The UnJustice System

March 25, 2011

Behind The Gate

Women who love their families too much

in desperation, do desperate things

They say goodbye, believe the LIE

of jobs that pay them more than ever earned

But some instead are spurned

Vulnerable

Victims of the whim of their employer

Voiceless when unpaid,locked up,

accused of crimes not done

although NO evidence exists

They take the blow of fists

and don't resist

in hopes their kids can still be fed

When hope is dead, they flee

where safety is a roof and rice

It's nice to be among familiar faces but

there are no social graces

when the shower is shared by 5

and 300 vie for space to lay their head

The days stack up like cards

but rare an ace

Most wait for justice who

hardly ever shows her face.

I wrote this poem as a compilation of experiences from some of the maids I know. One explained how they all kept clean at the shelter with only 2 showers and 250+ ladies. Another brave young woman wrote out her story in beautiful English so I could share her journey through her employment, false accusation of theft (her madame's dog ran away and she got blamed) a horrific 4 months time in jail, court dates, release & being sold to another employer, and her escape in the middle of the night. She was helped by a bread delivery truck driver who dropped her at the makeshift shelter at the Philippine labor office where I go. Some don't fare so well on their run for freedom. Others are "lucky." My taxi driver told me just this week of picking up a frightened young woman with a small bag of clothes at 5am as she was attempting to flee an abusive employer. She laid down in the back seat and begged him to drive away fast. He got her food, gave her cash and took her to safety.

We are currently in a period of amnesty, granted by the Amir on the occasion of Kuwait's 50/20 Celebrations. Until June 30, domestic workers who are here illegally can leave the country without penalty. This seems to be benefiting many people; the exception is those with a legal case against them, such as my friend. Her baby was 18 months when she left, she is now 3 and her mommy is at the whim of evil & greed as to when she might be released to come home.

At the Proud To Be Kuwaiti expo, I was invited to show/sell the Trash To Treasure rugs in the area that highlights environmental programs. I used the platform to not only discuss the recycling we do (more accurately "upcycling" or "re-use") but to spread awareness of the plight of many domestic workers in this country. I was encouraged by the amount of interest & support I got from the local population. The fully covered Bidoons only wanted to barter and get a cheaper price (charity meant nothing) but others were delighted to purchase, knowing who they were helping. Many couldn't believe they were really "hand made" in Kuwait and loved the quality. One Kuwaiti man baited me: "how many of those women do you think were really abused and how many just didn't want to work?" I told him that honestly, I was sure there were some of both. He told me "they all lie" and steal, and can't be trusted. I didn't ask him why such people are trusted to raise their babies? I did assure him broken bones don't lie. Do they not see the lies in paying people half of what they are promised when they agree to come here? He felt certain it was only among uneducated area where maids were being mistreated. I valued the opportunity to have a discussion like this. I hope the seeds planted will yield a harvest of justice in the months & years to come.

"Housemaid Found Dead"

small print. Buried in with the "road victims" and "missing daughter" (she ran away to escape parental abuse.) No names..."A Kuwaiti man is being held for questioning after he admitted to beating his Asian housemaid to death." (Kuwait Times, Mar 3, 2011) First, he told police he found her unconscious outside the house. When confronted with the forensic evidence of the maids beating, her employer of two weeks "admitted to beating the maid after she failed to perform as he expected her to."

I wonder what his expectations were?
Work 20 hour days without rest?
Keep his undisciplined, self-centered children under control without any authority?
Provide services not in the contract?
Work for half the amount she agreed to on the contract she signed before coming here?

In the same paper, photos of Asian women & other expatriots were shown in a "caught red handed" pose; rounded up on a raid, guilty of prostitution (not likely what they thought they were being hired for)or doing drugs. Funny, isn't it that the Kuwaiti who murdered his maid is just "being held for questioning" and remains unnamed when these such mugshots are splattered through out the papers.

My spirit is boiling, heat rising, a crescendo of anger at the injustice I see. The fury spills down my cheeks unchecked. Perhaps these tears belong to God himself. On my own, I couldn't care this much. I'd probably rather just read the fashion pages & look the other way.

I'm thankful I could sell Trash To Treasure items today to pet lovers at the PAWS Dog Show. It was a lovely event for families. I'm glad this charity cares for animals who've been neglected or abused in this country; God knows there are plenty. However, hearing people tell of animals they'd rescued who were sad, dirty, hungry & injured left me grieved that so few seem to care about the plight of humans who suffer so much more while their families back home await the grocery money and tuition fees that never come. Meanwhile, mommy waits in jail, or in a shelter, forgotten by greedy employers hoping to get re-paid for the cost of their absconded maid. That is if they survived their job in the first place. Not all do.

