Buying Jade

There is rive famous for its jade.  Everyday people wade out knee deep in the water searching the stony riverbed for jade and other precious stones.  The men then set up stalls after stall along the road bartering with tourists and selling their most recent find.  These men are known for working together day in and day out standing shoulder to shoulder arguing on each other’s behalf about how authentic the necklaces are with the untrained eye of the shopper.

My latest tour group and I stopped to admire the stones, without any real intention of buying anything.  In fact some of the group hadn’t even brought their money with them since shopping wasn’t on our agenda.  One of the women picked up a dark emerald green bracelet and with ease slipped it on her wrist.  After admiring it for a time she was disturbed to discover it took a little more work to get it off.  She pulled and tugged and twisted before their piece of jewelry finally popped off.  However, it did so with such force that it slipped through her fingers, bounced off the table and went crashing to the ground.  He husband retrieved it quickly, but there was a small scratch on the surface.

Seeing the damage done the husband bravely admitted that now they had to buy it.  I asked if they had found out the price before trying it one, which sadly they hadn’t… I don’t really know the price of Jade nor how to judge its quality.  Since the damage was already done the seller could name any price and I would have no idea how exaggerated it really was. 

He seemed to know it too.  “I would never sell that bracelet for less than $500 USD,” he said. 

I laughed.  There was no way we were paying that price.  I asked the cope how much money they had on them.  When all pockets were turned inside out the totally only added up to about 7 bucks.  I knew that was way too little to come with as a counter offer, so I checked my own wallet.  I had about $75.  (While to be honest I had a lot more.  In the front part of my wallet I had $75, hidden in the zippered pocket behind I had another couple of hundred that was already ear marked to buy our bus tickets home that night). 

 I showed him the seventy five in my hand “This is all I have, big brother” I said with a pitifully forced quiver in my voice.

He scoffed and complained that he could have sold it to some unsuspecting tourist for $700 dollars and that I was just out to cause troubles.  

At this point I had a decision to make.  I could match him angry word for angry word, letting my voice join his in rising to an emotional frenzy.  I often call this getting my fight face on.  Arguing with vengeance for what I see as my right.  If I had one this all his buddies would have taken his side and it would have escalated into an intense me verses them situation.  Or, I realized, I could become vulnerable and try to win him over.

Those of you who know me well know I am not much of a crier, I also don’t often resort to tears as a means to get my way.   But desperate times call for desperate measures.  I held out the $75 dollars a little further in my shaky hands and with a weak voice I entreated him again.  “This is as much as I can give you.  I don’t know what else to do.”

Other men started gathering around us to see what all the fuss was about.  They looked from my pale face and moist eyes to his stone cold stance.  Lying between us was the offending bracelet.  Some of them picked it up to examine the damage… I heard them muster under their breath that it was a good quality one.  “Oh dear,” I thought “now comes the time when they all gang up on me.”  My tears were getting to be a little more real by the minuet.  

The seller nodded that the damage and reported for all his friends in disgust that I was trying to pay $75 dollars for something he could easily sell for almost $1 000.

“There is nothing I can do”  I stated again weakly “I have no solution.”  To my surprise many of the on looking Uyghur men sided with me.  Some of them even put their fight faces on and jumped over the table so they could stare down the seller more intently.  Since I now knew that it was high quality jade I asked some of the others how in our group how much money they had.  Between all of us we collected $160USD, way more than I would ever spend on jewelry from a road side stand, but by this time I looked at it more as stopping a riot and avoiding being dragged to the police station. 

 The crowed had grown to over 50 men by this time.  They were taking sides against each other.  Thankfully the majority of them seemed sympathetic to my plight. They yelled at the seller:

“Look at her, you are making her cry”

“She is a good girl; she wears a head scarf and everything”

“She’s learned out language”

“She says that is more money that she makes at her job in a month”

“Have pity”

“And you call yourself a good Muslim; you ought to be ashamed of yourself”

They grabbed the money out of my hand and started forcing it into his.

“No,” he said, weakening slightly.  “I would have tried to sell it for $1 500.”

The next thing I knew men all around the circle started digging into their own wallets and pockets and adding money to the pile.

The hard hearted seller lost face in light of his coworker’s generosity to me.  I have no idea how large the total pay off sum was, but the seller was forced to accept the offering and reluctantly shake hands with my biggest advocate.  

One of the men laid the slightly damaged bracelet in the palm of my hand with a brotherly “Don’t cry, it’s all okay now.  You guys can go” 

As I backed away I put my hand over my heart and repeated again and agian " Thank you.  Thank you all.  Thank you big brother. Thank you God.  Thank you.  Thank you."

Carpets

I am totally addicted to carpets. I mentioned a few posts ago that I have a friend at the bazaar who sales carpets. He has been giving me a bit of an education on how to decipher the quality of a carpet you’re looking at. He has been teaching me how to tell when they are handmade or done on a machine, whether it is real silk or synthetic. He has even been giving me an idea about what the price should be based on these discrepancies.

