Shaemah is one of the Afghan widows who made dolls for Rising. She had two daughters and two sons; she was too young when her husband was taken from the family. When Shaemah joined the Nadera Doll Project, she looked too nice. Unlike the other widows, who look too depressed and sad, Shaemah was a healthy and young woman. It was hard to believe that she was a widow. Shaemah would laugh all the time and talked openly.

 

Sadly, two weeks after our Rising Team was able to interview Shaemah at her home in Kabul, we learned she unexpectedly died from a heart problem. While Shaemah is no longer with us, we have her story to share, and in her place her eldest daughter has taken on the responsibility to care for the family and sew dolls to sell with Rising International.

 

She shared her life story like this:

 

I was in secondary class eight of school when my family engaged me to my husband, Ahmad. After one year, we celebrate our wedding party, and in accordance with Afghani tradition, I stayed at home and I couldn’t continue my studies. But I was too happy in my own family. Our economic situation was good. My husband could afford a home and a lot of property.

 

Then the Mujahideen government came to power. My husband’s cousins, who left Afghanistan during the communist times, came to Kabul. Because my husband had much land and many properties, the cousins would come from time to time to our home and would talk with my husband. They seemed like very close friends, but after a few months, they threatened my husband and told him, “You were a Communist because you lived in Capital of Afghanistan (Kabul)!”

 

My husband never told me that his cousins threatened him. Then, one day, when I was busy in the kitchen my husband came and asked me to give him one pot with which to bring some vegetables from our garden. I gave him a pot, and he went away. Five minutes later, I heard our gardener shouting, “Ahmad was killed by a person who had stood above the garden’s wall and shot Ahmad.”

 

We all ran to the garden. He was laid out on the soil, and his blood filled all the ground, the gunshot ripped through his head. My small children and I shouted a lot, but there wasn’t anyone to help us. All of my husband’s relatives lived in Pakistan, and there wasn’t anyone in Kabul to bury him. My eldest son, who was 14 years old, called our neighbors and they helped us make a grave him… We couldn’t keep his body because there was simply too much blood.

 

After my husband was killed, our dark life began. My husband’s cousins arrogated our lands. They stole from our home and shops. They took many things. These events made me look for a job, but because I didn’t graduate from school, I couldn’t find a good job. I started taking a typing course, and when I passed my typing courses I found a suitable job in one of the governmental ministries. Unfortunately, my income is too little and it is not enough for us. Because of this I make cotton dolls.

 

When we asked Shaemah about the benefits the Doll Project has had on her life, she said, “In every round of doll’s I sew, I make about 3000 - 4000 afghani, and it helps me to pay for my children’s course fees. My salary from the government is only 2500 afghani per month. I am thankful for this doll’s project. It has improved my life economic.”

Click to view products from the Afghan Dolls Project

Afghan Gal is one of the Afghan Dolls Project widows. She is 41 years old and supports her 5 children, one grandchild and her sister-in-law. She lost her husband 14 years ago, and has a sadness about her.

This is her story:

 

When I was married, we had very calm and happy life. We lived in Chal Saton District in our own house. My husband had one taxi and he would work from 6:00 in the morning until the evening, near 6:00pm. Because of this our economic situation was good.

 

But after the coming of the Mujahideen government, Afghanistan’s security wasn’t safe and fighting was in every district of Kabul. One day, when my husband left home for his work, he didn’t come back home that night. We tried a lot to find him but our effort  was negative.

 

Eventually, after six months, we got his corpse from a collective grave west of Kabul. His hands and legs were tied by wire.

 

His killers first killed my husband, then they sold his taxi. We hadn’t a person at home to work for us, and my children were small babies. They wanted my milk. My concern for my children’s lives made me to do every kind of work I could.

 

It is my bad luck that I am illiterate, so I had to find work as a servant of rich people, but my income was too little. I had to borrow money from one of our relatives. With this money I made a one women bakery. After four years I became sick and the doctor ordered me to stop bakery, because from the wood’s smoke I got tuberculosis.

 

During those times, I made my oldest son go out to sell pens and notebooks in front of schools. I will never forget… one day my son came home and he was crying. He shouted, “I want to study like the other children! I stand near the schools every day, but I can’t go to school.” I told him that you don’t have a father, so you must earn money for supporting life for your younger brothers and sisters.

 

When we asked Afghan Gal if she is happy with the income she receives from sewing dolls, she said “why not? I am happy, and with dolls income I can pay for my children’s courses fee. Now my oldest son can go to school. I want to be making dolls in every month.”

 

 

 

Click to view products from the Afghan Dolls Project

 

Josephine is 34 years old. She has 4 children of her own, and also cares for the 4 children her husband has from a prior marriage. 

This is her story: 

I can start by telling you how I escaped to Congo in 1994. I was twenty. We escaped because of the division in Rwanda. People were being killed because of the divisionism. I escaped with my parents and siblings because there was no security.

While we were escaping, we suffered from much hunger. We had no food. We had no water. We only had the one clothes on our bodies and there were lice in the clothes. We were hiding at night and walking during the day. We walked for three days to Congo. We escaped because the Interahamwe told us the country would be attacked by RPF.

