Weaving change in Bolivia

I expected abundance. I thought there would be stalls for miles, overflowing with things, people calling out the names of their wares, and travelers like myself weaving through the streets. The El Alto Market in Bolivia, just outside the capital city of La Paz, is one of the world’s largest markets. I was ready to be impressed.

I walked the dirt streets with incredulity. The market was permeated with a horrible stench from trash that littered the ground. Many vendors sold their wares on blankets spread across the rubble. The scuffed goods ranged from hardware tools to Barbie dolls. Worse, the scene lacked the hustle and bustle of a healthy marketplace. While the place teemed with people, the vendors looked at me with heavy eyes, without seeming to care whether or not I bought their goods.

The market went torturously on for blocks. Finally, I stumbled out, depressed by the hundreds of people who were numbly trying to make some kind of profit.

Bolivia is the poorest country in South America. Diane Bellomy, founder of fair trade organization Artesania Sorata, is much needed in La Paz. The artisans at Artesania Sorata are on the bottom rung of Bolivia’s economic ladder. Many of them are women who live in rural areas, and never got an education. Those that were able to afford college dropped out after several years for lack of money. They married, had children, and didn’t have money enough to support them. Then the women found Diane through relatives or friends, and their standard of living dramatically changed.

The women at Artesania Sorata have control of their daily schedules and become economically independent. All of them have the same dream for the future: each wants her children to get college degrees, which would enable them to earn a substantial salary.

The positive impact of Artesania Sorata on the artisans is priceless. They work at home, so they can be with their children. Further, self-expression becomes the artisans’ lifestyles. Julia relates social issues in her tapestries; Martha depicts sweeping, open landscapes.

Beginning in 1978, Diane taught Soratan women to make items like sweaters and gloves, and they taught her Bolivian weaving techniques learned from their mothers and grandmothers. She helped the women sell their textiles to tourists. Once there was enough profit, she immediately used the earnings to provide health care for the artisans and their families, as well as educational opportunities for the community, such as literacy classes.

Today, Artesania Sorata provides work for over 200 women, and a few men. They use alpaca and wool to create beautiful textiles, like tapestries, sweaters, and purses. The few artisans who are needed in the workshop dye yarn in vats, sew tags onto merchandise, and take inventory. Artisan Eva Illanes usually works at home, but today she came to the workshop to give her finished weaving to Diane, and to collect her payment. Eva tells me that jobs in Bolivia are scarce. Her husband has a good job as a military engineer, but he is never home; she sees him once a month for several days. She mentions that he doesn’t give her enough money. She’d like to work more, but she has to take care of her children. However, Eva is happy. She laughs with Diane about the first sweater she ever made for Artesania Sorata. “We’re like family,” Eva says.

“Sergio, who does very fine work in large sized wall-hangings, is a man who lives in Sorata. He is now a homeowner—when we first started working with him over twenty-five years ago, he was living in one room with his whole family,” Diane tells me. Diane is the miracle that happened to Sergio and hundreds of other artisans. She has worked in Bolivia for thirty-one years. In 1977, frustrated with American consumerism, twenty-seven year old Diane moved to Sorata, a small Bolivian town near La Paz. There, she started a small cooperative to help Soratan women sell their woven artwork, which is now Artesania Sorata, a successful business that has helped hundreds of families improve their standard of living. Diane doesn’t think of her work as a gift, or even as a service. “I always felt like I had to be here,” she said to me as we sat in the workshop. To Diane, a life of improving other lives is compulsive.

In addition to managing Artesania Sorata, now located in La Paz, Diane supervises a school for the deaf and an arts workshop for orphaned children, and runs a non-profit volunteer program. She emphasizes the importance of volunteers, who “make connections with Bolivians that will help to bring our cultures to a place of better equilibrium.”
In Bolivia, organizations like Artesania Sorata are rare. Many women in La Paz spend all day selling bruised fruit for a seventh of an American dollar apiece, sitting hunched on dirty street corners, their children hiding behind them or playing among trash heaps. The artisans at Artesania Sorata live a far better lifestyle, but they’re only a fraction of the women in La Paz. As Diane said, Artesania Sorata “helps to empower people with a greater sense of self, which comes from the development of their creative expression” and what follows is change, positive change.”

The author is a Barnard College sophomore. “Weaving change in Bolivia” is the final installment of Summer Dispatches, an opinion feature series that seeks to showcase the diverse summer experiences of members of the Columbia community. More information about volunteering can be found at www.artesaniasorata.com.