Our artisanal craft empowers us

The carnauba palm tree has always been a part of my life. But a capacity-building programme on artisanal weaving transformed my life, enabling me to make a decent living for myself and my children. Today, I belong to a group of committed women working hard to preserve traditions and innovate with this craft.

During my childhood, my father's main activity was the extraction of carnauba leaves for wax production. It was our family’s main source of income.

In our community, everyone participated. The men would collect the leaves, while the women weaved the pieces together into brooms.

When my father was still married to my mother, I was too young to help. Later, when my father remarried, my sister and I would help by leading home the donkeys that carried the saddlebags of leaves. My stepmother would then process the leaves.

I grew up in this environment, always surrounded by carnauba. I saw a few items made from it, like mats and baskets, but in my family, the tradition of making handicrafts had faded over time.

Even when I was too young to help, I remember accompanying my father to the carnauba groves. I would play on the harvested leaves with my sister while my father worked.

But my father's work was very labour-intensive. One of the biggest challenges was starting the work early in the morning to avoid the intense sun.

Every Friday, my father would wait on the highway for a truck to transport the brooms to the fair. He would have to travel overnight to sell them. And even then, the products sold at very low prices.

I have always known about carnauba crafts, particularly those from the state of Ceará, and I had wondered why we weren’t doing the same in our state, Piauí.

One day, my father sent me photos of handicrafts made from carnauba straw and told me that there was going to be a course on how to weave carnauba straw.

At the time, he was a union delegate and he had heard that there was an ILO project reviving this technique and offering a capacity-building programme. He asked me if I thought I could handle it. From the start, I was interested.

I immediately saw an opportunity. I wanted to answer my own questions and prove that we could build something valuable from our local resources.

Before working with carnauba crafts, I did other types of handicrafts. However, my primary income came from government social protection programmes and selling homemade foods.

But it was always a financial struggle, especially after I had my daughter and son. There were times when I had to choose between reinvesting in my business or buying essentials for my children. Sometimes, I earned enough; other times, I didn’t. The instability caused a lot of stress and anxiety.

From the beginning of the ILO project, we were told that it wasn’t just going to be about crafts. The project had bigger goals and aspirations for the future.

In the project, we learned a lot. Elisângela, the instructor, came to our community and spent a week with us. 

At first, it was my curiosity about the potential of carnauba crafts that motivated me. But as I learned more, I became eager to create something from start to finish. We learned how to make baskets using different types of braids. When I finally learned the techniques and saw the finished products made with my own hands, I felt victorious. 

During the training course, I saw many talented women quit, but I always believed in the project. I could see its potential beyond the initial struggles.

Some women dropped out of the course in the first week, saying they didn’t feel connected to it. Others wondered if this was really going to work or if we were investing time and money in something that wouldn’t succeed.

The uncertainty played with everyone's emotions at first. But the ones who stayed really identified with the craft and were very excited. By the end of the course, we had already begun to receive orders for our crafts.

Later, Elisângela, our instructor, became the coordinator of our group of artisans, and she is now the president of the association.

Today, we are a group of committed women working hard to preserve traditions and innovate within this craft.

We have a strong bond, especially among those of us who took the first course together. We support one another. Seeing that kind of encouragement within the group is very powerful. We have since trained more people, but our initial group has remained tightly connected.

When we started working, our biggest challenges were the lack of resources to buy necessary materials and the uncertainty about selling our products.

Now, what we need most is support in commercializing our products in a sustainable way. We need better access to markets beyond local fairs, as those come with high costs and uncertainties.

Supporting us goes beyond generating income; it empowers women, strengthens communities, and uplifts local traditions.

For me, this experience changed everything. When I started the craftwork, I had been diagnosed with severe anxiety and was taking medication. I barely left my house. But the craft took me out of that bubble. 

Eventually, my doctor saw that I no longer needed the medication. I started socializing, traveling, and attending trade fairs. I now feel more confident and determined.

People think I was always this way, but it took a lot of preparation and overcoming psychological barriers. 

Carnauba is much more than just a plant. To me, the carnauba tree symbolizes resilience, strength, and survival. I see myself reflected in its ability to endure and thrive despite hardships.

If I were to tell my future grandchildren about this experience, I would tell them about the victory—not just for me, but for my entire group and our community. 

I would tell them how carnauba crafts became a recognized and dignified profession. And how it allowed so many women to earn a decent living.