
This was a terrifying question as it would expose me to all sorts of labor laws. Everything we did was legitimate, kosher, transparent, but we were operating within a different paradigm, trying to forge new paths, unfamiliar ones.
‘Well, they come here to learn what we are doing, learn new techniques, get things started, but mostly they work at home. You see, my ladies have not worked for pay before and they are not used to spending so much time away from home. They also have many responsibilities within the home, cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the children. They make our products mostly in between tending to those responsibilities.’
'So the women work mostly at home?'
‘Yes, the women work mostly at home.’ I mentally chided myself for not just answering the question directly.
'And where do you get your materials from?'
‘Most of our materials are essentially trash, but most of what we use comes to us in a clean form.’
'This isn't trash – it's all quite clean!'
‘ Right! Our sponsor has some packaging materials they cannot use, because it is damaged or perhaps they change the wrapping they are using and cannot use the left-overs, so they send those materials to us. To them it is trash, to us, it is, as you rightly pointed out, raw materials.’
We went back to the main room and sat down. The fellow who was afraid of cats was sweating profusely. I offered tea, water, coffee, but they were not interested. Inspector Number 2 seemed more intrigued.
'This is a rather original workplace you have here.'
‘Yes, we think so too. We are trying to provide a different model for development projects.’
All the while, I was wondering when this scene would explode, if I would be taken away in chains, or what prior knowledge they had been given so that my answers really did or not matter.
Mr. Afraid-of-Cats took out an official-looking form that had hand-written notes on it, a well-used piece of carbon paper, situated himself and his papers and asked, 'Do the women work mostly at home or here?'
I know this is not a trick question, even if asked 18 times, and so, I repeated myself yet again.
‘Yes, but they have to come here at least once a week.’ That had to be okay.
Inspector Number 2 was looking around so I got up and showed him some of our other goods. Door mats made out plastic bags in the shape of a fish; aprons made out of grain sacks; embroidered kitchen towels from cloth flour sacks. Again, I knew that we were way off their radar.
'Surely now and again you have expenses for the materials, no?'
‘Yes, of course, but as you can see, most of our materials we receive for free as they are considered garbage to our sponsors. Thread, zippers, yes, sometimes I have to purchase those.’ I was already paying a lot in taxes and really did not want to have to pay more or be hit with a fine for not doing things by the book. Then again, nothing I did was by the book. But we were legitimate! And yet here I was, covered in flour, having just put a kitten back in the cupboard.
All the while, I was hoping I was providing enough right answers to stay in the clear. But I knew that even with being honest, our enterprise would be suspect. I just hoped that I would not dig myself and our efforts any deeper than I could dig out.
Inspector Number 2 seemed impressed in general and let us know that. Afraid-of-Cats was still sweating, writing.
They finally accepted my offer of tea, sat down, looked around, and I would imagine tried to process what they were seeing. I am sure they have seen many different work places in their lives but I knew darn we that they had never seen anything like the likes of ours. Quietly, I commended their attempts to really try and take in what they were seeing. Tea finished, they thanked me, and walked out.
That seemed too painless to be real, but off they went and there we were, ladies, kittens, flour-drenched boss-lady.
I went back to cutting the grain sacks, smiling as I wondered just how these two inspectors might respond when asked, ‘honey, how was your day?’
Daughter of mine---Oooooooh, you are just over the top on this one! Fantastic. You captured the scene so, so well; I can "see" it. Congrats! How are the kittens doing?
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