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From buying through selling Floating Stone
Enterprises is about people, building relationships and community.
Scroll down or click on the titles below to find out more.
The Floating Stone Story
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VALUES
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SILK STORIES -
POLICIES
The Floating Stone Story
Lynda Drury - Owner and creator of
Floating Stone Enterprises
 After
years of teaching part time at North
Island
College and running a
community development consulting business it was time for a change.
Dreaming big resulted in a brand new direction, a
business that combined social justice, working with people from
different cultures, a passion for silk and a love of travel
adventures. The rest was written in my heart and
Cambodia
was calling. All that was required was to show up and commit all of
my savings, time and inner resources to the project!
This was not a
sensible thing to do. The elements of risk are way too high.
Shipments go astray, the global economy tanks, dye lots are
unpredictable, producers get ill, global weather patterns produce
tsunamis, typhoons, floods and on and on the obstacles appear…and
disappear.
All of which
contributed to the name, Floating Stone and my mantra, “there are no
obstacles.” This business is about doing what most people consider
impossible or too much work for a reasonable financial return. It is
about the intangibles like being called “aunty” by a sweet faced 6
year old who is just starting to speak English and “sister” by
Cambodian women friends who are also business colleagues. It is
about being surrounded by meters of silk in a stunning array of
marvelous colours and being able to pick and choose any combination
for our designs.
Other intangibles include meeting amazing world
travelers who jet into
Cambodia
to do something about the empty bellied children, the dire lack of a
social safety net and the horrors of human trafficking. The list
goes on and on… Check out our new
blog for updates on the Floating
Stone Story.
From buying
through selling Floating Stone Enterprises is about people, building
relationships and community. We l live in a global community but we
seldom have the opportunity to understand much about the lives of
the people who work very long hours for very little money to bring
us beauty and adornment. Floating Stone believes that fashion is fun
and can be a fantastic opportunity to share with others.
We offer silk
products that are unique, original designs of exceptional quality.
We purchase
from suppliers that are small scale business enterprises, cottage
industries and self help organizations.
We buy from
businesses that are working to enhance the well being of others and
are contributors to their communities.
We seek to
form long lasting business and personal relationships with suppliers
and customers to enhance the trade experience for each person in the
chain of exchange.
We work
together with producers to ensure that the western demand for high
quality can be met and we seek to understand what our producers need
in order to meet those demands. We are committed to a reciprocal
process where we both learn about each other’s situations.
We only
purchase products that are made through non-exploitive means.
We ensure that
people employed by our producers are paid fairly, provided with
holidays, nutritious food, choices and respect.
We explain to
our customers some of the difficulties and hardships that exist for
our suppliers. We seek to have them understand that dye lots vary
and hand work means irregularities in the product.
We are
committed to reflection on what is working, what is not and how to
work more effectively at creating a better business model that is
good for all the people it embraces.
 (Matia
Meyer, the daughter in Silk Stories below and print designer for
Floating Stone, with young boy selling cloth at the beach in
Sihanouckville, Cambodia)
Silk Stories from
Southeast Asia – Importing from the Heart (with
revisions May 09)
Oh what relief! We have found a dusty junction
with a grubby little roadside stand and hooray, bottled water. My
daughter and I have been walking, stumbling and muttering, for over
an hour under the Cambodian tropical sun in search of drinking
water. We are greeted by curious children and barely noticed by
really tired dogs. Almost immediately three women appear on motos
(small motorcycles), the typical mode of transportation all over
Cambodia
for those that can afford it.
Just like we pounced on the water, the women pounce on us
hoping to sell us the scarves cascading in a riot of colour over
their arms. Looking down at the blisters on my feet and over to the
dust streaked sweat running down my 17 year old’s face it is pretty
clear that I am going to have to buy some of these over priced
scarves of dubious quality, in order to negotiate moto rides back to
the ferry.
 We
came to Mekong Island,
near Phnom Penh in Cambodia, looking for hand woven
silk pieces for my import business. Besides the shy smiling weavers,
working on lengths of garishly dyed silk destined for the commercial
market, we found little else besides polyester scarves intended for
tourists, and a great deal of poverty. The deal is cinched with the
scarves and the motos are hired. We are three on one motorcycle and
two on another and thankfully on our way back to the ferry.
By getting out
to the weaving villages we didn’t find what we were looking for but
we did observe a little about the lives of the people who live
there. Homes are built on stilts to keep the sleeping area dry
during the rainy season. Weaving looms are set up under the home,
shaded from the scorching heat. This is where a lot of daily life
takes place. Meals are prepared, children play, there is almost
always someone in a hammock as well as pets and domestic animals
lingering and lounging about.
Here, people
make next to nothing from the rice growing, weaving and other work
they do. Most Cambodians live rurally in abject poverty, many
disabled from landmines and demoralized from the horrors of Pol
Pot’s genocide. On top of it all, they graciously suffer the
indignities of tourists, gawking at their meager lifestyles, hoping
to buy stuff at rock bottom prices.
