It was exactly a year ago that I visited Bonoful Handmade Paper in Muktagacha, Bangladesh. I am still inspired by the industrious creativity of the women there. These women are the primary wage earners for their families. Prior to arriving at Bonoful they were unskilled and had little opportunity for employment. Seeing them work puts a face on fair trade and reminds me that it’s possible in my isolated western culture to make choices that have a positive effect on their families on the other side of the world.

dipping paper sheets

Busy Workroom

Feeling paper pulp fibers.  Photos by Maebird

This afternoon we explored Old Dhaka. Ty wanted to visit Sitara Mosque but our driver didn’t know where it was. We almost gave up finding it but it seemed to suddenly rise out of nowhere. We peered through the fence and saw dozens of barefoot men face down praying so we were content to watch from that distance. But a very friendly man named Bashir who spoke good English insisted we go in “after they stop praying.” A minute later he said “OK we can go in” but the scene hadn’t changed much and it looked like they were still mid-prayer. Whatever. He asked us to take off our shoes (“socks OK”) and for Amanda and I to cover our heads. He was eager to tell us all about the beautiful tiles and also how peaceful Muslims are. “If I am cut, it bleeds red. If you are cut, it bleeds red. Not green or yellow.” In the midst of this a cadre of clerics descended upon Ty and Justin gathering them into their circle. Bashir said they wanted to speak with them but when I stepped forward he stopped me with a kind smile “Gents only.” Amanda and I watched from a distance as the men asked questions, poured perfume on their wrists and fed them piles of cookies and angel food cake. Then they had them repeat a bunch of Arabic that basically meant “God is great when you’re sleeping, God is great when you’re eating, God is great when you’re smelling…” and “There is one God Allah and Mohammad is his prophet.” It only took 20 minutes to convert them.

Clerics inviting the men to hang out.

The conversion process.

Goodbye, my friend. Justin said that guy wouldn’t let go.

Ty has gone to the “Decent Bakery” where I suppose it is that they sell moderately acceptable pastries. It may not be open. Today is Eid-ul-Azha, the Muslim holiday of sacrifice. Leading up to this day we have observed the plethora of cattle populating the streets of Dhaka. Cows huddled in parking garages, on balconies of apartment buildings, tethered to water spigots and traffic signal poles, wedged cheek to jowel on trucks, and in Christmas Tree lot types of arrangements all across the city. Goats also, but not as many. We see children walking a dozen at a time, leashes taught and straining, like a dog walker in Central Park. One goat outside our window chose to bleat all night. We hear this is the day the streets run red with blood of slaughter so on our excursion to Old Dhaka later I may have to just keep my head down.

We extracted ourselves from Dhaka this morning at 6:30am and miraculously made it to Muktagacha in Mymensingh district by 9:30. After breakfasting on Bhaji and Daal at the Mennonite Central Committee office we set out for ISSD (Ideal Step for Sustainable Development). An Australian Baptist organization left this handicraft research and development project to MCC a few years ago. The structure wasn’t much more than poles holding up a corrugated tin roof but it’s a sophisticated birthing center for new product ideas. They are not short on sweat equity. The main effort these days is inventing a way to make thread from locally grown pinapple leaves and weaving it into gorgeous shear fabric. The process is painstakingly slow but the artisans are patient and persistent. We got to meet a man whose job it is to invent tools and he showed us the pineapple leaf threshing machine he had built. Coincidentally we also met our good friend Joe Manikam, Director of MCC Asia. Suraiya has invited us and Joe to her home for Eid celebrations on Saturday. What a stroke of good luck! We were hoping we would have the opportunity to observe this Muslim holiday up close in some way.

Tying pineapple strands into thread. Painstaking work.

Because Suraiya was our guide today instead of Ershad it was easier to talk with the women. Last week my blog post “Strong Bangla Women” featured the story of Hajera Hayadaly. In spite of their low order load, she was at work today. Since her story is the one I feature for all my customers it’s a De Milo fixture. I felt like I was meeting a celebrity. We also met a young spitfire of a woman (regret I didn’t get her name) who was less shy than the others. Suraiya explained to us that she is the chairwoman of PMC (Producers Management Committee). This leadership group meets regularly with all the workers where they can talk about any issue—family, work, personal—and work toward resolution. The PMC from each Fair Trade project also meet together to share their experiences. It’s a way for the artisans to have a voice and they all seemed to be very happy and supportive of the arrangement. I have a feeling the primary issue they discuss is their lack of orders since that came up repeatedly.

