Monthly Musings: May These Goods Transport You
Nestled within miles and miles of rice fields, down a long, dusty, narrow dirt road, tucked back away from the village center, you drive for what feels like hours, before arriving at Net's door. Upon arrival one, if not all, of our weavers gather at Net's house to welcome you in with beaming smiles, frantic waves, a western gesture not common in Khmer life, adopted to make you feel welcome, and a gaggle of giggling kids. Behind an old wooden gate stands Yeay, the elder and the matriarch, yelling hello to us in Khmer as she proceeds to rant about her hip pain completely unfazed by the fact you don't understand a word she is saying.
Neither of your mind, you communicate with something else entirely.
Children run up and take their chance to say 'hello!' in english and grab your hand to lead you inside. They walk you up to the center of the house where the loom doubles as the living room sofa. This is the true communal point of all of our weavers homes. The women laugh at the children, handing them fruit or snacks to eat as they shoe them off of the loom and out of our space. You find a place to drop your stuff, take a deep breath in, and for what feels like the first time in years, you let out a deep sigh, the kind of peace you feel only when in the comfort of loved ones and family. You are home.
From the homes of our artisans, to yours.