Sri Lanka Trip

January 1, 2011

Just back from Sri Lanka & I hope it was not a wasted journey. I went seeking a taste of India & Asia and some good family time together. I also longed for a fresh perspective and a rest from life in Kuwait. My mind is never far from my mission here and I had to get away to free up some mental space. I also longed to celebrate Christmas in a special way...on that account, we failed.

Soon after arrival I realized God had not given me the compassion and generosity of spirit for these people as he has in Q8. The press of people, the smells, the honking horns & furtive eyes that accompanied the outstretched hands provoked the same reaction in me as as the touch-me-not weed our guide pointed out in the ancient city of Polonnaruwa. I did not like this about myself: I wanted to fold in on myself and hide. Young men would grab our bags to heft into the van then expect a tip. Throughout the week I felt like a walking ATM required to crank out rupees for anything from snapping a photo to using a smelly hole in the ground marked "toilet." I hated being seen as the rich American and having people see us as only a potential source of cash. Everyone wanted to sell us something and many just wanted a gift; rupees, Ethan's water bottle, candy, markers, a pen??? This fear of getting taken advantage of spilled over into each relationship. I swung from gratitude for our host and travel agent (are we paying him enough?) to "Oh my gosh, we were so gullible to pay him this much without knowing what kind of rooms he will book for us...this is extortion!" My Western propensity for comfort, cleanliness, and convenience was stalking me at every stop as well.

I've digressed. We left Q8 on Sri Lanka Air via Dubai. The beautiful carmel skinned flight attendant welcomed us with hands together as in prayer. They wore exquisite saris with peacock feather designs. Our seats were the most spacious and comfortable we've ever had. The Indian food was good and the wine was complimentary. This was the last of "comfort, clean and convenience" we would see for a week! We arrived around 5am and had to adjust our watches by two and ONE HALF hours! This was our first experience with "offset time zones" and it was very strange. After an eternity of waiting, Steven (he must have Westernized his name for us!) met us with a nice van and we spilled onto the curb with the masses. Traffic inched along at a snail's pace as he drove with his horn on the "wrong side of the road," weaving between buses, 3 wheel "tuk tuks," motor bikes, and the occasional cow herd. We were told SL is "India lite" and I was grateful we were not arriving in Delhi as we had earlier discussed.

From the airport, we drove to Kandy; the city in the mountainous heart of the island. This journey was allegedly 2.5 hours but with the drenching rain and stops, it took most of the day. Before the rain started we enjoyed stunning green vistas with every imaginable fruit, veg, and flower growing along side tumbledown shacks, where men in skirts (sarongs) and western shirts lounged under coconut palms enjoying the Christmas holiday. While passing a pineapple garden our host taught us the source of this luscious fruit. Roadside stands lined our journey as did the soaring Buddha statues. The "highway" to Kandy was never more than a winding road thru village after village. The road was edged with women in vibrant saris, barefoot children, vendors and even a few elephants. We saw a lot of the county as we proceeded up to the hills, then back down the the beaches in the south. The north part of the island is still to be avoided as the war there has only recently ended.

Out first adventure was a stop at an elephant reserve. For $30 each (gasp) we got to ride around the village barebacked on these gentle giants. Feeling the powerful movement of their muscles under my legs as she ambled along terraced rice paddys in the dripping rain was wet but wonderful. The kids rode together and our guide chased along with th camera under an umbrella as the rain picked up. We were fairly soaked so the kids bit on the offer to ride their guy into the river for a bath. They were the ones who got showered as he scooped and dumped water on them "smiling" all the while! We had to ask if we could have some warm tea and everyone seemed to find us a bit odd (imagine that!) This was the first time I felt the lack of hospitality I'd expected.

Our bed & breakfast in Kandy was charming for about 20 minutes. Pink mosquito nets hung over each bed and from out balcony there was a stunning view of the village below and the surrounding hills. The soggy weather brought out armies of mosquitoes that no amount of DEET could keep away from Molly. Their appetite for her fairly guaranteed our safety when we were traveling together. Our rooms were reasonably clean but the nets around us stunk as did the towels that refused to dry. When we discovered Ethan's jeans would take 2 days to get cleaned & dried we realized that no one owned driers; the sun was supposed to do that service. When we asked for new towels, you would think we'd just asked for wireless internet...seems the "standard" here is every other day. I couldn't help but think of the waste in Q8 as we were "indulged" with clean towels. So much of this trip reminded me of my time in St. Lucia...the way bed sheets in the hospital were recycled by turning them over instead of changing them every day. We often wondered how clean our sheets where but we had to be brave and assume the best.

