This Post Isn't Really About a Wallet

A few weeks ago, in Jinja (a city about four hours away from my home), I bought a new wallet. I’d already had a wallet that I’d bought in the Central Region of Uganda, and it is beautifully made, but I’d bought it out of necessity and my only option at the time was to buy one that is red and green—Christmas colors.  I love Christmas colors... for exactly two months of the year, and those months have come and gone. But this wallet had held up very well for a wallet that cost only a few thousand shillings (maybe two or three US dollars, I don’t remember exactly) so I kept using it.

            Until I was out shopping with my friends and I decided to treat myself and buy a new wallet! I found one that was the same style, but had a beautiful print of Africa in light brown and mint green. I bought it, and…promptly lost it. I put the shopping bag that it was in underneath my chair when we went to the pool that day, and I just forgot it. I felt like a total space case, but oh well, at least I hadn’t put anything in it yet. I chalked it up to “shit happens” and put it out of my mind.

           

             And then last week, Kara and I were walking down the street in Mbale (a town about 20 minutes away from my home) and we happened upon a shop selling local handmade crafts. Kara knew about my failed attempt to own a new wallet, and saw that they had wallets inside, so we ducked in for a quick second to glance at them, since we’d had another destination in mind. This shop didn’t have anything like my wallet, but I liked a small piece of artwork and took my wallet out to buy it. The shopkeeper noticed my wallet and she absolutely loved it. I was a bit taken aback by her enthusiasm, but I let her inspect it and then she had me promise to return the next time I was in Mbale so that she could measure it in detail, cut fabric, and make one herself.

            Well, today I am again in Mbale (to get the medicine for my stomach infection, which Peace Corps sent to the Post Office here). I stepped inside Dorothy’s shop and she was so happy to see me! She remembered my purpose there as soon as I took out my wallet, and said that God must have had it all planned out, because she had actually been about to leave to run errands, so I wouldn't have found her there if I’d come a few minutes later. She immediately grabbed a piece of beautiful pink fabric and began to measure my wallet and cut the fabric accordingly.

            I mentioned to her that my grandmother had loved to sew, and that I'd loved watching her work. Dorothy loved that, and also thought it was hilarious when I told her that my friends and I'd had two sewing machines in our apartment at school, as even here in Uganda it is a bit abnormal for young girls to be interested in sewing. And then from that point on, Dorothy started explaining every step of what she was doing so that I could learn. I ended up spending almost two hours at her shop, chatting a bit, but mostly just sitting in companionable silence and watching her work.

            I learned that she was born in Kampala, Uganda’s capital, but her father is of the Bagisu tribe so she and her family moved from the Central Region to live here in the Eastern Region. She herself has three children, all boys, and she actually has a son who lives in Florida! He got his undergrad in engineering here in Uganda, and then got his Master’s in America and currently works as an airplane mechanic.

Almost finished!

            After a few hours, much hard work, and ripping out the stitching to restart a section once or twice, Dorothy ended up creating this lovely pink wallet! Another beautiful aspect is that it is truly handmade—most of the sewing machines I have seen here in Uganda are the old Singer machines, which are powered by a foot pedal instead of electricity (which isn't very reliable here). So, I guess a more accurate term would be footmade? But you get the point, haha. A lot of work goes into making these small, fabric pieces of artwork.

            And then I made it to the Post Office (yes, dad, I picked up my medicine) and my favorite coffee shop (Endiro, in case anyone was curious) to write this just in time to avoid being caught in the intense rainstorm that’s happening right now! I know I say it too often, but it’s so true—every day here is an adventure.