When Hurricane Stan passed over Santiago on October 5th, 2005, the rain provoked mudslides so extensive that they buried an area a mile wide and several miles long over the village of Panabaj. 350 homes were destroyed, and that many more were filled with rocks, mud, and debris. In some areas the mud measured 3-4 meters deep. 100 bodies were located, and three times that many disappeared, including nearly 100 primary school children from one school alone.
Everyone in the community lost loved ones, and in some cases, entire extended families
disappeared. Many survivors were pulled out of the mud or plucked from treetops, stripped bare of their clothing, as well as possessions. Early that morning, I asked a survivor how bad it was a few hundred meters away, and he answered, "It is gone. It no longer exists."
On the 20th of October 2005 I began a project to supply back strap looms and thread kits to the women of Panabaj, Guatemala who had lost their homes. It started with an observation by the Priest that he wanted to buy the women traditional clothes for their identity, followed by the musing of my cousin who wondered who could make the clothes. It hit me like a piano. I started with 18 used looms, and the help of a Tzuitujil woman and her mother who are friends of mine. I depended on them to help me chose the correct materials and make the right decisions to put the women at ease with the project.
My motives were threefold. First of all I had the very strong inspiration that if the women could begin to weave, as they sat traumatized in the shelters, that they would lose themselves in the weaving and begin to recover from the tragedy. The art of weaving is part of their religion; it is intrinsic to their identity both as Mayans and as women. I felt very strongly that it would anchor them.
Secondly, they needed their traditional clothes to help restore the order to their existence. For many, their clothes had been literally torn from their bodies in the mudslide along with the rest of their possessions. Returning their clothes to them would be an important step in restoring their cultural identity, a great source of strength. Tzuitujil women are reluctant and ashamed to wear western clothing, even temporarily. Weaving the traditional clothes themselves would be the most economical way to provide the clothing.
Thirdly, important tools would be replaced for them, providing them with a portable way to later earn income. The portability appealed to me, because they were a group of refugees whose future home would remain unknown for some time.
As the project grew, I began to see the project as a way to support the preservation of the culture.
In traditional Mayan societies a woman's identity, gender role, and spiritual life is literally woven into textiles.
From the Classic Period to the 21st century, Maya identity has been inscribed in cloth. During the Colonial Period, women encoded cosmology and place in intricate designs not easily decodable by the Spaniards. In the 21st century, weaving is again being used to craft a broader political identity.
In Maya societies, gender roles are clearly defined and back-strap weaving is anchored in the realm of feminine activities. From childhood to old age, women are involved in all aspects of weaving from growing cotton, spinning, preparing the loom, weaving the cloth, and finally embroidering important cultural information into the fabric.
In Maya culture, weaving is inseparable from a woman's life cycle. Birth and fertility are conflated in the act weaving. Cloth is born, rather than made, just as a child is woven together in its mother's womb. In the process of weaving, women reenact an important Tz'utujil belief that an ancestral tree gave birth to all existence. As they tie their looms to the post they connect themselves to the original tree of life reenacting this ancient belief. The rope becomes the umbilical cord tying them to eternity.
Through time textiles have also functioned both as commodity and a reservoir of wealth, allowing women the means to supplement her family's income without compromising her familiar obligations.
Finally, from a psychological perspective the act of manipulating colors and patterns and composing a work of art activates a type of intelligence that cultivates balance, harmony, and allows an internal restorative process to take place. The artist's internal reserves are replenished, allowing her to become a source of strength. So the act of making art serves another purpose: to help keep the weaver in a state of emotional well being which also benefits those that she comes into contact with.
Weaving has successfully maintained the Mayan culture for millenniums. Even through their transition and migration to the highlands, the practice flourished. The change that has disrupted the balance has been the relatively recent process of globalization.
In the new global market the labor required to produce hand woven textiles have transformed them into a luxury item that increasing numbers of women can no longer afford to maintain. With cheap machine made clothing readily available, more women are abandoning traditional clothing for everyday use. With less demand for labor intensive traditional designs and limited opportunities for financial reimbursement for their work, fewer women are practicing the art, and fewer still with a breadth of knowledge in its techniques.
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