During the escape I separated from my parents and arrived in Congo by myself. There was a cloud of people leaving for Congo. There were so many people you could not count them. I watched two children die because they were kicked.

When I arrived in Goma (DRC), there was no water or food, but after one week I received help from friends. There were many many dead bodies. There was deadness. Every night we were weeping. At that time I was living with many people who also escaped to Congo. Some friends brought us mats to cover at night. My parents searched and searched for me. After a week they found me. After they found me, my father died. He died in Congo.

We lived in Congo for two years. At night I would sleep on the ground next to many many people. We lived like this for two weeks. An aid group came and helped us find mice and gave us beans, peas, rice and vegetables. Many groups came. I do not remember all their names. We lived like this for two years.

After two years, the government of Rwanda sent a bus to take all the exiles back to Rwanda. We refused to go because we were afraid they would kill us. A week later they came back and moved us by force.

We came back to our house. We found our house burned by fire. Many of our things had been taken. We did not find any of our domestic animals. When we got here [Rugendabari] the government tried to help us as exiles and because of the many trips we were very tired. Hence our mother died. At that time we start to cultivate to grow some plants.

While I was in Congo I got married, but my husband died fighting. He was fighting with the Interahamwe, but after the war he joined the Rwanda army. He died fighting in Congo with the Rwanda army. He left me with one child.

After that I got married again. So I am married to a man who was married before. His first wife died of sickness, and he had four children. Together we make a family, but I am not happy. His children despise me. He does not treat me good.

I joined the Zamuka Cooperative a year ago. I make money from selling my baskets. I would like to sell them for a very long time.

As of May 2009, Rising has helped Josephine make $384 through her baskets.

Click to view products from the Rwanda Basket Project

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Feresita is 44 years old. She is a Hutu, and today she cares for six of her children in Rugendabari.

This is her story:

 

During the war, I had nine children. I had two children who fell sick and while I was escaping to Congo these two children died. One was 5 years old and the other was 2 years old.

 

At the beginning I had to hide at the sector office because rouge people wanted to throw me in the river because they thought I was a Tutsi because I was so tall.

 

I escaped and hid on the roof of my house, but one day I fell from the roof and broke my right leg. I walked to Kabgyi hospital with my husband, but even there the soldiers where killing people. It was very hard. My husband sold any metal we had at the house so we would have money for the hospital, but it was still difficult. I had to leave my children with other family members when we went to the hospital.

 

I came back from the hospital and my leg was not fixed. My family needed to escape to Congo. While we were escaping, my child fell out of a tree and broke his arm. While we were marching to Congo, we would use sticks to dig sweet potatoes from other peoples’ fields. We did not cook the potatoes. We just ate them raw. We had nothing else to eat.

 

While trying to escape in April, my two sick children died on the road to Congo. I could not bury them. I did not continue to Congo after this. I took my living children and returned to Rugendabari to try and find a home.

 

In Rugendabari, my mother and two sisters burned to death when a RPF helicopter shot at the house by accident and the house caught fire. Today the house is the same. We have no money to fix the house, so it looks like it did during the war.

 

During this time we would hide in the valleys and forests. We traveled with mats for warmth.

 

After the war, I returned to Kabgyi to fix my leg. They had to cut my leg and they put metal in my leg. I had to sell my field to pay for this. Because of my leg, I can not work in the field.

 

I joined Zamuka Cooperative one year ago because I had no work because of my leg. I use the money from selling baskets to buy one field, which I have today. 

 

Feresita was the first to celebrate her first basket sale to Rising. She clapped and danced and was so grateful. She hopes to buy more land so she will be able to leave land for her remaining children.

 

As of May 2009, Rising has helped Feresita make $456 through her baskets.

To view products from the Rwanda Basket Project

Sylverine is 35 years old. Her father was a Hutu, and her mother was a Tutsi. She now lives in Rugendabari, Rwanda with her husband and children.

This is her story:

 

At the beginning of the war, I was living with my sister, but she died because of illness, and so I moved to stay with my brother.

 

The Interahamwe were hurting people called Tutsi. At that time, we dug a hole in the ground and put trees over it to hide. We were six persons at that time, but my brother went to Kigali because that is where he had a job. He died in Kigali.

 

Many times they [the Interahamwe] came. They came with machetes, hammers, hoes. They came during the day and during the night. They were looking for people hiding in the fields and in the bananas. Because of this we had to stay in our hole. We had a very small hole to breathe through.

 

One day my father sent my sister, who was in her first year of university in Butare, to find food. When she was returning the Interahamwe stopped her. They made her lie on the ground. They told her to tell them the names of everyone who was hiding or they would kill her. At that time a respected man came and pleaded for her life. The Interahamwe let her go.

 

We lived in our hole for almost three months. Finally the soldiers came to rescue us.

 

We knew the soldiers had sex with many women, and so I was afraid to marry my husband because of SIDA [AIDS], but after many years I agreed. My husband went to fight in the Congo for two years, and during this time I was alone and it was very bad for me. (Note: originally her husband went to Congo to tell the refugees to return to Rwanda, but when he arrived in Congo he found the first Congo war and stayed to fight.)

