I couldn’t help but think that switching to machines would be faster and much easier than sitting on these back-breaking stools for hours on end. But after hearing that these folks' direct ancestors developed this knowledge of hand-making fabrics and rugs, I knew the weavers here were preserving their culture and traditions through their practice. These people don’t want to see their culture hanging on a wall, in some museum; they want to experience their culture. They want it to be a part of their daily life, just as their ancestors did.
As a beginner, I needed clear and thorough descriptions of each step, and my teachers, though only 13 and 15 years old, were masters at this craft, making them effective teachers. Like makers in the U.S.A., these weavers had learned these skills at a young age. The only difference is that in Tetotllan de Valle, these skills are a part of the culture and upbringing in a way that connects local people to the land and their ancestors who developed it. The young weavers walked me through carting the raw wool to clean it; spinning it on a spinning wheel to turn it into yarn; dying it with natural dyes; and weaving it on a loom. I was so excited to be in this environment and to absorb all their knowledge, yet I was unsure if I was handling the fibers correctly and was timid about touching the looms. In the workshop, they gave me a ground-up bug used in traditional dyeing. My job was to mix in the acid, in this case, lemon juice. A chemical reaction would occur and cause a color change. It was basic chemistry and part of their culture for generations, yet I was afraid that in my hands, the concoction would not work. In my mind, somehow, I had the power to “break” this tradition.
