Who gets the last brownie?
Or more likely in Burma, the last piece of jaggery?
You remember the scene in Notting Hill, where the characters compete over who has the saddest life. It is Richard Curtis at his best, curtailing our chortles with a choke as he layers the hilarious with heartbreak.
At Kalinko, we think about the concept quite often, and of how subjective personal struggles are. One person's unfortunate dropped egg is another's trigger for despair. And in the context of Kalinko, in the UK we may be grappling with a customer order lost by the couriers, while a maker over in Burma is struggling having lost their entire home and livelihood to the conflict.
Of course, it's all relative. But sometimes we stop and think about what our makers are going through, and it does make us think twice before getting our our tiny violins over spilt milk.
For instance, our bamboo placemats are currently out of stock. This is because the family who make them couldn't get hold of any bamboo–the bamboo supplier has fled his home as he lives in a conflict zone–this means they can't make anything, or make any money. We've helped them find another supplier, and fronted the bill for a year's supply (the minimum order), so they're back up and running, but it's been a tricky few months in the meantime.
Our marble makers live in a town called "Marble" in the shadow of a marble mountain. Although they are rarely in town any more as it isn't safe–they are more often than not in makeshift homes in the jungle out of reach of the fighting. Sometimes it's safe enough to go home, and they make a few items for us while they're there before fleeing again. We received a tiny order in our latest shipment, and will hopefully get more in the next, but it's hard to predict, and even harder for the makers to predict when they'll next sleep in their own beds.
Our bean bags are made right in the north of Chin state in north-west Burma. They're metaphorically cut off from the rest of Burma by miles of mountains, and often practically cut off by roadblocks which stem the flow of supplies. They therefore often can't get hold of the cotton they need to embroider our beanbags, or have to make do with the colours they have to hand, and when they've finished, we have to wait for the road to be clear so that the bus can bring them down to us. This can sometimes take weeks.
The workshop that makes our glassware has had to close down the two small furnaces used for mouth-blown glassware–the rent on the land they were on has quadrupled following inflation and they can't sustain it any longer. We're helping them adapt one of their larger furnaces which is usually used for semi-automatic pressed glass products so they can restart mouth-blown glass production, but again, not without significant hurdles and a painful cutback in the business they can accept.
Our bedspreads are made on old-fashioned looms just south of Mandalay. Most of those looms are in pieces under the rubble left behind following the devastating earthquake at the end of March. Ma Nandar has one loom up and running now and is running a very small production, but she is a long way off getting back to where she started.
Our team in Yangon is working closely with our makers every day, finding creative ways to overcome these challenges and keep their crafts alive. Many of these products are still available now, but once they’re gone, it may take some time before they're back.
By choosing to support these makers, you’re doing more than just buying beautiful, handcrafted items—you’re helping preserve livelihoods, traditions, and hope in the face of real adversity.
We're so grateful for those of you who read these emails, follow our progress and buy our products. It is a comfort and a joy to know that you care–don't underestimate the impact you have every time you buy, or send a supportive email–they always give us a boost.
