A reflection by Erin

As she twirls around the circle, the lines left from age and heartbreak seem to fade from her face, if only for a few seconds.  Impromptu dance parties are wonderful sights to behold, and even more glorious to partake in. One recent afternoon, while we were sewing, and stitching, and laughing, a particularly catchy Bengali song came floating over the radio waves, and the music got turned up.  Soon, people began dancing, and I don’t mean a gentle swaying back and forth, I mean DANCING…high-energy motions that compel others to join in the fun.  The beautiful ladies of Sari Bari have seen, and know intimately some of life’s most tragic hardships – but they still know how to dance, and it is incredible. So, as you journey along, don’t be afraid to spark up a few impromptu dance parties. They are good nourishment for the soul, and you never know who may join in.

A Reflection by Natalie:
I have been working with the Sari Bari ladies for 2 weeks now and their joy never ceases to amaze me. They are always so willing to teach me Bangla while they work. This week we were preparing a shipment of products and it gave a better look at the process it takes to get products from our Sari Bari locations to the United States. It involves a lot of work labeling, packing and taking photos of all the beautiful products. I have such a greater appreciation not only for the women but also the American staff that work every day with these ladies. There are some great products coming soon.

A Reflection by Melissa:

Today I stepped on a needle at Sari Bari. Obviously, it wasn’t my best case scenario in any way. After pulling the needle out of my foot, I sat in the office (but the cry of pain when it happened alerted the women that something was up). Rohima, one of our managers came into the office with me. Really, i wanted to be left alone. I wanted to take care of my foot the way i wanted to, and I didn’t want to pretend that it didn’t hurt that bad, and I didn’t want to cry in front of Rohima. But I didn’t get what I wanted. I got so much more. We started digging through the medical box, looking for what how to clean and bandage my foot.  (just so you’re not too concerned, the needle went in deep, but hardly bled).

Rohima literally washed my foot. This is a culture where feet are considered very dirty and shameful. She washed my foot. I still kind of can’t believe it, and I had to fight the urge to pull my foot away from her. She washed my foot. So gently, making sure I was taken care of. An expression of love. We put some ointment on, and she put a couple band-aids on too. It was humbling. It was beautiful.

A reflection by Melissa

I’ve been wanting to sew my own sari blanket. Last week Chaya helped me start an Original Sari Blanket. It was amazing to watch her work. She is an expert. As I watched her tackle the task I could almost watch her think. She was solving problems, working from different angles, making mid-stream corrections to ensure that everything was done right. No detail escaped her attention. Perfection. She knows exactly what she is doing.  She is a skilled artisan, and an incredible teacher. She demonstrated the steps. She showed me how it should be done. She observed as I took over, to be sure I was not missing something.

It would be impossible to count how many times Chaya has started a blanket at Sari Bari. The blankets she has sewn herself, the co-workers she has helped, the new trainees she has taught. I can’t even begin to imagine how high the number is. I wish you could watch her work.  It is beautiful.

A reflection by Brooke

We sat together preparing for the work day and I rested my hand on her leg… it’s a casual way
to sit with one another in Indian culture… and in my mind, a way of developing and encouraging
community with another person. After a few minutes of mindfully letting my hand rest on her,
she picked up my hand and enveloped it in hers. As if allowing my hand to rest on her wasn’t
enough… she embraced me more in receiving my gesture of intentional fellowship – a gesture
that doesn’t require any spoken words and in some ways I think surpasses limitations of speech.
I love working in a place that isn’t just about the product we produce… we are a community of
folks who give and receive from one another.

You know the type of person that brings out the best in you? The people that make you want to try a little harder? To do a little better?  Those relationships are pretty amazing. Recently I saw this play out at Sari Bari.

First, a little necessary background information: each woman at Sari Bari sews one type of product while she is at Sari Bari. (Many women bring work home in the evenings and over weekends to earn extra money, and they can sew whatever they want then, but they’re product specialists at Sari Bari. This allows them to become experts at the product they sew, which allows them to sew faster, and earn more money. It also helps us know what to expect in any given month in terms of production).  At the end of every work day a manager goes to each of the women and tracks how many lines they sewed that day. It’s a way for them to track their progress, and to set measurable goals for themselves.

