First Pay-out- Circa 2005
I bought a Kifaru matchbox with my very first earnings when I was about five. My mother paid me Ksh 5 for twisting 50 strands of yarn for weaving. In 2026, they would earn me about Ksh 16. While most weavers have hacked the process of twisting against a piece of wood, we still do it by twisting two strands of sisal fibres on the surface of the thigh. In the end, one's thigh can get pretty sore and red.
I have always suffered severe irritation when exposed to the sap from sisal plants, but young me persevered. Retrospectively, I think I did it because my siblings were also interacting with sisal and the weaving process in one way or another, so it was only natural, but also it was nice to actually be paid for my work. I remember feeling like such an adult.
Under my mother's roof, every one of us knew how to work with sisal fibres, sooner or later. For the most part, my mother did not believe in paying her children for their diligent services. We ate. We had a roof over our heads. We schooled. What more could we ask for? She considered what she gave us tokens of appreciation, not payment we were entitled to. However, as my siblings neared adulthood, she started to compensate them for their work.
Back then, my mother made baskets for buyers from far away that would come to the village on set collection days, biweekly, sometimes monthly. We were effectively useful hands in her factory. As our little world opened up, she took a bold step to go to the buyers herself. It made her first big trip to Kenya's capital. She went out with just 17 size 10 baskets (10- inch base diameter by 10-inch height). She sold all seventeen baskets, and it's safe to say life has never been the same again ever since that point of no return.
At the time, that was the biggest size of baskets that was produced in the weaving communities. For the longest time, I wondered if the basket appeared big to me just because I was small, but it turns out, as my mother agrees, that even to her and her friends, it appeared pretty big too. It's comical to think about it now, because on my last trip home, I saw a 30’x30’ basket. I could easily fit in it. In a way, the sheer difference in these sixes has made me reflect on what has been made possible because of time. We didn't just jump from sizes 10 to 30. In between are new sizes that came as a fulfilment of the growing needs of consumers. Time forces skill to grow, but only if that skill is maintained, preserved, nurtured, and protected.
Growing up in a weaving community and having partaken in various bits of the weaving process over the years has given me great appreciation for weaving. I may never be able to weave a size 10 basket (allow me to brag that I can weave a mini size 4x4, though), but it is not lost on me what goes into weaving. It is not lost on me that this is art and culture. It is an identity. And while this appreciation was nurtured through the free labour I “offered” my mother (I love my mother), I want MILA to appreciate the creativity, the time, and the skill of all the artisans involved in a just and fair way.