Shredding cotton t-shirt scraps to be pulped for papermaking.Marbling paper.

Goofy girls

These journals were designed for an Italian company. They’re especially nice looking and, I think, a cut above the normal handicraft products.

Talking with Hajera

Girls stirring. You can barely see it in this photo, but this young woman’s arms and neck are covered in long scars. Her pimp would cut her when she didn’t follow his wishes.

Smelling soaps with Suraiya

Hand cutting soap boxes for 10,000 Villages.

Around 2pm I felt like I’d been on “The Amazing Race” and today hit the snarl of traffic that led to my elimination. It is 2 days to EID and I have never experienced such a logjam. Not in Manhattan, not in Manila, not even in LA during World Cup. It’s been a marvelous journey so far, but my greatest anticipation has been concentrated in visiting Shuktara Handmade Paper project. It is there that most of the creative paper making seems to take place. Unlike Biborton that makes lots of a few specific styles, they seem to have a more of a focus on inventing new patterns, colors and textures. They make the marble paper I and my customers love so much. They also have the new jute sheet we’ve worked on developing together over the last year. They have a large order of it that I was expecting to retrieve and take home in my suitcases. But after going about 17 miles in six hours we were forced to turn back. The heat, diesel fumes, and an agitated driver who backed into a truck (exploding the back window so using air conditioning was out of the question) while arguing with a bus driver who wouldn’t let him merge did not help. Shifali, our guide, advised that we not try to go to Bonoful tomorrow. So it was with a heavy heart that I began planning our escape from Dhaka. Confined to our hotel for four days and only going places that are walkable did not sound appealing to any of us and Hong Kong for a few extra days was looking pretty good. But when we finally arrived at the Prokritee office at 4pm Suraiya said we should try to go to Bonoful tomorrow. “You’ve come so far and they are expecting you.” She will accompany us and we are to leave at 6am, two hours earlier than our start today. This project is only two hours away so maybe we will make it in six. I feel like it’s a non-elimination round!

I slept like a rock for 5 hours on my rock hard bed. But I felt like a queen, or that child’s book character “Fancy Nancy,” under my chartreuse mosquito net and pink striped sheets. Eventually the haunting but beautiful morning call to prayer combined with a cock crowing started the day.

We were welcomed again with a profusion of flowers at Keya Palm. The artisans here work mostly with palm branch leaves folding them into stars (that I’ve seen in my friends’ homes around Christmas time) or weaving journal covers. Like Bagdha and Jobarpar Enterprises yesterday, they are experiencing a “crisis of orders” as their big ticket customers (The Body Shop and 10,000 Villages) have scaled way back. But I had a little speech prepared about how many large American companies are going out of business and our president is working on that, but there are still many small businesses like me who are alive and want to hopefully help them with many small orders and I would tell all my business friends. At least it was something. But, truthfully, they need to develop their product offering. There are only so many little origami stars the market can take. They enjoyed watching me struggle through folding a star.



From Keya we made our way on foot down a dirt path along a small pond where a few enterprising fisherman were bringing up baskets of sludge and tiny 2 inch fish. The banks were teeming with small children who were given the task of sorting fish from sludge and it looked like desperate work. I was feeling reluctant about our next stop. Beautiful saris, richly painted walls and gracious hosts had kept me going so far. But the pressure of this role I had been given as “the American buyer” was wearing me thin. It was a pleasure to find Biborton Handmade Paper Project a large and bustling circle of workshops. They welcomed us warmly. But they did not request a speech. The artisans couldn’t have cared less that we were there. They had more important work to do. The American economy may be flagging, but Japan and Italy are picking up the slack. It was wonderful to see so much creative activity. I will let Amanda’s photos speak for themselves.

Gluing and cutting.

The water hyacinth (pink flower) is an abundant weed. They make paper pulp from the stems.

Raw Jute fiber, another abundant local resource, before it’s pulped.

Dipping the paper.

Squeezing the water out.

