I cannot sew. I made a half-hearted attempt when I was younger, but I never learned how to make my own close. I guess that is why I found myself so fascinated when I watched the tailor stitch the two halves of my dress together. Her nimble fingers pushed the fabric through the machine with ease. The machine made little sound as her bare foot pressed up and down on the pedal to operate the machine. Every few stitches she turned the fabric to stitch a new section. I admired the skill and detail that she paid to every motion. I watched her stitch the fabric until she completed it. The dress could not have looked more beautiful.
When my group first went to Masaka three weeks ago I found a blue, red, and white geometric flower fabric that I fell in love with. I planned to get a dress made for Big Block (the awards banquet for varsity athletes that UBC holds every year), and I wanted that fabric for it. Agnes also talked with me earlier about me having a traditional Ugandan dress made so that I could match hers. I found an elegant pink, brown, green, and ivory patterned silk like fabric for the dress.
The following Tuesday Agnes took Eliza and I (Eliza bought pink patterned fabric) to the tailor to have my dresses, and Eliza’s skirt made. Agnes also needed close to be mended. The tailors shop was different from the one that Peace had taken Courtney and I too, but I like these ones better. They asked me to look at the wall for a pattern I wanted for my Big Block dress, but I didn’t see one that suited the occasion. They then took an old book off one of the cluttered shelves in the back of the small one room shop. As I flipped through the pages a simple, but elegant patern jumped out at me. It might as well have had neon lights on the page. Eliza, Agnes, and I all agreed that the pattern would work well with my fabric. Eliza told the women she wanted a simple skirt that flowed a bit, and had an elastic waits band. The women took our measurements, and we were on our way. On our way home we saw the blood from the man. When I called my mom to process what I experienced I also told her about the traditional dress I was having made. “I wanted to get the fabric and just have the tailors make a sleevless dress, but I figured it was more important to get the full one and to make Agnes happy. She has been talking about it since I came home with the other skit I had made, and I figured it will make her smile, and if I really want I can have the sleeves taken off when I get home.” My mother said that was very thoughtful of me and I should write it down in my journal, so I am.
We returned the next (last) Tuesday to collect our things. When we arrived the women were still working on my Big Block dress. The fabric was sheer so they had sewn a blue liner into the dress that made it look so smart. As we waited we saw Claire, Sandra, and Jenna pass by on the other side of the road on a walk to the quarry. We waved to them, and an old man waved back at Eliza and I. When he realized his mistake, he turned around and waved at the other girls as well. I’m going to do that too the next time I wave at someone waving to someone else.
Agnes also arrived at the tailors. We told her that we would pick up her things, but she wanted to stop by on her way home to see how our things looked. I put the traditional dress on over my work shirt and pants. It fit perfectly and looked very smart. Well, for Uganda. The dress goes down to the floor, and slightly hugs your curves. The neckline is square with two buttons on the left side just above the breast. The sleeves are loose and stop just above the elbows. The most unique aspect the dress, though, is the shoulders. If I were to have worn this dress in the 1980s all my friends would have turned green with envy. They shoulders are pointed straight up, and rise up about five inches or so off the top of the shoulder line. The first time I saw a women in this dress I could not believe my eyes, but I have gotten used to them now.
When Agnes saw me in the dress she squealed with delight, and gave me a bear hug. “A mzungu wearing one of our dresses.” She laughed along with the other women as she repeated the phrase in Lugandan. By the time I got it off the seamstress finished with my other dress. For that one I went behind a curtain slipped off my over shirt, and put the dress on over my pants. It fit a bit wide, and Agnes noticed that it bubbled a bit at the bottom when it should have lain flat. Some time later, we saw the girls walk back from their walk, the seamstress finished my dress, and this time it fit perfectly. It looked like it had just arrived in a time machine from the 1960s, and I love it to bits.
Because my dress comes to just above my knees, and not lower I had fabric left over. Also because I am so small a substantial amount of the large swatch of “shiny” fabric left over as well. So instead to taking it home I decided to have a skirt made like Eliza’s, and a top that’s fashion I left up to Agnes and the tailor’s digression.
Eliza and I went to pick them up yesterday. To my surprise, the skirt did not resemble Eliza’s. Instead it had a zipper and clasp at the top. It hugged my hips, and bum before it flared out slightly, and stopped just bellow my knees. It looks smart and professional, and I can wear it to nicer events as well as dress it down for school. It was a pleasant surprise. I wore it to work today, and Sandra said, “That’s the kind of skirt I want. It fits nicely, but still flairs out…Oh and it fits your butt so well! How did they do that? It’s like it’s custom fit or something.” Jenna, Clair, and I all started to laugh. “As a matter of fact Sandra,” I said, “it is custom fit!” She started to laugh as well.
The shirt did not fit as well. I couldn’t even put it on all the way. The seamstresses made the cuffs for the sleeves too tight, and they would not go over my elbows. They re-measured me, and I will go back Thursday to pick it up. It looked beautiful though.
When Agnes got home later that evening she saw me wearing my new skirt. “It looks so smart!” she said. “Do you like the pattern?” she asked. “Yes. It wasn’t what I was expecting, but I really like it. It fits very well.” “That’s because I stopped by the tailor and told them to change the style,” she laughed. “You asked them to change it?” Eliza asked. Agnes nodded her head. We could not help, but join in in the laughter. Agnes may not be perfect, and she may have a bit more of a say in my fashion that I expected, but she looks out for me, and I am glad to have her on my side to help. I have now deemed Agnes my fashion guru for the rest of the trip.
