Wednesday: Vacation, what vacation?

It's been difficult to get to on internet long enough to catch up on writing so here's what has been happening over the last few days - days are out of order, sorry.

We had another full day of meetings – one with a local entrepreneur who makes baskets and jewelry that are sold to Macy’s in the US, we interviewed two candidates for a Program Coordinator position for GRDP, had a private visit with the Buranga woman who make hand-made jewelry sold to Keza in the US, and we managed to get to bed before 2am for the first time this week! It’s amazing how refreshing a 6-7hr sleep is.

Gahaya Links – Joy and Janet started their basket weaving business that now sells to Macy's and other fine retailers abroad. Here's an excerpt from their site: http://gahayalinks.com/
Gahaya Links Limited; a for-profit Rwandan handicraft company based on the simple principle of women economic empowerment through fair-trade. Our products are knitted in traditional, authentic Rwandan patterns and are of high quality to ensure a sustainable market for the Gahaya Links weavers. Crafted products include beautifully woven baskets, home décor, jewelry and textiles.

The interview process is similar to North America however the layout of the resumes provided information about their religious beliefs, nationality, and even the names of their parents. I suspect this goes back to the strife between the Hutus and the Tutsis when identity cards were in place for all Rwandans.

Meeting the Buranga women was both an honour and a privilege. This co-op started after the genocide when the woman, all survivors that have been raped and/or worked as prostitutes to make money, came together as a bible study/support group. While studying, they also made jewelry to help support one another and feed their children.
A private and secured meeting was pre-arranged for us so we got to see first hand how 35 women sit in a small room, each one working on her specific job, to create gorgeous jewelry that has been showcased in O Magazine and by the executive of Prada.
As we drove through the private gate, marked with embossed hearts, the women all stood and greeted us with a beautiful song – none of which I understood because it was sung in the local language Kinyarwanda. What surprised me most about these women was how they could have passed for anyone’s sister, mother, grandmother or friend. Their faces were the faces of anyone you see on the street.