Carpet-Weavers Morocco †Journal Assignment Essay

I’m sure that all of you have at least heard of, if not seen the famous carpets of Morocco. You must have also heard things like, â€Å"What fine craftsmanship!†, â€Å"What fabulous designs and prints!†, â€Å"What a work of art!† or â€Å"What fine skill!†, from people who purchase these carpets for huge sums of money for the various purposes such as praying, decoration etc. But have you ever taken a moment to think, of the origin of these carpets, of the person who sits up day and night weaving these carpets which are sold for thousands, but what does he get out of this and so on, well if not, then I’m sure that after reading this, all these questions will be answered. In case you didn’t know, Morocco is a relatively poor country and most of the carpets woven there, are all hand-made and are woven by children, children like me who are forced to weave due to unfortunate circumstances. Like me there are hundreds of others who have to live the same unfortunate lives for the same reasons. Let me give you a brief outline of what it is like to be a carpet weaver. Firstly, you have to wake up at five in the morning and get dressed. Everybody is allowed is five minutes in the showers, which is just about enough because the water is ice cold and it takes you just that long to g et used to the temperature of the water. After that, we have a so-called ‘breakfast’, if that’s what you would call it, which is absolutely tasteless and seems stale. After that, we immediately get to work and start weaving. Thread by thread and knot by knot, we have to be really careful and focused, and should there be any mistake, we can hope not to see the sun for a couple of days, at minimum that is! We have to work constantly until ten at night, when we quickly eat dinner, which is just as bad as breakfast, if not worse and then go to sleep, hoping that tomorrow will be a better day and we will be freed from this life of misery, but then, every morning, it starts all over again, the same torture, the same shouting voices of the slave drivers and the same miserable life. You might wonder, what may lead one to have to live such a life at such a small age, the answer lies deep within our backgrounds and circumstances. I’ve been weaving ever since I was seven years old, till today, when I’m thirteen. Before this, I used to live with my family, we weren’t so rich but we were surviving. There were six of us, me, my two brothers, my sister and my parents. All of us used to go to a small school in the nearby village. My mother was a vegetable seller and my father was a drunkard who had a small job at a toothpaste factory. Then one day, due to excessive intake of alcohol, he passed away. His death really didn’t make much of a difference, as he was no good anyway, but still, we were slightly affected financially. Then one day, a rich merchant came to our village, and started offering all the children jobs and promised that he would pay us huge sums of money, if we worked at his factory. Without thinking twice, I took the job and I was taken away to a far away place to work at his factories. Had I known what lay ahead, I would have never gone with him, but at the time, we needed money and I felt that this was the best opportunity. We were immediately taken away to a deserted and remote area where there was no way of contacting anyone. We were told to do as he said, and our families would be kept happy. I never the money that had been promised, instead, all I got was a gloomy place to work, eat and sleep, the merchant kept on telling me that he was sending my family the promised money, but after knowing the reality of this place, I doubt my family ever saw a fraction of what was promised, and I also doubt that they are alive right now. As you clearly saw, I was tricked into working here and once I was in, there was no way out; I had no choice but to work at the factory, because the merchant said that there was no place to go from here and if anyone tried, they would be killed. The first of my days here were very hard, when I first started learning how to weave, I made many mistakes, but quickly learnt and became perfect. Everyday here is like hell, maybe worse. How I long to outside and play like a normal child. I want to go to school and learn and become someone and do good for humanity, but instead, my life is wasted here, weaving carpets forever. I feel pity for the younger children who have just arrived. They all seem really scared as they are very young and have no idea of what’s going on and what their lives are about to become. We have to toil hard and work till late at night and finish at least three carpets in five days, or else we don’t get dinner. You have to really focus all your attention into the weaving and sometimes we get so lost into the weaving, that we lose track of time; it’s as if, we’re in another world, much different from this one and that helps to focus more and eases the pain a bit. When weaving, you have to be very careful, for just the slightest mistake could ruin the entire carpet. I feel I have become like a pale shadow of my former self, before, I was carefree and happy with my family, but now, I feel scared and I am uncertain about my future; I don’t know what will happen to me after the merchant finds no use of me, or will I spend my entire life here just sitting and weaving? There are hundreds of unanswered questions and queries in my mind and I’m sure that most of us feel the same way as me – scared and uncertain. Everyday is a struggle and every minute is torture. We aren’t allowed to talk or stop working and if we do, the slave drivers shout at us and sometimes even whip us and there’s nothing we can do, for we have no choice as nobody knows of the merchant’s tyranny and more importantly, nobody cares. At night, when I lie down on the hard and cold floor and try to sleep, I pray and hope that tomorrow will be something else, something better, but it never happens, everyday is the same, hell. I sometimes wonder, the cruel merchant exploits lots of children every week and brings them here and makes them weave carpets. He then sells them for thousands, while all we get are a few scraps in the name of food. He commits such horrible sins and yet enjoys his riches and lives lavishly, while we have toil and struggle; I ask myself, â€Å"What have we done to have to suffer such a life of suffering and misery? Why won’t God answer our prayers? Where is he? Why does the merchant enjoy his life to the fullest extent? Is this the justice of God? Has evil truly oppressed good? Why?, Why?†¦Ã¢â‚¬ . But, I soon realize that there is no point in asking these meaningless questions, because the merchant will still get richer, while we suffer. I feel that the government should do something about this and so should the people who buy these carpets for thousands, they should think of us and how we are suffering. The merchant is exploiting us and using us as an unpaid workforce; he is abusing our rights and we are suffering. He has to be stopped from his exploitation at any cost because this way millions of children are separated from their families and are sent to far away lands to live a life worse than hell. The so-called â€Å"Human Rights Organization†, should do something to free us from this prison. But then again, I doubt that anything will happen. Some people might set out to do some investigations, but they will probably give up or be bribed by the extremely rich merchant, a case will be filed and will keep on circling the government departments and will soon be forgotten underneath a huge pile of papers, while we will continue to live in this hell†¦