A gift of Kazuri beads

This weekend, I had a wonderful visit with my dad, on his way home from an almost annual pilgrimage to Africa. He brought me some beautiful Kazuri beads, handmade in Kenya. He told me what he knew about the company – how a woman founded it in order to help other women out of prostitution, teach them a valuable skill and provide them with income – and the different kinds of products he saw when he was in the Nairobi store. Intrigued, I pressed him for more detail but he wasn’t sure how to answer. And then the solution dawned on us: they must have a website!

Just moments ago, those delightful handmade beads were an enchanting mystery. I had vague images in my head about where the women worked and the variety of treasures they created. But with one click, I find myself browsing a beautiful website, with complete biographical and product information. I can even (gulp) order the necklaces online and have them delivered to my door, direct from their UK store.

I like that fact that I’m old enough to remember what the world was like before the internet. Now we are able to find out anything about any subject. No one with speedy online access has any excuse not to know everything there is to know about a given subject. But the sheer magnitude of this availability is often overwhelming, leaving us to passively rely on old media for our information. Whatever the case, the mystery of a gift picked out from afar is often revealed in some way not possible before the online frenzy began.

Of course, like many others this website is simply a marketing tool, and presents an ideal image to visitors. It’s nothing like actually going to Nairobi and seeing the operation in progress. No matter what I can see or learn online, it is much more meaningful to know that when I look at my beads, I’ll always remember that my dad traveled all the way to Kenya to pick them out for me. That reality is so much better than a lonely online shopping experience could ever be.