The doll house

What Handmade rag dolls for charity
Where Umm Al Quwain
Who Zahra Momeni Ajami, 85, and her husband Ali Ajami, 90.
Why Zahra donates these painstakingly-made dolls to orphans and underpriveleged children in Tehran who cannot afford toys.

"Why does he trouble me with such nitty-gritty?" grumbles Zahra Momeni Ajami, when her husband, Ali Ajami, shuffles to her side to ask her how much salt he should add to the soup. Nevertheless she suggests the quantity, before Ali shuffles away obediently to the kitchen. She watches him leave the room with a mock stern look, then turns to talk to me.

The Ajamis are like any elderly couple who have been together for many years. Except that in the Ajamis' case their devotion to each other is amazingly overwhelming. The love, respect and concern they share needs to seen to be believed.

He may be 90 and she 85, but they still ‘work'. Zahra is confined to a wheelchair due to severe arthritis. She also suffers from diabetes and high blood pressure. But that doesn't stop her from doing what she loves - making rag dolls for orphans and underprivileged children. What she isn't able to do, Ajami does: cook, keep house and take care of her every need.

Not that they need to. Their only son, Dawood, owns a successful furnishing business in Umm Al Quwain. They can afford to sit back and relax in their old age. But not the Ajamis. "I brought them over here [from Tehran] about nine years ago," says Dawood. "Since then it's been a real effort to get them to relax."

What they did was take charge of the housework. Three years ago Zahra was confined to a wheelchair after arthritis struck. Combined with diabetes and high blood pressure it almost killed the spirit of the lady. She was desperate to return to her usual hard-working self, but just could not move around freely.

How it all began

Her granddaughter, Yalda, who is very fond of her grandmother, could not bear to see the woman in that condition. "I wondered what she could do confined to the wheelchair. She was a person who loved to remain busy. Then suddenly one day I remembered she used to make cute dolls for me when I was a child," says Yalda, a relationship manager with a Dubai-based bank. "I remember her telling me that she used to make them as a child to amuse herself as she did not have access to other dolls at the time. Soon the dolls she made became so popular that every girl in her neighbourhood wanted one."

When she grew up and got married, she had little time to pursue her hobby. "She had only my father, so there was no opportunity to make any dolls again.'' After Yalda was born she did pick up fabric and paint once again to make dolls for her granddaughter "but I was not always around her while I was growing up,'' says Yalda.

Once she was confined to the wheelchair, she began to feel extremely bored. She could not move around freely and that began to upset her. "So I thought why not get her to make those dolls again…" says Yalda.

It worked like a charm. "Yes, (once I was confined to the wheelchair) I started feeling bored and depressed so on Yalda's suggestion I started making them again," says Zahra, her eyes still sparkling with the curiosity of a child. "And I've not stopped.'' Except once a few years back when she fell ill and was hospitalised for a while. "I was afraid I would not be able to make the dolls again… what if I had forgotten? But when I got back home and picked up my needle it all came back again! I felt like I had been given a new life!"

There is another reason why Zahra makes these dolls. She loves children.

Dawood recalls the day around three years back, when his mother asked him what he did with all the unwanted fabric in his store. "She told me ‘Baba, you have a lot of cloth at your workshop which you throw away. Why don't you bring them here so I can make some dolls for kids who can't buy proper dolls?" says Dawood.

Zahra makes the dolls by hand, very patiently… sometimes spending close to ten hours or more with her needle, thread and scissors to fashion a colourful rag doll. Seeing her passion for making the pretty dolls, Dawood had an idea. "I told her ‘if you make more such dolls we will donate them to charitable organisations and orphanages'," says Dawood. "That was enough to set her off! To date she has made a few thousand dolls… we have lost count."

Ali too helps his wife in making the dolls. He cuts the basic outline of the doll on a piece of fabric using a cardboard cut-out in the shape of a doll. He then draws the eyes, nose and lips on the fabric. Zahra then takes over and stitches and stuffs the doll. "It is very simple and traditional," explains Dawood, pride evident in his voice. "You can't get dolls like this anywhere else. Professional dolls you can get by the dozens, but this is unique, handmade with love. It carries a value on its own."

It's only about love

Love is evident in the Ajami household. The entire family swears by it. "I had a lovely time as a child," says Dawood, smiling broadly reminiscing about his childhood. "My parents gave me a lot of love. As for my father he loves my mother. That's why there was an atmosphere of love and peace in our house, and I grew up to imbibe that. That's why I am a happy person. Real happiness. We were not a rich family, even today we have our difficulties now and then, but we are always happy," he says.

"[Zahra] likes to believe that the whole world is her family," explains Yalda. "Grandma has 11 brothers and sisters, but she herself had only one child. So, she always felt the void and would willingly include everybody she got to know as her family."

"I love doing this because I love kids, and I have only one," chips in Zahra, looking fondly at Dawood. "I would have loved to have more children, so I make them for all the kids I could not have… I feel they are all mine."

"She makes these dolls for children who can't afford toys," says Dawood. "This is very important for her. The work itself might not be very important, but the philosophy behind it is."

Dawood remembers her telling him she wanted to do something for children. "She asked me how can I do that?" he relates. "I said you can make these lovely dolls and Yalda will arrange to distribute them to charitable organisations, schools and homes for destitute children. Once we told her that, she just started making them by the dozen… whenever I returned from work, she would call out, ‘Dawood, come and see what I have done today!' The room was usually full of the dolls she's made.

"I always feel overwhelmed when I see her eagerness, and how industrious she is at her age."

Even as he speaks Ali brings in boxes filled with dolls. They are in different colours and sizes. No two are alike. Because none of the hand-made dolls look exactly alike, they each take on a different personality.

Zahra says they are not just pretty faces to be set on a desk to collect dust. They are meant to be used by children. Replacements are readily available for the asking. "It is just our way of sending a little piece of home to them and let them know we are behind them," she explains.

"When Yalda comes home and tells her, ‘I gave your doll to this child and she was very happy', her eyes light up," says Dawood. "Now, she's been on the wheelchair for the past three years, so this is all the more precious for her - being able to brighten up someone else's life."

Of late, Zahra has developed arthritis in her hands too, but she ignores it. She just wants to be useful.

"I think [such dolls] help them express their feelings, because such children usually don't have any outlets to do so… it becomes a part of them, their sounding board," says Zahra.

She has her own take on why the children like them so much. "The dolls may even help the children feel a sense of belonging… they can confide in them, yell at them or even beat them up. The good thing about dolls is that they never argue, are very forgiving and they never reveal secrets."

Every time she makes about a hundred of them Yalda sends them off to Iran through her husband who travels there frequently. "When I visit Iran I go to these orphanages with my son where the dolls are given to children so I can see for myself how much they are appreciated," says Yalda. "There is an orphanage in Tehran that takes care of physically challenged children. The orphanage hardly has any money or resources to cope. It's heartbreaking to see what a difference such a small thing can make to those children's lives."

The Ajamis don't attach any commercial value to Zahra's craft. "These dolls are not for sale," says Zahra. "They are free and only for underprivileged children who can't afford any."

"I don't want her to give up (on life). That's why I encourage her to keep on with her doll-making even though she has problems as it gives her a purpose in life," says Yalda.

Zahra certainly has no intentions of giving up. For her, this is a labour of love and an on-going project.