In spite of the heat, we were severely admonished to lock our doors & windows at night. The local monkeys are known to be aggressive and very naughty to unsuspecting tourists, so we obliged. Soon, we encountered the troublemakers but were taken in by their cuteness as the many photos we took confirm.

Day 2 was spent exploring Kandy. The rain paused while we strolled through the botanical gardens and enjoyed the exotic trees and flowers there. Besides monkeys, the enormous bats that swooped then hung upside down in trees above us were fascinating. Bamboo and spice trees like cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves spread canopies for couples walking hand in hand. Even this was charming after months in Q8. Eager to explore on our own, we asked Steven to take us away from touristy areas into the local market area. We were soon smothered by people and felt like fresh meat in a bread line. Everyone wanted to show us something and help us locate what we wanted. Browsing unnoticed was impossible and we quickly looked for an escape route. Retreating to a local restaurant (it's all we could find, not a single recognizable franchise was around) we tried to be optimistic about the standards of the food we were ordering. Based on the amount of time Emily & Ethan spent on the pot that night, I fear we should have stuck with the bread from the bake shop. While people around us were quickly served, we waited 45 minutes for our food. This was to be repeated on other occasions and we never understood why.

At an evening cultural dance show we ran into a group of teachers from Emily & Ethan's school. This seems to be a favorite destination for them. The dancers were impressive in their masks and costumes. Their gymnastics abilities set to the thrumming beat of the drums was quite a spectacle. An old man peddled Cokes in bottles with straws for 70 rupees (less than .70 cents.) When our driver stopped at a local market we got 5 water bottles for $1.25; we soon realized there were two prices for everything, a locals price and a tourist price.

On Christmas Eve we drove north 3 hours to Dambula, on to the ancient city of Polonnaruwa, and back to the Blinkbonnie Hotel. In addition to all the sights along the way, this was our time to explore Buddhist temples and gain some insight to it's influence on the culture, "not a religion but a way of life." While Christians, Muslims, Hindi and Buddhists live together in relative harmony, there were clearly many more Buddhist shrines than churches, mosques, & Hindi temples. Only once did we hear the call to prayer and see signs like "Muslim Hotel." Imposing Buddhas towered above simple villages as they sat in a pose of meditation or stood up with the trees in a stance of teaching. These statutes dwarfed everything around them by their size. At the Dambula Caves the Buddha Museum looked like an amusement park with life size figures of the orange toga clad monks lined up to pay homage. After the slippery ascent to the caves that housed the ancient Buddhas carved into the rock, we were rewarded with a bright old gentleman guide who spoke fluent English. He was happy to answer our questions on this mysterious way of life; perhaps it was the hope of a good tip but he earned it! As a devotee knelt with her face to the floor beside us, we asked "if this is not a religion, why do the followers pray to Buddha?" He dismissively said that was how less inteligent folks responded who are not able to connect through meditation, but this was a lower form of practicing Buddhism. He explained that there is a holiday every full moon when the devotees bring offerings of food and flowers to the temples. Not to be partial, they also take off for Christian holidays and many areas were adorned with scrawny Christmas trees and creepy masked Santas (we figured this was because Santa couldn't have a dark face!) To enter the sacred caves or temple we had to take off our shoes. Seeing the feet around me made me queesy to walk barefoot in these public places. We were not allowed to have a photo made in front of Buddha because our backs would then be to the statue. (There went another possible Christmas card shot!) This felt very weird to me when it all felt so contrived anyway. Psalm 135:13-18 in the Message put this in perspective:

"The gods of godless nations are mere trinkets,

made for quick sale in the markets:

chiseled mouths that can't talk,

painted eyes that can't see,

carved ears that can't hear--

Dead wood! Cold metal!

Those who make and trust them

become like them."

Indeed, everywhere we turned there were people peddling carvings of Buddha.

Polonnaruwa was a highlight for Robert & Emily but I struggle to remember any of the history we learned. It was the capitol city from where kings ruled the country 1000 years ago and the ruins were still in remarkedly good condition. The scenes of island life and the good food along the way were just as interesting to me. Emily was very intent on seeing a monitor, a Sri Lankan lizard of crocodile proportions.. Ever the accomodating guide, Steven pulled off the road when he saw some of them on the bank. A local boy was feeding the creepy creatures fish to show off their snapping mouthful of teeth. As their bellies were full, Ethan & Emily accepted the invitation to join him behind the monitors for a photo. As Molly was snapping the pics, 2 more crawled out of the water behind them so that they were surrounded by the meter long guys...priceless expressions on Emily's face as she tiptoed out of the dragons den!