Comparatively,
life in the weaving villages sounds like paradise when you hear the
shocking stories associated with the large factories. Factories are
one of the prime recruiting areas for the sex trade vultures.
Demoralized by the conditions of their employment, too many women
opt for the harsh reality of the sex trade rather than toil in the
sweat shops. Cambodians are desperate for work and the opportunities
are very limited. Many are essentially forced to work in the
factories or the sex trade if it means feeding families.
 This
is a country where there is no social safety net and no health care
assistance. Orphans roam, looking for garbage to sell or eat. Four
year olds start solvent sniffing to fill up the hole in their hearts
from being entirely alone in the world. Babies are “rented” by
beggars, drugged and dragged around touristy areas to ply the tender
hearted. Amputees, survivors of the still present landmines, are as
much a part of Cambodia as are lotus flowers.
So here is the
dilemma. How do I make an import business work and stay true to
voice in my heart that screams, “Do not take advantage of the
impoverished circumstances of people.” Importing with a social
conscience is an adventure requiring a great deal of commitment and
endless flexibility. It starts within, listening to the voice of
compassion and continues by following the road less traveled
wherever it leads.
It is easy to find all sorts of amazing stuff in
Asia. You can go to the mother of all markets in Thailand and shop ‘til you drop.
There are shippers set up on the perimeter of the market just
waiting for boxes to fill up with funky clothing, textiles, cleverly
constructed doodads, religious icons, jewelry, chic home décor,
crafts from every nation, and a multitude of other temptations. They
will have them sent to Canada, waiting on the doorstep
before you can get home. Or for those who want the air conditioned
malls there are plenty of those too, just brimming with cheap
factory goods. Thing is, it is pretty predictable that most of the
stuff comes from sweat shops or from people who were paid next to
nothing for their hard work.
My importing adventure got started in
Bangkok in Thailand, “The
Land of Smiles”. Bangkok
is not for the faint of heart, spewing out so much pollution that
you can taste it. This is a city of over 1 million people with
unbelievable traffic. Temperatures in the inferno range combine with
humidity that leaves you drenched and parched the instant you step
into it. You get weird rashes, sore throats, burning eyes, headaches
and more from Bangkok
traffic. Crossing the road is an adventure in itself. The best way
to safely navigate the road is to get close to the locals. Really
close! Abandon your sacred personal space, and cling to them like
sauce on a noodle while weaving through the traffic whizzing by in
both directions.
Getting close to the people, in my experience, is
the best part of the adventure. I started purchasing from small
shops where it was easy to establish a rapport and connection with
the people working there. The shops were located in what seemed like
massive rabbit warrens with tiny streets and passageways choked with
people, motorcycles bearing huge loads, food vendors, street
hawkers, and beggars.
My first supplier had some funky bags that caught
my eye. We made a deal and I waited to see if the bags would show up
at my home in Canada. They did and all went well.
She has been of invaluable assistance in getting me started. She
patiently helped me find shippers and warned me away from people and
places where I would likely fall prey to the criminal element in Bangkok. She mostly employs young people who
are deaf and mute. She also looks out for the younger street
children, encouraging them with small jobs for food and pocket
change, in the hopes that they won’t get caught in the criminal
snares. I don’t know who made her products or if they came from a
large factory. But I do know that without people like her, life on
the streets for the vulnerable would be a little worse off.
Getting close to the people is also the best way
to determine if any of the products I want to import have any
redeeming social value. How do you talk to suppliers or ask them
about such things as fair trade? Mostly I don’t. Cultural
difference, language and the lack of relationship all get in the way
of getting answers. What they know is that most people want their
stuff for the least amount of money possible. They are painfully
used to North Americans, Europeans, Asians and other tourists coming
in and “bargaining” them down. So they counter with strategies that
make some tourists feel “ripped off” The bigger questions are, “Are
we paying fair prices and what are the underlying ideas constructing
our notion of ‘fair’?” In the west we can think about, talk about,
hold conferences about and set standards for so called free or fair
trade. In the East, for most people, survival dictates that they
work as hard as they have to for whatever they can get. How fair is
that? Don’t get me wrong, we have to work towards fair trade but I
worry about what happens to all the people who will never be able to
participate in anything that offers them anywhere close to a
fair deal.
Wages are only
part of the picture. The broader working conditions and associated
impacts are really important too. Social capital has to be figured
into the equation. For example, if a person can stay home in their
village and work for a small wage doing piece work they can
contribute in other ways to the family or community. Food
preparation for the family, keeping company with the elders,
watching the children, rearing food animals and so on are examples
of these activities. While the person may be able to make more in
the city, all of the other family needs have to be filled by someone
else.
Family bonds are highly valued and separation from
family and community is often a last resort. But many are forced to
leave their homes to become one of the 40,000 taxi drivers in
Bangkok
or to some other urban center to work in shops, set up a food
stalls, work in sweat shop factories, work in the sex trade or find
some other means of survival for themselves and their families. It
is not uncommon to meet people who are only able to visit their
small children once or twice a year. Social capital recognizes the
intangible values of family and community life.
