EMBROIDERY CLASS
Vangelia
called into the cafenion “The Farmers union are running a special
scheme for farmer’s wives; you will qualify if you are interested.
It means we all go to the old school every morning for three or four
weeks and the union is providing a teacher for us to learn to do the
traditional Cretan embroidery with a sewing machine rather than by
hand.” “What will it cost?” I asked. “Nothing “was the
reply “In fact they pay you for your time!” It seemed like a good
idea to me. I could learn something and get paid for doing it. “The
idea” continued Vangelia is to help the farmer’s wives to
increase their income.” The village already had a women’s
co-operative where they made and span silk and sold many forms of
handicrafts. “Ok count me in” I was enthusiastic; after all it
was November with nothing much going on until ‘Olive season.’
Vangelia was very active in the women’s co-op and her husband
worked for the farmer’s co-operative dealing with insurance and so
on. She was a typical farmer’s wife always very busy with her
family, and in her spare time doing intricate embroidery. They were
also in the throes of building tourist apartments with a swimming
pool so she was always in a hurry.
“You
have a sewing machine?” I answered in the affirmative. “Bring it
with you we will start on Monday at 8, 30 am. Can’t stop!” she
rushed off to recruit another pupil. “Well, what do you think?” I
asked Christos “Why not?” he replied “After all you will be
paid for going!”
Monday
morning it was raining as I walked the through the village to the old
school. When I arrived I found a motley assortment of women ranging
in age from about 25-85. The older women in their black garb and
headscarves, the younger ones smartly made up, and all varieties in
between. One of our company was “Deaf Eleni” who enjoyed having
long conversations but was difficult to understand until you
understood her own idiosyncratic sign language. She had a very earthy
sense of humour
and had perfected the gestures necessary for this vocabulary. She
was a short stout woman with mousy grey hair always in a bun on top
of her head, and could often be seen riding sidesaddle through the
village, on the back of her husbands motorbike.
Many
times she would be sitting with her husband in cafenion and as an
acquaintance passed she would ask with graphic gestures if the person
had ‘had it’ the night before. This could be a little
embarrassing if one was with visitors who did not know Eleni.
I
sat opposite Maria who was the wife of the local carpenter, she
had two grown up sons but always treated them and spoke about them as
if they were still babies. She also had the tendency to tell us about
her experiences in giving birth at the slightest opportunity. By my
side sat Kyriakoula short, dark and pretty. She came from the
island of Ikria and had moved to Crete on her marriage some twenty
years before. Her husband had been a policeman who was sent to work
on her island and thus they met. All the women were chattering and
laughing until our instructress-Voula- called us to order. We began
by learning how to control the machines doing freehand embroidery. My
machine was quite modern and relativity easy to handle, some of the
others however had very old treadle machines which could probably
have been sold in some English antique shop for a tidy sum. Many of
the women could do exquisite embroidery by hand but until now had
never tried to do it by machine. We spent some time admiring the
handiwork they brought in to show us each morning. Each piece was the
product of many hours painstaking work. Anna the sister of the local
electrician was working on her trousseaux and brought some hand made
pillow cloths that were carefully embroidered with rainbow cotton
that faded in and out of colours.
As
we were working we could not help but hear Eleni holding court at the
other side of the room. Because of her deafness she had of course no
idea of how to control the volume of her voice for the few words she
could manage. She was obviously telling of her bedroom exploits of
the night before. Given that she was about 70 years old short and
dumpy and her husband was older and not exactly Sean Connery, most of
us did not really want to hear about it! And certainly not in as much
detail as she was delighting in giving! She was almost impossible to
stop once she was in full flood.
“So
he took me” this with full gestures “and he was so big I thought
that my eyes were going to be pushed out of my head!” There was a
choking sound from one of the more straight- laced elderly ladies and
stifled giggles from around the room. By this time all thoughts of
embroidery had fled and all ears were wide open “Then we did sixty
nine” she continued oblivious of the various reactions of her
captive audience. “What’s sixty nine?” piped up eighty year old
Christina with an innocent expression in her pale blue eyes. “You
had better ask your daughter tonight” replied her
neighbour “It’s not really something we
can discuss right now”
At
last Eleni was subdued by her neighbours
and the class continued, with a break when the bakers van came past
and all rushed out to get their daily supplies.
The
following morning the weather was a little better but not much “Good
for the olives” was the general consensus as we settled to our next
task. “Did you ask about 69 Christina?’” asked the woman
sitting next to her. “DID SHE?” exclaimed the woman sitting next
to her “She asked my husband in the car when we gave her a lift
home! He nearly drove off the road!” There was a burst of horrified
laughter “You should have seen his face!” Old Christina made no
comment bending her head over her work her gnarled hands smoothing it
carefully. She was probably mulling over her newly acquired
information! She had learned rather more than she had expected at
this embroidery class.
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