Our best meal was at a rest house along the way where locals (including our driver) ate the hot stuff in the back and the tourists had milder versions at a buffet up front. This also meant we couldn't see them mixing & eating their food with their fingers which made us squeemish at times. Forks were always available to us but rarely used by the locals. The array of unnamed vegetables & delicious sauces were a treat. It included the usual fish, chicken & beef currys, rice, dahl (lentils) and the yummy fried pompodoms. We were laughing at some French tourists who'd ordered cheese sandwiches...then again, maybe they were not doubled over with diarhhea in their hotels?

I would have loved to attend a Christmas eve service but after driving us for 12 hours that day it seemed too much to ask of Steven to take us out again at midnight in the rain.Another steamy, somewhat sleepless night spent wishing I was at home and praying.... Before going to bed, Ethan pretended to be disappointed that there would be no Christmas tricks, then went off to bed leaving some of his things, including his shoes in our room. Next morning, he looked excited to see some wrapped "gifts" outside his door. He called Emily & asked permission to unwrap them...we all howled with laughter when he discovered mom had brought wrapping paper along and wrapped up his dirty boots and deoderant! Score! He had his trick after all. Emily thought it was a trick when her hot water shut off just after she got soaped up in the shower but I couldn't take the credit for that.

Leaving Kandy we were driven by Basil, a Catholic man of quiet dependability. A rosery swung from his mirror, a symbol of where his loyalties lay. He safely drove us over horrible construction clogged roads down steep mountain slopes with never an incident. After the constant crashes in Kuwait it was shocking to see NOT ONE accident all week. Our long day of travel was broken up by a stop at a tea plantation. The Brits are credited with bring tea to "Ceylon" when their coffee crop failed. It is now a major export. Our tea tour was most enlightening. All tea, from green to black and even "silver tips" come from the same plant; the difference is all in the processing. The fermentation is what distinguishes caffeine from non-caffenated tea which I never knew. The factory was fragrant with tea and clean but horribly hot in spots. The backbreaking work was carried out mostly by women. The heavy grinders and blowers looked antiquated. WE wondered what pitiful wages these women recieved for ther labors. The tea we sampled was nothing short of incredible.

By afternoon we were in Nuella Ella known as "little England." The influence of Colonial times was very evident here when a golf course, race track and a plantation style Western hotel spread across the hilltop. Gingerbread trim edged faded white homes whose grandeur was now slipping away. For a taste of "home," we decided to have fish and chips for one Christmas lunch at the hotel coffee shop. Stepping inside we breathed a sigh of relief: a glittering tree, nativity and Christmas music greeted us. It was not the ticky tacky decor that we'd seen other places but rich symbols of home. The veneer turned out to be deceptive: the service and the food felt a long way from London buit it was fun to pretend!

No place seemed far from the reach of poverty in spite of the lush production of food, tea, and even rubber. The roads passed inches from open doors and the sparce homes were only a notch above the squatter camps of South Africa if that. The plight of the working poor was impressed on us when we arrived at our overnight destination in Ella. We'd read about the herbal spa treatments here and decided to give the kids a memorable massage for Christmas. By this time all three of them were sick with some variation of respiratory & GI bugs. I'd bought over the counter amoxicillin for Ethan, anti itch meds and tummy meds for the girls and decongestant for all. The scene at the local pharmacy where no one had any medical training was rather comic as bystanders advised us on what we should be taking! Fortunately, the herbal spa treatment was good medicine for Emily & Ethan, clearing their chest and helping them get a great night of sleep...Molly was troubled by the smells & spells cast by the green massage oils rubbed into her scalp & body. Emily was sure they'd be cooked in the "Hanzel & Gretel" oven where only their heads poked out of a casket like chamber with a cooker underneath but they found it pleasant. The 3 towel draped teens inside the sauna with spices all over the floor and Christmas lights strung around the door was a sight to see!

Emily managed a conversation with her therapist though her English was sparse. She learned the lady was leaving Sri Lanka in 6 months to come work in Kuwait. Her desire was to send her kids to school and pay for their education. Dam's broke behind my eyes when I heard this and I wanted to plead with her NOT to come. "What to do?" as they say with bobbing heads. These ladies were so sweet with the kids and so good at what they did...yet it was not enough. We tipped them all heartily and gave the Q8 bound lady our contact info in case things don't go well for her. Later, at our hotel, the manager spoke good English; he told us he spent 10 years in Q8 and saw how maids were treated. We got him to call the lady and try to dissuade her but she was determined to come.

Our B & B in Ella had to be quickly re-booked when Basil discovered a scheduling error. Our place was very basic (a notch above camping) with a bed, net, & a crappy bathroom. In the breakfast room we met a couple of travelers; she was American, he a British doctor, both between jobs and traveling across Asia. They joined us for a game of Apples to Apples and we swapped stories for awhile. I love connecting with people like this along the way.