In the quest
for products that have socially redeemable qualities I spend a lot
of time building relationships with suppliers. It happens slowly. I
hang out, observe and chat. Mostly we understand each other but
often context and meaning get quite confusing. I curse my inability
with language and admire their multilingual talents and incredible
patience. We muddle through our differences to make deals,
understand shipping arrangements and agree on quality issues and
timelines. When I return time and time again and keep purchasing the
trust starts to develop. Questions about staff, product origins or
distribution chains and so on are easier to ask. Mostly the answers
are not what I want to hear but it is always an education about the
reality that small businesses here are working with.
I look forward
to hanging out with several of the shop keepers who have become
friends over the years. They tell me about their lives and dreams,
their musical interests, special holidays, their health, about the
problems with their business, their fears for their teenagers, their
abusive or philandering husbands, their political concerns, the
tourists who offer them money for sex, and all the stuff of life
that makes up their reality. We help each other. Sometimes I edit
their marketing materials for English speakers or help with
assignments for English language school. I offer input on the
quality and colour preferences of western customers. I fundraise to
help pay for medical expenses. But list of things that they do to
help me is way too long for this article. Their generosity is a
lesson in itself. They always insist on feeding me and offering me
special things, like bird spit. Good for the health I am told.
Initially my suppliers were small family
enterprises in Bangkok
and in other far flung cities, towns and villages in
Thailand,
Laos and China. My search continued for silk
products that were as fairly traded as possible. There has not been
any silk produced anywhere in the world that has the official “Fair
Trade” designation. While only a handful of them are close to what
could be called “fair trade,” there are a growing number of silk
product businesses trying to address production and employment
issues.
I have visited amazing
cottage industries where women are trained to work with silk. In
these “factories” working conditions are good; babies swing in
hammocks between the looms, smaller children play nearby, food is
cooking, dye pots are steaming, orchids cascade down from latticed
sunscreens and there is lots of laughter and chat.
 Tremendous
pride is taken in showing the various processes associated with the
creation of piece of hand woven silk. In some of these places women
are trained to a level where they can work independently. Some
choose to start their own businesses, others continue to work for
the factory. Some weavers return to their villages and do piece
work. They have choices about how to make a living and where they
are going to live. But these situations are still relatively rare.
There are some non-governmental organizations (NGO’s)
that are trying to assist with skill development working with silks
and other textiles, as well as lots of projects that are aimed
towards poverty relief. While I salute their intentions I want to
work business to business. From my own experience it takes a lot of
guts and determination to be a business person. My goal was to find
businesses in South East Asia that
have a keen interest in and awareness of the necessity for fair
trade. I dearly wanted to find some businesses that actively
contribute to the well being of their workers.
In one of those lovely fortuitous moments I was
introduced to a French woman, by a Korean man, in
China. She told me to go to
Cambodia. The voice of my heart had
been whispering this suggestion for years. I had been afraid of
going to Cambodia
on my own to witness the devastation left from Khmer Rouge and Pol
Pot’s years of genocide without having someone to process it with.
But the heart will not be denied and the next day I was on a plane
headed for Phnom Penh without a travel buddy, a hotel
booked or a single contact. An unwise but otherwise brilliant
decision!
 In
Phnom Penh there are some amazing small
business that offer employees dignified livelihoods, skill
development and choices. I work primarily with now with two
suppliers. One women, Kong, lost
her leg to a landmine at the age of 12 and now trains people with a
range of disabilities, including other survivors of landmines to
work for her.
 Another
friend works for an NGO traveling all over Cambodia
working with women issues, HIV AIDS, gender awareness, abuse and so
on. She is a young mother and also a passionate designer and loves
to work with silk. She has transformed part of her household into a
showroom and works at night and on weekends to create her
masterpieces. She hires and trains women to tailor for her and is
supportive if they choose to set up their own businesses. She also
hires other women to care for her children and to cook for the
household, which includes several members of her extended family.
Increasingly we co-create original products. We
share our knowledge and skill bases to produce contemporary products
that are more profitable for both of our businesses. We meet in
their storefronts, factories, homes and in my hotel room. We go to
the silk fabric shops where we “play” with designs and colours, and
share the joys of our passion for silk.
My heart aches for the conditions in which too
many people in South Asia work and
live. I suffer no illusions about “making a difference.” There is no
clear objective in the work that I share with my Cambodian friends
apart from growing our businesses in a mutually supportive way. But
each trip presents a multitude of opportunities for making a
connection between our worlds and that is exciting. Please join me
on the Floating Stone Blog for more
silk stories and tales of the
adventures from our travels.
Floating Stone
guarantees all of our products against defects and flaws. We will
repair or replace any item that is damaged prior to purchase or due
to faulty workmanship up to and including 2 months after purchase
date with a receipt. We will not replace or repair any item that is
damaged due to wear and tear.
Returns for
other reasons will only be accepted within 14 days of purchase with
a receipt.
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