Chapter 25 - The First Class of Apprentices
By autumn, the transformation of the warehouse was fully complete. The Morales-Vance Artisan Academy opened its heavy oak doors to its very first class of twenty-two young apprentices from rural communities across Oaxaca, Michoacán, and the State of Mexico.
The cavernous workshop halls were filled with the rhythmic, hypnotic thump-clack of wooden looms, the rich earthy scent of raw wool and natural plant dyes, and the eager, inquisitive voices of students learning the ancient secrets of their craft from master artisans like Doña Carmen and my mother.
I walked down the central aisle of the main loom hall, wearing a simple linen apron over my clothes, stopping occasionally to inspect a student’s tension or offer a encouraging word on pattern symmetry.
Across the room, Mateo stood near the high arched windows, helping a young apprentice adjust the counterweight on a heavy vertical loom with the quiet patience of a seasoned mentor.
As I approached them, Mateo straightened up, wiping a speck of lint from his sleeve, offering me a warm, affectionate smile.
"How are the structural integrity reports from the loom stations?" I teased quietly.
"Flawless," Mateo reported with mock military precision. "Every thread is tensioned to specification, and the student morale is at a hundred percent. No hostile takeovers detected in the sector."
"Good," I laughed, slipping my hand into his. "Because the afternoon class is about to start, and Doña Carmen expects us both to demonstrate how to prepare the indigo vat."
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"Indigo vat duty," Mateo sighed dramatically, though his dark eyes were dancing with amusement. "An international security commander reduced to dyeing his hands blue. My former colleagues in Geneva would never let me live it down."
"Well, good thing your former colleagues are currently locked away in maximum security cells where they can't critique your laundry skills," I smiled, pulling him gently toward the dye workshop.
