As I sit here in a café at 7:23 am reflecting on our day yesterday when we were introduced to the ladies of Coban I am emotional. There have been moments here where I have been able to hold back my tears. There have been moments here where I have not. Shoot I think this is one of those moments. Poor café people.
I witnessed something so special yesterday. The ladies of Coban came to visit us from their village in Coban to show us their art. They are weavers, these ladies ... but different than other weavers. The women in the village [yes only women, the men are farmers] weave these beautifully delicate and intricate textiles only in white. And when I say delicate/intricate, I mean that their textiles look like lace.
These women started weaving when they were children [think: under 10 y/o]. They weave into their textiles symbols of what they see around them - crabs, ducks, deers, spiders ...
To say that these textiles take a long time to weave is a total understatement. The weaving takes a very very long time - and because it takes so long the price is high. And because the price is so high, it is very difficult to find these treasured textiles in the world. It pains me to say this, but this art is not sustainable for the ladies. It is a dying art. Unless we can work with the artisans to come up with a sellable solution, while not changing what makes their art so perfect.
And these ladies are exactly like the art they create: peaceful, delicate, full of grace. Yesterday I saw God.
"Thank you for coming to see my weaving. I came here with my heart. Take it with you, with your heart."