May 25–June 1, 2000

loose canon

Fair Trader

by Bruce Schimmel

Ira Dassa knows that Free Trade is rarely, if ever, Fair Trade.

Ira is an importer whose goods are not made by children under slave-like conditions. He knows for sure that his artisans from the little Cambodian village called Prek Chrook are being paid fairly to practice traditional crafts — to weave fine reeds into bright and sturdy handbags, floormats and portfolios. He’s also sure that they are treated fairly.

Because Prek Chrook is Ira’s village, and the 175 families there are his family. He’s adopted them, and he says they’ve adopted him.

Ira’s first family, his sister and his mother in the Bronx, where he was born 36 years ago, haven’t been told — in so many words — of his new family. They might not understand, he says.

Why did a nice Jewish boy who went to good schools, got fancy degrees, who was on a fast track in a D.C. law firm, end up adopting a Cambodian village?

Because six years ago, at the age of 30, as Ira puts it, he "hit a wall."

An old friend had come to D.C. to visit for a weekend. Over dinner, Ira tried to explain why he was doing what he was doing — and couldn’t. The following Monday, he submitted his resignation.

He went east, first to Vietnam and then, on a whim, to Phnom Penh — which led him up the Mekong River to Prek Chrook. There, he fell in love — not with anyone in particular, but with a community.

He couldn’t make a living in the little village, so from ’94 to ’97 Ira lived two hours away in Phnom Penh, where he worked as an adviser for the United Nations, for the Cambodian General Assembly, and for a couple of human rights organizations.

Stymied by Cambodia’s staggering political corruption, Ira hit another wall. When the country convulsed under a brutal coup d’état in ’97, he resigned his posts and decided he could do the most good for the people he loved by doing things himself.

So Ira became a Fair Trader, to create decent jobs and allow people to stay in a place that they loved.

"Fair Trading is the best way to show my affection for them," he says.

What would Ira buy them if he could?

"First, a tractor," he answers immediately. "Then water pumps, solar panels. Radios, lots of them. Maybe a couple of TVs. Books. An endless supply of condoms. And a teacher."

Ira admits he’s received several offers of marriage from villagers, but the 36-year-old says that his work leaves no time for romance, here or there.

But now he knows why he does what he does; and fortunately, so far, the walls keep tumbling down.

Ira’s trading company is called Wild Boar Creek (www.wildboarcreek.com). He’s got outlets in D.C. and NYC, and is looking for a retail location in Philadelphia.