Not many, but a few to conclude that progress is slow but consistent. I took stock of how many women artisans owned stalls in this diverse business district. ![]() In what I can only describe as organized chaos.Īn impressive system of multiple workshops crowded together I watched artisans create, taking scrap metals, upcycle materials, bone pieces, and turning them into designs fit for royalties. So, it was not surprising at all, on a sunny day in Nairobi, to find myself standing in an ally, a familiar environment, marveling at the ingenuity of artisans. This was my exciting childhood and my experiences growing up in Liberia will forever serve as a reminder of the dire needs of under-served communities. Women knowing my mother was a nurse, came with their sick children looking for help or a ride to the hospital. For them, to whom much is given, much is required, and that meant we had an open-door policy.Įveryone in the community came knocking for assistance. My parents never shielded us from the hardships of life. I learned to build a fire using firewood in Toma’s grandmother's makeshift kitchen. Toma had lots of chores, so to go off running around with me, I had to help her get her work done. My “yard friend,” as the phrase goes in Liberia, lived with her grandmother. I remember many days growing up in Liberia I used to run between zinc houses, playing carefree with kids in the neighborhood. ![]() Supporting Local Artisans In Nairobi Kenya
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