A few months ago one of our newer employees started sewing baby blankets. She sews very fast, works diligently, and is very driven to earn money to provide for her family. It really is beautiful to see how dedicated and hardworking she is. She sews about 70 lines a day. She sews in the same room as another woman who has been sewing baby blankets for quite a while. A few months ago, this second woman was sewing about 35 lines a day. But every day she would hear the first woman say that she sewed 65 or 70 lines – and slowly the possibility of sewing faster seeped into her mind. And slowly the number of lines that she sews in a day has increased. Now she sews 50 lines a day.

Fifteen more lines a day. That is significant. It means she can complete one more blanket a month. Which means she earns more money.  Which makes life a little easier.

Yes, she had to decide to work a little harder. To be more focused. To try a little harder.  But the spark came from a co-worker sitting across the room working hard for herself. No one planned this when the two of them started sewing in the same room. It’s just beautiful, unexpected fruit from relationship, and from freedom, and confidence, and desire overflowing out of one person, and onto another. They’re bringing out the best in each other.

A reflection by Beth

Some days for all the difficult stories, struggles, pain, disappointments that we experience, that we hear on a weekly basis… the redemptive moments peek through like the trees on the side of buildings here, like the flowers in cracked cement, like a break in the monsoon storm. The women inside our four walls often interrupt me mid-worry, and when Sari Bari heaves with laughter, I am caught off guard by life, and the potential for freedom that surrounds us all here. The laughter is contagious, hoots and hollers over mispronounced English words (one woman calls my leggings “huggies”), marriage, cooking, the lastest TV shows. Truly this place brings me to life, reminds me in the midst of worry and frustration how resilient and incredibly beautiful each one of our women are.

Even as I write, another round of belly laughs have just started in the room next door, an office full of great story tellers and a great audience… what an honor to receive such reminders of life and energy… certainly laughter is a healing balm for us all…

Written by Sheila Yoder

I went home this summer for my brother’s wedding. The days leading up to leaving when I was telling the Sari Bari ladies I was going home were the days that I have yet cherished the most. The ladies never let us forget how much our leaving hurts them; yet as they say good-bye, they shout out words of love and desire for us to return. They make sure that we understand why we are leaving: to find a husband (or in Kyle’s case, a wife)— we never agreed to try to find one, but they are certain we will do our best.

It is always in their minds to make sure that our lives are taken care of for the future, which is why they always remind us to find a spouse. In their culture, a woman without a man means she is vulnerable and will die destitute; they do not want this for us. There has even been the suggestion that some of the ladies will take our unmarried female staff to the park in order to find a suitable Bengali boy. Never mind that we don’t like these methods of husband-hunting, the ladies are certain we need to do something—anything! As one woman put it: “If I want to sew this blanket, I don’t ask God to sew it for me. No, I must pick up my hand and begin sewing.” There is a bit of truth in that.

There is no doubt they love us. When I returned from the US, one of the ladies told me that while I was gone, she had a dream that I died. When she woke up, she was so scared. As soon as she got to work, she shared her dream with all the others and they prayed for me. I would prefer the ladies not to have dreams about me dying, but even as I heard the story, I heard her love for me. Her worry means that I mean something to her. The fact that they all prayed for me, means that they want what is best for me.

I look at our ladies and smile. The ladies are our family here. American and Bengali methods of communicating love and concern are often very different. Despite the differences, though, the love is communicated. For as many times as they tell us to get married, that many times over we know they love us.

A guest post by Kyle Schroeder, friend of Sari Bari, about his Freedom Drive

When I was a kid The General Lee came to my hometown with the circus. It was then that I learned there were more than 200 orange cars used in the filming of the Dukes of Hazzard television series. This means that at least one reality of the early 80’s TV show was a steady stream of vehicles moving in and out of body shops for repair after being used to outrun crooked authorities or jump medium sized bodies of water.

