Written by Nina, Community Relations
I had just arrived at the Sew Can We booth at Boutiques Singapore and greeted the mothers managing the sales – some familiar faces, others I was meeting for the first time. As we settled into conversation, one of the mothers I had only just met asked, “You brought food?” She mentioned she had sandwiches in her bag if I hadn’t eaten.
It was a quiet act of care that set the tone for the rest of the afternoon.
Around us, the fair was in full swing – families drifting between stalls, children tugging at parents, shoppers stopping to admire handmade crafts. In a hall buzzing with design and colour, it would have been easy for small makers to blend into the background. But moments of connection kept pulling them forward.
A customer dropped by to say she still uses the bag she bought last year: “It’s my gym bag! So sturdy I’ve never had to replace it.” The mother who made it lit up. “Can carry five kilos,” she whispered later, tapping the strap proudly. “Even rice also can,” she joked.
Every cent of the proceeds at Boutiques goes back to the mothers, but what stood out wasn’t the sales. It was how they lifted one another. One mother, whose products weren’t in rotation this round, still came down all four days to help. When customers approached, the women didn’t only speak about what they made, but what someone else made.
It was never “mine.”
It was always “ours.”
Volunteers added to this sense of shared ownership. Tanya, who first met Beyond in Grade 7, told me how difficult it was to leave for university overseas. “So when I came back, I knew I had to volunteer with Beyond again.”
What keeps her returning, she said, is the continuity, the way she can grow alongside the communities she meets. Years ago, she built friendships with children at our learning programmes. Today, she finds herself forming new ones with the mothers of Sew Can We and with residents who have relocated to neighbourhoods where Beyond now walks.
“It’s one of the few places where you get to keep showing up for the same people,” she shared. “And that’s what makes the relationships meaningful.”
By closing time, the hall was a whirl of cardboard boxes and half-dismantled displays. As we packed up, a neighbouring vendor appeared with bright pink boxes of socks inspired by local shophouses. Over the past few days, the mothers had been sharing breakfast – sandwiches, fried noodles, whatever they cooked that morning.
“This is for all of you,” the vendor said, placing the boxes gently on the table. “How many were here throughout the week? We want to make sure everyone gets one.”
It was a simple gesture, but it carried a story inside it – kindness passing from hand to hand, from one stall to the next, across four long days of work.
Moments like this remind me that community doesn’t only form in our neighbourhoods – it forms wherever people choose to look out for one another. In the middle of a busy fair hall, the mothers carved out a small corner of warmth. A place where generosity moved freely, and pride in one another’s work was shared without hesitation.
And perhaps that is what kept drawing people back. Not just to the crafts, but to the feeling around the table.
A kind of handmade hospitality.
A kind of fair exchange that isn’t listed on any price tag.
If you’d like to support the mothers behind Sew Can We – through purchasing their crafts, volunteering, or collaborating – we’d be happy to share more. Reach us at editorial@beyond.org.sg.