All of this foreknowledge made my trip to the carpet factory a few days ago that much sweeter. The factory itself, is a large room filled with huge carpet looms that stretch from floor to ceiling. Depending on the size of the carpet they are working on, each loom has two to seven ladies sitting in front of it working away. Their fingers move so fast you can barely see how they are tying the knots. They have a pattern to work from tucked in behind the loom that they can check for reference when they need it.

I had fun moving from loom to loom and talking to the women and asking them their story. One lady started working at the factory when she was 12, she has now been making carpets for over 40 years. Every day she works tying knot after bright colorful knot eight hours a day, six days a week for a total pay of about $125 US a month. Sitting right next to her is her daughter who also started working at the factory when she was about 12. The daughter was proud to announce to me that she has two children who are both able to go to school.

An average carpet takes 2-3 months to make. I look at that and I think of the handmade carpet in my living room. I bought it 5 years ago before the price of carpets went up so much. It likely would have taken three ladies three months to finish which for their labor cost alone should be a total of about $1,125 US, but I know for a fact I only paid $325 US for it. Doing the math the women sitting at the loom would have been paid less than $36 US a month for all their hard work on the masterpiece that is our living room carpet. As much as I would choke at shelling out the amount of money needed for today’s pricing, I am glad it has gone up if means the third generation of carpet makers can stay in school and get an education.

Here are some of the carpets around our house. The cheap machine made one in the office

The tightly woven handmade wool one in my bedroom

The real silk machine one hanging on the wall in our living room

The big beautiful handmade wool one in our living room.

The Waiting Game

Some of you may know that I am once again in the process of trying to move south. I say once again because I tried it three years ago to no avail. Sadly we can't just live where ever we want or where ever we find work in this country, we need to get a hundred and one stamps of government approval first.

I have already been offered a job in a city that is about a 24 hour train ride from here. Not only have I been offered the job, I have signed a contract and rented an apartment. The job is with a Uyghur handicraft export business. My roommate and I went down to check it all out the beginning of May, but to agree to work for them and finding a home was just the beginning. Now the waiting game starts.

The company is in the process of getting my paperwork done. They originally anticipated that it would be ready by the end of June, which is why I had hoped to be in Canada already ( I have to go back to my country of origin to change from a student visa to a work visa). But paper work takes forever, the company keeps sending me updated spread sheets with an estimated time as to when they should be able to get me the stamped paper work I need to take home with me. At first it was moved to the first week of July, then July 17th, next July 27th and just yesterday they sent me an email saying likely not until about Aug 5th. I can't really buy air tickets home until I have all the local government approval. So I wait.

My friend and I at the office down south, standing in front of one of the carpets that I will be helping to export.

Personal Accomplishment

I just finished knitting this blanket as a wedding gift for my friends (who got married back in April). It has taken me over two years to make the silly thing. In fact, I started it before this couple were even dating, and decided to give it to them much later. I hope they appreciate it, all the work it took to knit each square with a different pattern. Since they won't be back in this country for another month or so, I am currently using it to keep myself warm.

A Night in Square

Every city around in county has its own Peoples Square. In reality it is nothing more than a cemented over area in the middle of town that features a monument or a statue commemorating something famous. But in practice it is one of the most happening places. Ours features a ten foot squared television screen where they will often show sporting matches, rides for kid, dancing for adults. It is the heart beat of the city. Despite all of its amazements and distraction, I rarely make the trip on the bus anymore because it seems whenever I go I draw way to much attention.

If you saw the video I sent home a few years ago, you may remember the scene with the expatriate youth doing a crazy Olympic night, we held that at the Peoples Square. That night we gathered a crowd of over a hundred people just standing and staring at us.

The other night one of my friends asked me to join her at the square. I was once again overwhelmed by the number of activities that go on there and the number of people just hanging out. After wandering around for a while, my friend and I joined a group of people who were painting ceramics. It beats me as to what is so fascinating about two western girls doing crafts… but at least thirty people stopped to watch us. Even one of the guys who worked there taking pictures for the tourist stopped by with his camera. I told him we didn’t want our picture taken. But he insisted. He didn’t want to sell us the picture of ourselves; in fact he wanted to use it at his booth for advertisement. So now I am forever promoting the fun that comes with a night in the Square.

Fashion failure – Fashion fabulous

If you read my last post you might have taken notice of the dress I was wearing in the picture. I know… I know, it looks like a rainbow threw-up on me. But as hideous it looks to you and as much as I felt like a fashion failure wearing it, the truth is, out here it is the height of fashion fabulous.

The dress is made from a very famous fabric called atlas. Traditional atlas is made from silk and then dyed bright colours and woven into intricate designs. When I was down south I got to go to the factory and see the process first hand. As interesting as it may be, the material is still a little much for me personally. But every time I inculturate myself and put it on, I get so many compliments. As far as fashion is concerned the Uyghur rule is the brighter the better.

Thankfully right now I still live in the big city on the university campus. Most of the girls at the school have been effected by western culture and TV. Therefore most day I can get away with wearing just jeans and a sweater. But watch out for holidays when I pull out the atlas and try to fit in.

Boiling the silk worms

Weaving the fabric

An atlas seller in the local market