Despite vision problems: 65-year-old craftswoman from Spain dreams of recognition for her knitting talents

María Nieves Abreu Ramos learned to knit as a child, at the age of 8. Doña María, a seamstress from the town of Tacoronte, taught her. She sewed dresses for María, which the girl wore with her mother to the La Paz Hospital in Madrid due to vision problems.

María remembers well the first time she picked up knitting needles. She says she sat quietly, like a mouse, and begged her mother for a long time to let her try. Doña María, seeing her persistence, gave her needles and yarn and said, "Watch how I do it, and you'll be able to do it too."

María's mother saw that her daughter had a talent for knitting, but she didn't buy her yarn. She was raising seven other children on her own. In those days, children with disabilities were treated as "mentally retarded," and no one helped them because there was neither money nor knowledge of how to do it. María's mother could barely read or write, "could hardly add two and two," so María doesn't resent her, but simply tells it as it was.

But María still found a way. When she finished knitting a small item, she would run to Doña María to show it off. The seamstress "supported" her by giving her a ball of yarn. María was born with a disease that affected her entire body. It is a degenerative COPD, "something that even doctors don't always know what it is." Simply put, she has elephantiasis, problems with the lymph in her leg, narcolepsy, difficulty breathing, and very poor eyesight. She cannot see at all with her right eye, and only 10% with her left due to paralysis caused by a tumor.

She has had 34 eye surgeries. Once in November, when she was being prepared for cataract surgery, the procedure was stopped due to the high risk. After that, she said, "Never again."

María understands that her disability is physical, not mental. She crochets real miracles, even though it is even harder for her because she is left-handed. Bedspreads, scarves, hair ties, pot holders – she keeps all of this at home, under the sofa in her room and in bags. She cannot sell it because she does not have a craftsman's license, which is required to participate in fairs.

But this did not prevent her from living a normal life. She married early, at 16, moved to San Juan de la Rambla, had children, has grandchildren, does housework "as best she can," and never gave up knitting, always wanting to learn something new. Doña María taught her how to make chains and the first triple crochet stitch. And then she learned on her own, "taking it apart and doing it, taking it apart and doing it," until she learned.

She is now 65 and dreams of obtaining a craftsman's license to sell her products at fairs and buy more yarn. She recently learned what was required to do so and signed up for the exam twice. The first time she couldn't come because she was sick. She was promised that they would come to her house, "but I'm still waiting," she says ironically.

The second exam was on June 10 in La Orotava. She had to bring needles and yarn, but she brought a ball of wool because the yarn is brought to her from Portugal, it is expensive, and she had to leave a sample. "They told me not to worry that I brought a different material, to do everything I could, and that's it," she says.

She had to leave early because she was scheduled for rehabilitation. But since she completed two full tests out of three, she was allowed to leave.

María was surprised that the women who evaluated her looked at her "very, very" closely and even asked "how she knits without looking." During the conversation, María knits, looking straight ahead, and counts the stitches with her hands, which have become her eyes. She does it almost imperceptibly and explains her "technique" only to those who are interested.

She was very surprised when she received a letter refusing to issue her a license without explaining the reasons. She was offered to file a complaint, but she never received an answer.

María believes that the license "should be given to all artisans because no one does the same as others, everyone has their own style." She also thinks that people like her need help and special conditions for taking the exam.

"There is no more room in my house, and I want to continue knitting," she confesses. For her, it is not only a hobby, but also therapy. She dedicates almost nine hours a day to knitting. "I am not hired because I cannot see, but I want people to see that a person with a disability like me can also do beautiful things and help so that this art does not disappear," she emphasizes.