Tourists, Jibaros, and Artisans.

Tourists, Jibaros, and Artisans

By Rachel Bradley

They rise before the sun, gather the day's belongings in a compact bag, and flee the coop. It may be a short car ride, or a daunting hike in the sunrise. At last, they arrive at their location. They wander the domain to scope it out from top to bottom, corner to corner. They spot an inviting space for themselves and their belongings. They stressfully uncover the treasures in the compact case. Everything is carefully placed and replaced until it fits like a puzzle where it belongs. What do I describe you ask? Yes, it could be a tourist that curiously roams unseen sights. Yes, it could be a Puerto Rican Jibaro that wearily looks for a home like a nomad. It is a Puerto Rican artisan that anxiously waits for the souvenir buyer.

Souvenirs are the most precious gifts of the tourist as the wet, fertile land is the most precious gift of the jibaro. To artisans working for a steady salary or the extra change, their handcrafted art is their precious worth (photo: bottom left).

As we linger the lively crowded streets of the Three Kings Festival or exit a cold dark cave, there is guarantee that an artisan will be anxiously waiting your arrival. When spotted, they attack their prey. The artisans offer cheap discounts on uniquely painted, dry fig shells and finely carved wood. Either or, the art is a layered gift of culture that can be taken off the island.

This was not a common spotting for only the festival. The artisans are posted in all stories of the Puerto Rican culture. At the Camuy Caves Park, there was an elderly man, Carlos Rafael, who sold hand-painted, vibrant Taino prints on canvas and hanging candles made of fig shells. To catch his prey he blew a deep breath into a large, creamy conch shell with a pig ping center (photo: bottom right). Of course, being a tourist, I purchased a hanging canvas with the Taino symbol for the Coqui. It was my class team’s name.

Later, we arrived at the Casa Bacardi. It was a large, modern building with an open bar at first glance. Behind the bar lay the artisans hard at work. I peered to see what they had to offer, and again, it was native jibaro vegetation made into art.

Sylvia Vasquez sat still in here chair as a dog told to stay. She attracted tourists through the beauty of her worth, rather than a catcall. In front of her, lying like a perfectly pieced puzzle were jewelry pieces made of bent silver wire accented by seeds, mahogany wood, and sea glass in an array of colors.

I asked her what lit the light bulb to make these pieces so precious to tourists. She said, “You want the honest, honest, honest truth? I was in jail and they took us out some days.” She had picked up paper clip pieces of wire that veteran women had left behind at their craft tables. “To pass the time I went to worship and picked up the pieces they left and began making bracelets,” said Sylvia (photo: top right). She was not able to buy the material yet, but finally she began to buy the material and go out for a day. “Bacardi invites women come and sell their jewelry outside. We earned 85 percent of profits and charged 15 percent by jail to cover water and machine costs,” said Sylvia.

Sylvia is much like the tourist and the jibaro. She packs her bags to travel to work and carefully uses the resources around her. At the end of the day, Sylvia has grown, as have her profits.