We arrived at the beach near Tangala on the south coast of S.L. on Boxing Day, Dec. 26: Exactly 6 years after the tsunami that claimed 90 lives in the village where we stayed. It was eerie to listen to the sea outside our cottage which was resting on stilts a meter off the ground. It was touching to hear some of the stories of the survivors; one lady invited us to her house as they were having a big meal for family who gathered to remember the loss of her 2 year old grandson to the water. Our waiter shuddered at the memory when we asked if he'd been there. Many places along the coast looked like they never bothered to rebuild. It was apparent how vulnerable the population was there and sadly, probably still are.

To our delight the skies were blue and rain was scant for the 3 days at the beach. We built a super sand castle one day and an awesome Buddha modeled after Robert on the next. People came to view our creations and we enjoyed the interaction with the few other tourists and locals who seemed amused by us! We swam in the warm water and Robert, Emily & Ethan body surfed in on the waves. Once we were "attacked" by a school of mini fish: 1 inch long clear and thin fish that we were peeling off the skin under our swimsuits when we went to shower! It felt like being in a sand storm except we were under water when they hit. This creeped Molly out and she would not get in the water after that.

We all enjoyed time to read, rest & observe life on the beach of a small fishing village. Watching the teamwork of neighbor men hauling in the nets full of fish or pushing a fishing boat off the beach into the water was serene. Their reward appeared to be a fresh fish from the day's catch for their dinner. One night we walked up the beach where we'd put in our order for dinner at an Italian cafe. With only the moon & starts to guide us, we picked our way along holding onto the person in front of us hoping if anyone stepped in cowpies it would be Robert and we would be warned in time! The beach was pretty clean except for these delicacies that dotted the sand. After an hours wait our pasta was delivered and it was exceptionally good (or we were starved by then!)

Our last night we stayed near the airport in Nugumbo. This was a more tourist oriented place with shopping and restaurants all in walking distance. The girls & I took a Tuk-Tuk to the main street where they found the saris they'd been looking for. Blond girls in saris is funny but sweet. I found some tops made there for Marks & Spencer in England. Our rooms were spacious and nice after we did battle against the mosquitoes waiting to suck our blood. We even had TV for the first time. One final breakfast of toast & eggs and we were happily on our way to the airport.

It was a long flight with time to chat with the lovely flight attendant who shared her perspective on the ladies from SL who come to the Gulf countries to work as maids. She assured me they do know the dangers they face but the economics at home demand the risk and sacrifice. I was so grieved as she told me they (Sri Lankan Airlines) carried back the bodies of THREE maids from Q8 over the past ONE month. What can I say? Such a gorgeous place it could be the Garden of Eden, poisoned by corruption, greed and politics.

God, don't let me shrink from the suffering I see, inspire my kids to make a difference on a scale I never even dreamed possible. Let justice roll on like a river, and don't let experiences like this leave us unchanged.

Giving Thanks 2010

Thanksgiving

Another year, another try at re-creating mom's dressing...coming close at times but never quite right! Probably because my family turns up their noses at the thought of putting the giblets in! Other than the menu (including the freshly ground cranberry/orange/apple/walnut relish) not much about our celebrations mirror my childhood recollections of turkey dinner with Grandma.

To fill the void of extended family (and Molly) we once again invited a random collection of friends & strangers. One teacher, one American family, one Thai student, one teacher, and 10 soldiers from ArifJon base converged at our house on an ordinary work day for most. We really wanted to make this special for the soldiers who never get the change to leave their sandy prison; one young girl had never been off base since arriving 2 months ago. For this reason, we put together a scavenger hunt that would allow them to get a glimpse of at least our neighborhood. While I carved the turkey, we sent them out in teams, led by one of our teenagers. They had to:

find 3 mosques

locate the "spy palm tree"

get a photo with a boy named Mohammad or Ali

photograph 3 stray cats in one picture

buy something at the local grocery shop they had never tried

find a flier in Arabic

bring back a napkin from Papa John's

find an African embassy

get a photo of a hummer

find a house with blue windows

and more I can't remember!

The initially quiet soldiers were soon chatting away & laughing about their scavenger experiences, sharing photos, and singing along with all the Karaoke contestants. We had dinner in two long rows in our dining room served family style. The questions on things and people we are thankful for were distributed to each plate and everyone participated in sharing. Robert included the usual serviceman's prayer when he blessed the food and couldn't get through it without choking up. The Colonel read Psalm 111 in The Message and we all sang "Great is Thy Faithfulness."

Listening to their stories of family & deployments, I noticed that they did not seem to consider that they were making a sacrifice to serve. It was an accepted way of life. Unlike my Filipino friends, they knew this was temporary and kept their eye on the future. They work 12 hour shifts with very little time off yet had little in the way of complaints.

