Toshiko Mizumoto, Part 1

In Palestine, working within a restricted world

Toshiko Mizumoto (left) examines the colors for pouches and aprons at the sewing cooperative in the village of Idona.

Toshiko Mizumoto

Born in Hiroshima in 1958. After graduating from a dressmaking school, she worked at a clothing company for three years. She then started a company which produced nightwear. Since she was 25 years old, she has engaged in volunteer work, such as visiting a care center for those with Hansen's disease. In 1995, she went to Palestine. In the beginning, she belonged to an NGO and took part in a project to generate income for women. Since 2002, she has worked alone apart from the NGO. She lives in East Jerusalem.

I'm working in Palestine to support women in earning income. People in Palestine suffer from suppression and political, economic, and cultural difficulties. In such conditions, how can women find sources of income? I'm trying to provide them with cooperation and help.

Fifteen years ago, when I first met these women in Palestine, I found that they didn't receive an adequate education. Using my dressmaking skills, I founded a sewing cooperative.

The cooperative was set up in a small village called Idona, which is located in the southern part of the West Bank along the River Jordan. After it was established, I went to the village every day, for a few years, and taught them how to cut and sew and stock materials and how to do accounting. The women had few possessions and seldom left the village. So, at the beginning, I was responsible for stocking the materials.

The women of the cooperative have been making bags and coin purses in a modern style. Many Palestinian women learn how to do traditional cross-stitching from their families when they were children. Making use of this skill, the cooperative has recently begun producing other things, too, such as shawls and accessory cases. They sell these goods to tourists visiting Jerusalem.

It takes an hour and a half by car from my house in East Jerusalem to the village of Idona. The cooperative now has 50 members who are mainly in charge of embroidery and six women who are involved in sewing. Four staff members are responsible for the designing, sewing, accounting, and computers.

I speak with the four staff members every day about sewing, making samples, and stocking materials. The other women come to the center once a week, but work primarily from home.

In Palestine, which suffers from the high unemployment rate of 60%, someone in the family must work so they can survive. The husbands work mostly at construction sites in Israel. However, without permission to enter Israel, they are unable to find a job.

Due to the differences of experience and culture, it took a long time to form the cooperative. Women who live in conservative Muslim communities in local villages rarely communicate with foreigners, so it was hard for them to imagine that they could be involved in running such a cooperative and earning income from it. I'm sure it was also difficult for them to imagine working with the Japanese woman who visited their village for the first time.

At this point, though, they can put money from their earnings into their children's education and into the upkeep of their houses. Helping provide meals for their families each day seems to produce joy and self-confidence. Since the Palestinian women are unable to travel freely like Israelis, it takes them two hours to reach the destination for materials, a trip that would take only half an hour for Israelis. But they aren't discouraged by these hardships and they undertake the journey to get the materials and carry them back to their village. These days, I'm engaged in suggesting designs, checking the quality of the goods, and expanding their market.

Whenever I bring visitors to the cooperative, they generally react with such words as "The women are really happy doing this work, aren't they?" The fact that these Palestinian women are so full of life, despite their hardships, makes it so gratifying for me to do this work. Through our laughter and our tears, we come to know and accept our cultural differences.