Buy Us Ice Cream
Adelle swung by to pick me up in her car to meet our newest refugee artisan. All I knew was that she had four little boys and that she was sewing hand embroidered bookmarks after the boys went to sleep at night. Driving through the local neighborhoods, Adelle and I were able to handle other Woven Dignity details. Soon, the neighborhood changed into buildings that were run down and uncared for. As we climbed the stairs to Malak’s apartment, I couldn’t take it all in fast enough. The stairs had pieces of crumbled brick from where the building was disintegrating. The word “Condemned!” should have been written across the entrance way, but instead the building was fully occupied. I could feel the eyes of the tenants watching the foreign lady arrive. Electricity wires ran everywhere in haphazard, couldn't-care-less, chaos. Four flights of stairs and we arrived at the “home” of Malak and her children. This home was one room with a tiny kitchen attached. There was one window with no