This makes sense to me now because every week, my family watched the airborne auto nearly fold in half at touch down. Yet every time a cut away shot followed quickly with Kentucky cousins shaking it off and leaving the leap site at full speed in a completely unscathed Dodge Charger.

More, or less, dramatically (I am not sure), Gary Haugen, director of the International Justice Mission, in his book Just Courage, remembers acting as a charger for his children when they were afraid and unable to sleep.  ‘With a running start I would throw myself into the oblivion of their bedroom. Enveloped by the dreaded darkness, I would freeze in the middle of the room. My children, clutching stuffed animals waited breathlessly in the hallway to see what the terror and darkness would bring. Each time, — nothing. So they would line up, giggling over the anti-climax, and rush in themselves. What they needed was someone to charge the darkness first, and then quite marvelously they found their chains of fear melting away.

In 1995 I made a commitment while in Southeast Asia, to remember the poor. 2006 was my introduction to the movement to end contemporary slavery. And truthfully, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time out in the hallway paralyzed by the fear of darkness, stunned by the measure of harm one human being can do to another, and no less surprised by my own capacity for self-deception.

I am embarrassed by this, because God is greater still. Our heavenly Father, through the mystery of Christ, has charged the darkness. He has named His children the light of the world, calls them to live lives of justice and asks them to walk with Him in humility.

For so many, myself included, Sari Bari has been a humble expression of this light in our world of darkness, a garden in the desert, beautiful color glowing from the ashes. It is the rarely arranged marriage of both bravery and safety.

Earlier this year I sent an email to Sarah Lance in Kolkata describing a road trip I was planning to take in an old Volkswagen and asked if Sari Bari would help customize the interior of this 1964 survivor Beetle. In May, I received four really bold door covers hand-sewn by a precious woman named Bida. Formerly bound and abused in the commercial sex industry, Bida has a new life now and any person that climbs into this people’s car sees her name. They are surrounded by the product of her courage and reminded that our Father came into our sister’s room to charge the darkness.

On July 27, 2011 we are taking the road trip: Four cylinders in support of four organizations fighting against people selling people, ‘Miles,’ the world’s first abolitionist spokescar will travel 2,700 miles to raise 2.7 million dollars on behalf of the estimated 27 million people enslaved in our world today.

Text ‘FOLLOW’ to 50555 to receive trip updates. Text ‘SLUGBUG’ to 50555 to give $10 dollars to the fight against human trafficking. Visit sttfreedomdrive to follow the story that stops traffick.

$10.00 donation to Word Made Flesh. Charges will appear on your wireless bill, or be deducted from your prepaid balance. All purchases must authorized by account holder. Message and Data Rates May Apply. Text STOP to 50555 to STOP. Text HELP to 50555 for HELP. Full Terms: www.mGive.org/T.  Word Made Flesh has agreed to distribute all proceeds from the Freedom Drive equally among The Salvation Army, Not For Sale, International Justice Mission and Word Made Flesh.

‘Miles,’ the world’s first abolitionist spokescar, is not affiliated with or endorsed by Volkswagen AG or Volkswagen of America, Inc.

A reflection by Melissa

We’ve been here since 10 am.

A day at Sari Bari is full. Full of work, laughter, stories, the radio in the background, tea time, problems to solve, jokes, the occasional spontaneous dance party, lunch break (followed by nap time), and sometimes conflict. (We’re like any other family – we’ve all got our own stuff…conflict at home, stress, personality conflicts, health issues, money worries, miscommunication). You never really know what a day at Sari Bari will hold – but it will always be full.

It’s 7pm. Everyone has packed up for the day. Blankets are folded and stored, needles, thread, scissors and the ever important needle threader are all safely tucked where they belong. Saris have been re-draped, lunch boxes gathered. The windows closed, lights, fans and radio all turned off. Closing time.

It’s been another long, full day – and we gather to close it together. We’re all off to our homes. There are family members to look after, housework to be done, meals to be eaten, friends to see.

But first we gather back together in the room where we started the day. I stand there joking with my sisters. Our work is done, we gather simply as family, and we close our day together.  I can’t shake the feeling that this is sacred space.