Made in Zaatari – Helen Storey reflects 7 years on

‘Made in Zaatari’ came about through a perfect and rare alignment of timing, politics, and the human spirit. In many ways, it was a natural outcome of working with a community of women whom Givaudan (one of the world’s largest creators of scent) had been training over several years. Over time we became a new kind of family, a form of enchanted belonging that invited us to co-create and dream together.

It was a wish of the ladies that there might one day be a place they could continue to meet safely, train others, cook for each other, share life’s gossip and camp wisdoms, and take care of each other’s children – the camp community mobiliser was due to be redeployed elsewhere and so with the energy of her devotion and imminent exit, she found the budget, rounded up unclaimed caravans and secured a piece of land we could build upon.

‘Made in Zaatari’ defied all the normal challenges of camp life – I realised I was there at the time of a small miracle being made, fuelled, it felt, by a new kind of kinship between us all.

The ‘Made in Zaatari’ centre brought both hope and challenge, to begin with, in equal measure. That it had been made possible, that it physically stood where before there was dust and no budget or vision, was remarkable. I remember how the power of its co designed constituent parts lifted the women; from the handmade tiled fountain in the middle ( a spiritual fire place at the centre of Syrian life) in a place of such water scarcity, to the perfume making lab, (a place of cleanliness, professionalism and economic potential), to the shop, the destination of all visitors to camp and a way to exhibit all they made and importantly, a creche and playground for the children, a kitchen to share food and recipes and a beauty salon - their sanctuary of peace, feminine freedom and closeness. The ’Made in Zaatari’ centre positioned women as skilled, talented, ready to self-organise, envision their own brand and sell good quality products.

But amidst all the positivity, it raised a new question - How does shifting gender dynamics impact families in the camp?

In a refugee camp setting, it was clear that many men felt that their identity had been challenged; to be able to earn a good living, to be able to protect and nurture their family, to hand on skills to their young, to be able to give thier children the best start in life – the conditions for life in camp can threaten it all.

30% of households in Zaatari are female headed but for many families traditional roles were evolving. While newfound economic independence brought opportunities for women, it also required families to navigate shifts in responsibilities and expectations. It meant that men found new and different ways to contribute, such as managing sales and distribution, ensuring that the benefits of the project were shared within households.

Refugee camps are hubs of extraordinary creativity and innovation, where people constantly find new ways to support themselves and each other despite the challenges they face. There is much we can learn from their adaptability and ingenuity.

Creativity and design however are a way to keep traditions and memories alive when the freedom to continue to make your own natural history has been blown apart. We knew when the women suggested creating ‘ the scent of Syria’ with the Givaudan team, that it had both practical and historic importance; practical, in the sense that camp life greatly challenges hygiene and the ability to keep your home and air clean, historic, in that for the generation born in camp, or for those too young to recall when and how they arrived, a scent of Syria is a precious way to keep what it means to feel Syrian, alive.

We always make plans, detailed, full of the processes it takes to move between Western university life and a place of perceived unpredictability and a certain level of the unknown – we would never not make plans, but on every occasion, arrival triumphantly undoes them.

The knowledge that is exchanged starts with laughter, in the face of our intentions, our organising, our preparedness; it’s true, we always have a place to start, but when your practise or project consistently meets ‘the systemic’ (poverty of unbearable depth, gender based violence, shifting laws, seemingly intractable war) knowledge exchange becomes about humility, responding to reality as it presents itself in the moment and how trust is made.

Refugee life teaches us what needs to be undone for anything worthwhile to be made – Knowledge exchange, is really a perpetual exchange of questions:

What do you do when the lifestyles we are trying to change, are they very lifestyles that are longed for? What should we surrender, over try to control? Where is the balance between ruiness empathy and compassionate design? What’s worth knowing now?

The same and new questions emerge with every new trip.

I’ve come to understand knowledge exchange as how we agree to live together, across distance, time, culture, faith and life circumstance, it is a reciprocal creative call and response against the unjust and the echo of the seemingly intractable.

I like Nick Cave’s way of putting it – “Hope (then) is optimism with a broken heart”.

It was a distinct challenge to bring back all that we were learning, to share how far this word ‘fashion’ could be stretched in unexpected ways for both our students and staff.

At first it felt as big a challenge as trying to bring the experience of another planet to those who may never travel there, but slowly and with the amazing creative courage and collaboration of LCF staff, we started to design projects which were in themselves unexpectedly experiential. With LCF’s BA (Hons) Fashion Jewellery course, we created a project whereby students created work using only what they had available around them and what they could find in their natural environment, an exercise highlighting that creativity is still possible when resources are limited

In the first instance, students were asked to design pieces with only the materials found naturally round them - at the time many were located in different parts of the world due to covid. There were pieces made out of ice from a hotel fridge, and worn candles that lit up already owned objects of personal faith – half way through their project, with the design process almost done, we asked them to hand over their work to a fellow student to finish it, to let go of what their creative minds had already invested in and attached to, in order to allow another to complete your project.

The response was fascinating, from a refusal to hear the request, to doing a quiet deal with the student who had inherited their work, (in order to still influence the outcome) to the embracing of the surprise and risk of it all.

Further co designed curriculum projects since, create relationships between makers from refugee camps and our students as permanent parts of course units.

If I look at this through the eyes of the women we worked with over years, success might take different forms, from the creation and building of the ‘Made in Zaatari’ Centre, the quality of the training and materials they received over many years, and the design development skills, to the new markets and partnerships which kept them moving forwards together.  Against an ever deepening and challenging environment for Jordan, where Zaatari remains, they have a blueprint and a path for making money out of what they produce.

Success for us here in the West, is what we have been taught through the making and living of previously unimaginable social bonds, to gifting us experiences which have brought fashion into stark relationship with the frontline of humanity’s struggles – bending fashion’s arc to show us what can lie beyond the broken.