I had neatly stacked all the rugs into the corner of my "warehouse" where they hung out & played ping pong. A few of the noticed and started asking questions. They wanted to see the rugs and hear about the maids. Before leaving they had purchased about 575 US dollars worth of rugs! Their excitement over Trash to Treasure was very touching. They could be so pre-occupied with their challenges, they would not have time to consider another's...but that was not the case.

From 3pm till after 10 when they were collected in a black convoy of armored vehicles, we sang and dined and laughed and had the best time with this great bunch of guys & gals from all over the USA. I'm so thankful for our military & the great caliber of people from enlisted to high ranking who serve our country. I'm so thankful Robert filled out all the documents & jumped through all the security hoops to allow them permission to be escorted to our house for this celebration.

The Trashion Show

November 12, 2010

Lights: check...they were assembled hours before the show and are now hot on the red carpet catwalk. Camera: the videographer is in place, cameras all over the ballroom are snapping away. Action...........that will have to wait until the VIP guests arrive, 5, 10, 20 minutes late; now they want to browse the rugs & displays in the back before being seated says the Philippine Labor Attache's wife! Our poor models were all standing at attention in paper and plastic dresses, unable to sit lest they dent their gown or worse, rip the skirt from the waist! Emily said that was the most excruciating part of the night.


The whole production was a waiting game, tense at times, a dance with lots of wonder...wonder if the Holiday Inn will cancel our free ballroom again because of a paying contract, wonder if the ministry will shut us down on the night of the show because fashion shows with mixed audiences are illegal, wonder if the girls will actually produce enough gowns for this gig in time or will the delay in the date mean too many of our original girls will have been endorsed and left the country?


Four days before the show I was still rummaging through my drawers finding things the girls could recycle into gowns: mismatched socks, old men's ties donated to Operation Hope, a roll of gold foil brought from the recycle shop in London, an egg carton...anything I could get my hands on. I didn't need to worry; they had it under control and instead of the required 10 dresses, in all they produced about 30! Enough for one section of the show to be only black garbage bag dresses which were accented with big beautiful gemstone jewelry from one of our sponsors. The middle two sections consisted of Iszonica Tshirts with the models sashaying the rugs down the catwalk and of them wearing "real clothes" made by local designers. This was fun for the girls to see what they were chosen to model by the 3 eccentric designers who were backstage with their outfits. Some of these dresses were mighty short for a Kuwaiti audience; lucky they had leggings with them, and underwear in different colors, and tanks! The final trips down the catwalk was the competition and there were enough gowns for each model to wear two.

While ticket sales were a bit disappointing and many who bought didn't even show, the 100 or people who came were so enthusiastic and their enjoyment of the event was great. There were expats as well as locals which was really exciting. One woman in a head covering bought the pink rosebud rug for her daughter's room and said she wanted to print out the story behind the rug and post it on the wall where she would hang the rug! Reporters from 2 newspapers and the British Business Forum were there to get the story. Robert wisely suggested I give the reporters a copy of my speech (I had to write it out in advance and get it approved by the Kuwait sponsor for the event) so I would not so easily be misquoted as I was in the first story. They were both happy to get this and used excerpts from it quite nicely in the articles published today. I was quite nervous about what would be said when I knew everyone related to the embassy was probably a bit on edge after the Marine Ball had to be cancelled last night due to security issues just 3 hours before curtain time! The food was already on location. Good thing Robert & I didn't have tickets; we were planning to go the the British Remembrance Service & curry dinner instead. Fortunately, this was allowed to go on but with heightened security.

Having never been to a fashion show before, I didn't know what to expect. Iszonica Modelling School is run by a dear young Jamaican/English lady who is also a Christian. She really knows her stuff & made everything so professional down to the printed program; no detail left untended. Her partner is a Kuwaiti who provided the oversight, the money, and the WASTA! Without the wasta, there would have been no show. He was a charming, westernized man & very interesting. He is a dentist with a practice but also a businessman with many different ventures going at once. He runs events like this on a regular basis so it was no big deal to him. I was thankful to have him check my speech so I would not offend anyone unknowingly...even though at times that is precisely what needs to be done!