 

During these two years I lived with women whose husbands were also fighting in Congo or Uganda. There were three of us. Two would become widows. First we lived in Gitarama, and then we moved to Butare. We lived with orphans, people hurt during the war and sick people. I taught these children, and I also was a midwife.

 

After two years my husband came back and found me in Butare. We were married in Nyanza after his first return from Congo. He was later called back to fight in Congo. He left me pregnant. When he returned my son was so old and did not recognize him. He was shot in Congo. Once in the arm and once in the knee. He is now disabled.

 

I joined the Zamuka Cooperative 15 months ago. When we started this cooperative, people laughed at us, but this cooperative has helped me. It has helped my family. It has been very good for my life.

 

As of May 2009, Rising has helped Sylverine make $348 through her baskets.

To view products from the Rwanda Basket Project

Petronille is 29 years old. During the war she was 15 years old. She is one of eight children. She now lives in Rugendabari with her sister, her children, and two other orphans.

This is her story:

 

During the war, we slept at our neighbor’s house where many families had gathered. When the soldiers [Interahamwe] came, we ran and hid in the forest and in people’s fields. I did not have an identity card. At night people would come and kill others without asking about identity cards. They were strangers who were directed by neighbors to kill.

 

They took my father and jailed him for one day. They took him because they said he was a fighter. In the morning, the authorities took all the prisoners outside, and in front of everyone they shot all the prisoners. I did not see my father get shot. I only saw his body with the bodies of all the other men, dead. (Note: Earlier in the year Petronille’s father had won a legal settlement against a neighbor. It is believed that the neighbor accused him of being an RPF fighter as revenge against his legal victory.)

 

After they killed my father, we walked that night to a family member’s house for safety. It is here that my mother fell ill. We hid for one month. After the food ran out, we were left with a thin porridge for breakfast, and then nothing else for the whole day.

 

When we returned home, we went to find the domestic animals we had left with a person we knew the Interahamwe would not kill. When we returned, we got our goat and cow from this person, and we began to weave mats to make money. Our fields were still there, but all our crops had been removed to feed the army.

 

For one year we lived with our neighbors comforting and protecting us because they knew our mother was ill and how our father had been killed. During this time seeds were not available, and we struggled to grow food.

 

At the end 1995, my mother died. Our standard of living became very bad. My three older sisters had been married, and so I was the oldest person responsible for my other siblings. We had a terrible problem of famine.

 

Today I am still at home with my older sister, and I am still not yet married. I live with my sisters and two other orphans. I would like to get married in the future, but today I want to help those younger than me so in the future they can help themselves.

 

Petronille joined Zamuka Cooperative 15 months ago. Because of the cooperative, she does not worry about feeding her siblings. She feels it is such a blessing to have help from the cooperative, and is so thankful for the women who buy her baskets in America.

 

As of May 2009, Rising has helped Petronille make $468 through her baskets.

To view products from the Rwanda Basket Project

Cambodia is a country recovering from the loss of nearly a third of its population. Thirty years ago, during a 4 year genocidal war conducted by the Khmer Rouge, an estimated 1.8 million Cambodians lost their lives.

Phaly, (pronounced Polly) a Cambodian woman, suffered horrific hardships and unimaginable cruelty. Of her family of five only she and her youngest son survived; before her eyes, her other children succumbed to beatings ,torture and starvation. Her husband was taken away in the regime's first days and was later found, but he had been beaten so severely he was mentally incapacitated. After the war ended, the family was herded into a Thai refugee border camp for 13 years. It was here in the midst of continued chaos, that Phaly began her work.

In the camp, she met many women who had suffered from similar brutalities. They seemed paralyzed - they were inactive and silent. They we're not feeding or caring for their own children. She saw that although they had survived the war, it was unlikely they would survive their depression. So she set up her hut in the camp as a sort of psychotherapy center.

Here she guided them through 3 steps

• I teach them to forget. I try to distract them with music or with embroidery or weaving, with concerts or an occasional hour of television.
• When they have learned to forget, I teach them to work.
• When they have mastered work, I teach them to love.

She rescued them from physical isolation. She built a steam bath so that they could become clean. She taught them how to give one another manicures and pedicures so they could feel beautiful again. While being together they began to talk, and over time they learned to trust and make friends with one another. It was Phaly's hope that they would realize they would never have to be so alone again.

When she repatriated to Cambodia after 13 years in the camp, she took with her 9 widows and 91 orphans and opened up F.L.O. (Future Light Orphanage). She has continued on the same path. She now houses 157 children and all told has 299 in her care. The orphans and widows are creating beautiful silk scarves and purses to sell to the western market at Fair Trade prices. RISING International is honored to offer these precious items at it's home parties.

It is said that if you save the women, they will in turn save the children, and so by tracing a chain of influence one can save the country.

 

- By Paula Kanoute, a fair trade advocate:
I had the honor of meeting Phaly and visiting the F.L.O early this year. This experience changed my life. Together we can support remarkable people like Phaly, by supporting the Fair Trade movement.