Drying on steam heated forms. They can produce more than by sun drying. But it is hot work.

Adding flowers to wet paper.

Drying in the sun.

Everything is done by hand, even folding bags. They don’t want to get machines for simple tasks because it’s more desirable to provide the employment.

Block Printing

Traffic lights notwithstanding, we careened out of Dhaka at 7:30am on a drive that resembled an advanced level video game more than a roadtrip. Rules for driving in Bangladesh: 1.) The number of marked lanes plus one is the number of cars that fit across on any given road. 2.) If your lane is slow the shoulder of the OPPOSITE side is a viable option. 3.) Passing a truck loaded with cows that is ALSO passing a bus on a blind curve is acceptable. If not a blind curve it’s OK to answer your cell phone.

Bone weary and weak kneed after seven hours of studying the above driving guidelines we piled out of the van and dumped our bags at Charity Foundation’s guest house (A local NGO that took over for Mennonite Central Committee a few years ago). I had been warned this place was “nothing fancy” but was unprepared for its abundance of charm. What rural Bangladesh lacks in creature comforts they more than make up for in style. Rich colors and textures spotlessly clean.

After a delicious meal of Daal we ditched the van and traveled “by hand”– a rickshaw bicycle piloted by a wiry man of small stature and enormous strength down a brick road toward Oz…or is this the Warner Bros. studio lot? If I were a location scout for the movie industry I would want to know about this place. We were welcomed as royalty with flower garlands and impossibly sweet blobby treats. Is there a condensed milk river nearby?

I am starting to understand the pattern of these visits. I, as “a buyer from De Milo Design in America” am expected to give a speech. I am also expected to mitigate their “crisis of orders” right there on the spot. More than just a little awkward. But the discomfort is tempered by the genuinely interesting setup of their workshops. It’s a relief when the attention shifts to the “how” of production.

Justin says this is the most amazing place he’s ever been. I agree. It has a palpable other-worldly aura and a style that westerners scramble madly to invoke.

Today is the first day of a citywide campaign by Dhaka officials to convince Bangla drivers of the importance of traffic signals. “A” for effort, guys. A Bangla driver would sooner give up his chai, or even shake the hand of a woman, before surrendering his space of road. After one hour of “driving” 12 kilometers (7 miles) we arrived a Prokritee’s main office.

Ershad is Prok’s marketing guy and has the expansive personality to match. Seated in his office (two walls piled high with baskets) we got the download on their fair trade mission, operating principles, etc… which include hiring women employees who:

* are head-of-households (widows, divorcees, or separated)
* have little, if any income
* are landless with few or no assets
* are primarily rural

and tacked on the end was a heartfelt pitch to please place orders for baskets as they are in an “order crisis” and their artisans are suffering from a lack of basket weaving opportunities. The limp US economy has far reaching effects. As I was mentally wrestling with the meaning of unsold baskets for humanity we were led into the “Heart” of Prokritee–the design office. Being a creative type myself, I have a narcissistic tendency to believe that designers are uber superheros. Saving the world through good typography and intelligent use of white space. But we were introduced to Suraiya Chowdhury, the most gentle and humble sort of super hero. Suraiya has been with Prok for 17 years. Before that she received her degree in Fine Art at the University of Bangladesh. While she has her own work, her focus is supporting the artisans and facilitating the fruits of their creative endeavors. Quality control is one area of great concern for her and she goes to great lengths to find working solutions. When it was clear the artisans didn’t have the motor skills or equipment to cut a straight line she helped develop a line of torn paper cards. When The Body Shop rejected 2,000 lumpy edged knitted hemp bath mitts she made the 17 hour journey into the jungle to dry their tears and set about the business of figuring out how to knit a clean curve. She clearly is the heart that keeps the blood flowing around here.

Our day wound to a close when Patrick, a Bangla man with an extremely kind face, cooked us a meal fit for royalty.

A 14 hour flight to Hong Kong. Ty’s former Physics student at Sacred Heart, Connie, met us for the duration of our 12-hour layover. Without her we certainly would have given in to jet lag and not seen the rich site of this city.

Saying goodbye to my doggy friends. We’re so lucky to have Abigail. She’s been taking care of Willie since she was six and he was a puppy.

Catherine and Willie