It was really fun for me to have Emily's participation. She was really too busy to undertake the modelling workshops & practices required to participate, but she was willing to do it and even recruited 3 friends to join her. This was definitely a step outside her comfort zone but she performed with beauty and grace; I am so proud of her. Some of the funniest things came from backstage happenings that she was able to observe. The girls gave back their payment to support the housmaids but they are able to get National Honor Society service hours for the time they spent. The girls calculated that they personally would have raised over 600 US dollars from their efforts...I know it was more. It looks like the total earnings will be around $3,000. I am so happy we get to share this with both the Philippine Embassy shelter AND the Nepalese women living at the Salvation Army guest house & training center. They made the 3rd prize dress and discovered by some accounting "error" there was actually 90 KD in their envelope instead of 50! Crown Relocations (the sponsor who gave all the prize money) said they didn't know how it happened but they should keep the difference! This was a huge blessing to them. They now house 27 girls without ANY government support. The ladies bake, sew, knot plastic bags, and anything else they are given to do with great enthusiasm. Many of them have been transformed while living in this transitional home.

In the aftermath of a frantic few days, we are urging the video man to rush with his editing, collecting pictures & Emily is editing them, finalizing the finances, all before we go to both shelters to share the evening with our girls who made the gowns. Seeing their pride will undoubtedly be the best reward of all.

Media Mania

Article across breast reads: "Brothel bust could lead to Sex Scandal" Was the designer intentional? hee hee hee

November 6, 2010

On the phone, a frantic voice: "where is the girl's head, we want her head! Why did you cut it off!" After a minute, I gathered I was talking to the ad manager of the Kuwait Times Newspaper who I had corresponded with regarding their sponsorship of our upcoming Fashion Show for Trash to Treasure.

It all started when the welfare manager at the Philippine Embassy ask me if I would be willing to talk to a reporter who had taken interest in the program I do with their ladies. She was eager for this Filipino reporter to do this very positive story about what their citizens are doing (they have had some unflattering press recently.) After I agreed, it became apparent the timing was perfect as we would need some PR for our charity fashion show and Kuwait Times "bit" when we offered to make a newspaper dress to be modeled in the show in exchange for their support & free advertising. So, in addition to the story which he already wanted to do, we would get ad space and coverage of the fashion show which is next week.

Ben came to our home & spent over an hour with me to get an understanding of the program Trash to Treasure. He did not ask me any questions that made me worry about how I would respond. Nothing about why we are in Kuwait, my motives for serving this way, I felt very "safe." He followed up with a photo shoot at the embassy which I was shocked they allowed and embraced. He talked to my "girls" and was a delightful person with real interest in the story. Ben even agreed to connect me with the ad man who would see that info on the fashion show got in the paper.

A couple of days later I sent the "ad man" a very carefully worded blurb about the show that would benefit "needy women in Kuwait" and gave the email of the modeling agency who is putting on the show, for more information & ticket sales. I had just received the finished "Kuwait Times Dress" and wanted to give him a preview so he would know they were being represented at the show. For my hasty photo, I asked Emily to slip on the paper dress just after she'd come home from school and her hair & face were not "picture ready." Even though I knew this was not for publication, I cropped her head in the picture I sent the ad man.

When I got the frantic phone call, I was in the city with Emily but assured him I would take a photo he could publish if my "model" agreed: she did. It was 3 hours later before we got home, got her make-up & hair done & finally took a picture she was willing to see in the paper. We emailed it off and waited for the paper the next day.

Right at the top of the page 4x6 inches at least, there it was! Headless Emily! I guess it had to go to print before we could get him the replacement. If THAT was not enough, he added that the dresses are being made by "runaway housemaids" and for more information please call Cheryl Spessert at 9944 1743...my personal mobile!!! I'm screwed!

I called Michelle, the gal doing the fashion show: she nearly hit the floor. Her partner/sponsor in the country is a Kuwaiti who she feared would not take well to the wording of the article. Two days later when the axe had not dropped, we thought we may be out of the woods. I sent ad man an email and requested my phone number be dropped from future publications.

By mid week I was absorbed in a social responsibility fair at American University where very interested students and faculty purchased $775.00 worth of rugs & jewelry! They also invited me to speak at the lunch hour "diwanya" where ideas are exchanged & questions asked. I was interrupted by a phone call from a friend who watches out for my "back side" and felt I should invite/advise the American Ambassador of the fashion show. Perhaps she would be upset that she was not informed? I had not imagined that she would would care or notice. Yes, I would give her an invitation...her secretary was checking her schedule.

On Friday I got up and went to the website, anxious to see how the story had been told. To my surprise, I had been quoted as saying things I'd never uttered! The gist was there: we want to create something sustainable rather than just handing out donations, we want to give the women a skill so they may be able to generate income back home and stay with their families rather than have to choose between raising their children or providing for their education...somehow that translated into "we're not just giving them fish but we are providing nets." I guess it works! Fortunately, nothing was grossly misrepresented and he told the story fairly. I knew there was "artistic license" but I just never knew you could insert anything you wanted to say into the speaker's mouth in order to aide the flow of the story.

