Blog Archives

Meeting Barry, Nguyen and creating JadeMonster.

Sock creatures galore!

One day I was introduced to Barry III, a floppy lovable little creature made from striped socks.  Out of the bag, Barry was followed by half a dozen equally strange and adorable friends.  I wanted all of them, but I couldn’t have them – they were already adopted and heading for new homes many miles away from where they came.

At the Workshop.

Barry and his brethren are made by Nguyen (pronounced ‘Nwin’), a wonderful young woman who has been making and selling sock creatures for the past seven months at the Lifestart Foundation Workshop in Hoi An, Vietnam.  My mum, Karen Leonard, is the founder and director of Lifestart so I often check out the new stock as it is released.

I spent yesterday afternoon with Nguyen, her mother and sister-in-law at their home 10km out of Hoi An, Vietnam.  We were greeted with a table of fresh fruit and tasty custard buns – she knows me well!  I have spent the past few weeks working with Nguyen creating the JadeMonster, my very own range of sock creatures, so it was lovely to spend some time with her away from the workshop.

Nguyen and her mum at home.

Before Barry and the JadeMonster, life for Nguyen was a little different.  She lives with an inoperable condition commonly known as ‘a hole in the heart’, which renders her immobile 12 hours each day while she is connected to two large oxygen tanks.  Her condition often leaves her unable to leave her bed for days at a time.  Consequently, holding down a typical full time job in Vietnam (well in excess of the standard 40 hours per week we expect in Australia) has been very difficult for her in the past.

She needed a job that could be flexible in hours but also create enough income to cover her living and medical expenses.  Fortunately, Nguyen was introduced to the  Lifestart Workshop which creates income earning potential for women from disadvantaged backgrounds.

To begin with Nguyen made embroidered cards but her creative talents were soon discovered when a volunteer brought in a prototype for the sock creatures.  At first Nguyen – and all the ladies at the workshop – were very skeptical of the potential popularity of these weird looking dolls made from socks.  Sock creatures did not exist in Hoi An before Nguyen and her initial thoughts were that they were crazy and silly and that they would not sell in the shop!

These reservations were quickly blown out of the water.  Within six months the sock creatures have become the most popular item in the shop, selling as quickly as they are placed on the shelves (literally – I’ve seen her put one on the shelf and it gets adopted immediately!)  Nguyen has now broadened the range of her sock creatures she makes and everyone seems to develop an immediate favourite.

With the first JadeMonsters!

Since starting work with Lifestart, Nguyen has been able to purchase a motorcycle, greatly increasing her mobility and independence and her income has doubled, allowing her to fulfill her immediate goal of providing some simple comforts for her family home.  She can now work flexible hours depending on her health without fear of losing her job.  She takes home 100% of the money she makes from the dolls.  Some of the socks she is using to create the JadeMonsters are donated by a Melbourne based sock manufacturer, which reduces her costs considerably.

Nguyen comments on the improvement in the quality of her life.  She now has a wonderful support network among the other women at the workshop, her English is constantly improving due to English classes and her regular interaction with tourists and she greatly enjoys and appreciates the opportunity to work with and meet so many people.

JadeMonster logo!

To me, Nguyen’s sock creatures spread bundles of happiness all around the world – they each carry a small piece of Nguyen’s resilient spirit inside of them.  I’ve witnessed people from all walks of life break into spontaneous, glowing smiles when they see these creatures.  I am so overjoyed to have the opportunity to work with Nguyen on the JadeMonster.  Should you chose to purchase one, I only hope it brings you as much happiness as creating them does for me!

To have your very own JadeMonster, please visit http://www.jademonster.net.

Comments (1)

Out of the Arms of India.

Now I see why people have written so many songs expressing gratitude for India. Alanis Morissette’s “Thank U” comes to mind instantly.

Thank you India, thank you providence
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you nothingness, thank you clarity
Thank you, thank you silence
The moment I let go of it was the moment I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it was the moment I touched down

On arriving in India, when we were headed for our fateful stay at the ashram, Fiona questioned how anyone could find peace, solace and equilibrium in a place that appears so out of control, off its axis, chaotic.

I pondered this and responded that perhaps this was indeed the very best place to find the stillness we were both searching for.

I feel at home in Asia, strangely. More at home walking the messy sidewalks, dodging motorbikes, autos and poop than I do here in Singapore with the cleanest and neatest sidewalks I have ever seen – certainly rivalling those in Melbourne. Even the alleys and laneways are clean here.

Sure, it’s quiet here – there is a certain Prosaic peacefulness in the air (perhaps Valium in the water?) that allows one to actually notice one’s independent thoughts, but cities such as Singapore and Melbourne present no immediate external or sensual challenges.

To be aware of yourself crossing a road in Singapore is quite different to being aware of yourself crossing a road in India. No emotion is aroused crossing a road in Singapore – you will make it. If you cross the road in India, you are filled with an instant gratefulness to be still experiencing the joy of life.

India had me somewhat hypnotised, and I concerned myself with thoughts of my lack of creative production, not to mention my lack of blog writing. Now that I am out of her grip, I am better able to reflect on the myriad of lessons I learned.

The frenetic external bombardment I experienced in India was almost perfectly balanced by my brain’s ability to create such inner stillness and quiet that I really ceased to be productive. Not necessarily a state I would like to live in perpetually, but interesting to notice.

I would liken my internal state whilst in India to Philip Glass’ “Escape to India” from the Kundun album.

In a city of over five million people, I saw so many faces everyday. I am still naïve to the intricacies in the social tapestry of India. I am reminded of words by Sinead O’Connor:

Perfect Indian

He’s shy and he speaks quietly
He’s gentle and he seems to me
Like the El Farrow
His face worn and harrowed
Is he a daydreamer like me?

I don’t know if I can believe that if you hand one of these many faces the keys to their emancipation that they will simply throw them back in your face, as Aravind Adiga (author of White Tiger – a fabulous book, well worth the read) suggests. But perhaps centuries of expectation have ingrained an understanding into the psyches of “these people”.

I remember a scene while we purchased pasta and cake from a tea stall in 8th Main Road. A small child came up behind us asking for money, as many did. She was filthy and shoeless as they all are. We had made a decision not to give money to beggars, but given we were at the tea stall we were discussing buying her a samosa to eat. Two young Indian university students, also purchasing lunch from the tea stall, told the stall owner, a gruff older man with a decent paunch, to wrap up a veg puff and give it to the girl behind us. He flatly refused, once he knew the puff was for the child. “No. They will become expectant. You can’t do that with these people. You can’t buy her food”. “But she’s hungry!”. “No”. I looked at the child. Is she just one of them? I was struck by the scene of the stall holder who looked not at the child’s eyes, but at her matted hair and dirty hands, the young women who possibly saw a human element in her hunger and desperation, and us standing in our Havaiana thongs that could pay for a month’s worth of food for her and her family.

I will not be just another tourist who feels terrible about the child and signs up for a monthly donation to a largely administrative charity organization. I want to make real change. I’m not sure how just yet, but I’ll keep you posted.

But for now, it’s farewell and thank you to India for clarity and insight.

Indian Summer - Music by Victor Herbert, lyrics by Al Dubin.

The particular version I listened to was sung by Tony Bennet from his Unplugged album, which consequently has a brilliant duet with k.d. lang.

Summer
You old Indian summer
You’re the tear that comes after June-time’s laughter
You see so many dreams that don’t come true
Dreams we fashioned when summer time was new
You are here to watch over
Some heart that is broken
By a word that somebody left unspoken
You’re the ghost of a romance in June going astray
Fading too soon, that’s why I say
Farewell, to you Indian summer

Comments (3)