Victoria handmade was reborn in the same year that my dear mother leave this universe. And I know today that it was not a fluke of fate.
Over these 5 years of struggle to make handicrafts worthy of their value - and not the poor artisan - comes to mind again and again on a summer afternoon, sitting on the end of the old sofa in my grandmother Vitória's living room where my family's loom stands, my mother's while sewing a basket, ask my father who was weaving on the loom:
The silence was heard. I saw in my father a face of doubt, but his mouth did not open. My mom just had a shrug as an answer.
If it were today, I would have liked to be able to answer what I know today, and what she wanted to hear:
- Oh Toino, do you think the baskets will be used as they used to? Every house, every basket?
The silence was heard. I saw in my father a face of doubt, but his mouth did not open. My mom just had a shrug as an answer.
If it were today, I would have liked to be able to answer what I know today, and what she wanted to hear:
- Yes mom, I believe.
But I also know that it is this memory, and this doubt, that gives me the strength to fight and not give up weaving baskets for the whole world. To not leave this family tradition that I have in hands, and the legacy that I have from Portugal on my shoulders, to die.