It was not until last night when I was looking at the two page spread that I saw the red block I had first assumed was part of an advertisement...it was NOT. It was My name AND PHONE NUMBER in large letters there for the world to see...and call:) So much for maintaining a low profile here!

Trashion Show

October 29, 2010

Tea lights flickered on the desk, dancing to the sound of ocean waves & flute music. I smoothed the skin across her brow in an effort to press the stress away. Working gently over her scalp, down her neck & kneading my way towards her shoulders I traversed muscles like steel cables tightly strung.

It was "Spa Night" at the shelter and time to pamper our hard working designers who have been working day and night on their rugs, dolls, and dresses that will be entered into the upcoming "Trashion Show" competition. A local modeling school which is run by Michelle, a British lady, offered to teach the women dressmaking techniques using recycled materials, then put on a professional fashion show (which sadly they cannot attend since they are undocumented and at risk of arrest if they leave the shelter.) This show will be a benefit to the two shelters I am working with; tickets sell for around $40. The Holiday Inn here has agreed to give us the ballroom for free, other companies are kicking in donations for printing, special lighting, refreshments, etc. and they will all get exposure as well. Both local papers will report; the Kuwait Times is working on a story on Trash to Treasure now. They have a wonderful Filipino reporter who spent over an hour at my house, then came to "spa night" to get more of the story and photos (miraculously they have agreed without any qualms to let them publish pics.)

I was wondering how I could reward these 30 ladies who are pouring such creativity and time into this project when I got a call from a lady who owns a beauty salon. Rebbecca saw the Trash To Treasure rugs at the British Business Forum where one of our new partners Crown Relocation, was selling rugs for us. She bought a rug & tracked me down to see how she could help. After purchasing 10 rugs, she wanted to do more! She was thrilled to bring her staff to the shelter to serve these ladies who could never afford her services but could benefit so much. Once again, before I even knew what to ask for, God had the answer "in the wings" and Rebbecca came, as promised 2 days later to the women's pure delight.

We set up the room with a table for nails, hair, space to continue working on their projects, and Yolly (Welfare manager) let us use her office as a quite space where I could give a few massages. At their request, I now have Michael Jackson hit songs on my ipod and they grooved to the music while they were pampered & watched each other get prettied up. We got platters of cookies for them to enjoy with plenty of of leftovers. I get teary just remembering the looks on their faces when they broke into applause after I told them the plan for the evening. It was like Christmas morning.

I asked my first "client" if she had any pain or spots that really needed attention. She told me her left arm is partly numb, partly painful...how long? One year. Ever seen a doctor? "When I get back to Philippines I will."

I had to use a very light touch through her arms & shoulders as everything seemed to hurt. I noticed her teeth were crying for a dentist and suffering from lack of care. Within minutes, she began to relax into the mat like butter in the sun. She didn't want to talk, it looked like she actually fell asleep...this was only a 15 minute massage...could she be that tired?

This precious lady ran away from her employer and found herself ensnared for 2 months in a brothel before getting to POLO where she was at least safe. If I were in her shoes, living with 200+ women and 3 bathrooms, I fear I would be upstairs staring at the wall. I know most of them ARE. We get to work with the brightest, most motivated women although the profits benefit everyone in the house. I do wonder what more we could do for the others...

My next two ladies seemed to want to talk while I worked their scalp, face, neck, shoulders & arm muscles. I loved getting to listen one-on-one about the 3 yr old daughter, the 7 yr old son...

Josie told me how she came on a contract to work in business as she has a college degree, but instead was placed as a house maid and has not been paid in the past 4 months. Her arms were small; she thinks they got smaller and weaker as she had to constantly lift heavy objects.

Rosita talked fast as I worked, pent up stories & concerns bubbled to the surface. After a few minutes, tears erupted as well. She wants to see her children when she gets back to the Philippines but then needs to try to work abroad again in a new place so she can provide for them. It sounded like her husband had been unfaithful but it was hard to understand. She told me she does not get enough to eat there, no fruit or vegetables except for beans. She was worried that when she does get to Manila, she will have no means of transportation to the island where she lives since she has not been paid and has no money. (I since determined there is assistance for the overseas workers once they arrive in Manila.) She asked me if I was a "born again Christian" and was happy to discover I shared her faith. When I finished her massage I asked if I could pray with her and she said "that is what I am waiting for."

Before we left I was able to make "bonus payments" to the ladies whose work I had sold this week, give feedback to our top rugmaker on her color schemes, make a fool of myself dancing with the girls to Jackson tunes, and introduce the reporter to the work being done. My faithful taxi driver, Kalai, was waiting patiently outside the locked gate to wisk me away from this world to my "other world" and I wonder, which is the real world?

(I also did a facebook photo album from this evening.)