Mirrors and More

[Continuing journal written by Chiripa partners on a recent buying trip.]

August 20, 2008

Today we had a good breakfast, because we knew there would be no lunch. Then we plunged into the depths of the San Miguel artisan market, to finish the work started yesterday. At the market you can buy many small treasures from the artisans themselves. By mid-morning, we had a good collection of Huichol beadwork, amusing coconut heads, hand-carved flying angels and other items to make you smile.

Huichol artist painstakingly picks up beads with a needle
and places them on the carved form that has been coated in beeswax.

We got back to the hotel just in time to meet Ricardo, who took us to his home workshop where he makes fine tin and ceramic mirrors. His wife sells eggs from chickens raised in the yard.

Eggs for sale at the doorway of Ricado's home and workshop.

While we talked to Ricardo, an artisan fashioned tin and Ricardo’s wife and daughter painted some of the finished pieces (the baby looked on). Ricardo is a gentle and painstaking man who speaks some English, and he spent a long time selecting just the right tile combinations for the mirrors we ordered.

Working is a family affair.

Later we met with our friend Felix, another tin artist whom we met quite by chance 3 years ago (Chiripa!). We climbed into Felix’s old pickup truck (just as we did when we first met him 3 years ago), and he drove us to his home in the country.

Of course we'd get a ride back!

Felix told us how, like many Mexicans, he had to drop out of school early to work for a living. He worked for a time in Texas, caring for racehorses. Eventually, he used his native intelligence and artistic sense to start the small tinwork business that now supports his family. Sitting in an ornate old wooden loveseat in Felix’s modest home, we picked out a selection of stars, mirrors, luminaries and other tin items that will delight you soon.

Beth goes over details with Felix.

Before the day was over, we visited a number of other artisans in the San Miguel area. We also visited Victor Manuel Torres Osuna, the man who consolidates and transports our craft shipments from the San Miguel area. This evening we are tired, and the rain is again splashing in our hotel courtyard.

A Man of Few Words

Victor Manuel Torres Osuna is a patient and efficient man. He is slender, and has a somewhat Asian appearance. He radiates precision and practical intelligence. He wastes few words, but means what he says. He writes down little, but remembers all. He speaks only in Spanish, but smiles with apparent understanding when we speak among ourselves in English.

Whenever we are in San Miguel, we pay a visit to Señor Torres because he consolidates and ships our San Miguel orders to the exporter in Guadalajara. All of the San Miguel artisans know and respect Señor Torres.

Today we arrived at his shipping establishment unannounced, and without any prior notice. Señor Torres recognized us and, as always, invited us into his tiny back office. He sat behind his small desk, studying us amiably through his glasses like a Zen master. As always, he wore an agreeable but slightly ironic smile.

We asked whether it was possible for him to consolidate our San Miguel shipments, as he did last year. “Por supuesto” (of course). How much will it cost? “Pues, depende, no?” (well, it depends, doesn’t it?). Can you collect the shipments from the artisans, for storage here? “Claro que sí” (of course). Can you deliver the consolidated shipment to Guadalajara in 4 weeks? “Sí.”

We told Señor Torres that, last year, everything had again arrived in perfect order. He smiled, and responded in Spanish: “Yes, but I was not paid the 2,800 pesos ($280) owed to me for the shipment.” He stated the precise unpaid sum without consulting any invoice, account record or computer screen. We were stunned. The exporter in Guadalajara was to have paid Señor Torres as part of its service to us, and we had received no notice of the nonpayment (either from the exporter or Señor Torres). Yet the shipment had occurred a year ago.

We immediately paid the overdue amount to Señor Torres in cash, without consulting the Guadalajara exporter, because there is something about Señor Torres that tells you he is always correct. We counted out the peso bills. “Gracias,” he said, smiling, “Nunca he tenido ningúna problema con ustedes” (I have never had any problem with you folks). Then he wrote out a precise receipt acknowledging the payment. And that was that.

[We regret that we do not have a photo of Sr. Torres. If you have read this far, you probably have your own picture of the man we rely on in San Miguel.]