Stitching Belonging: Leila’s Community Vision in Rural France

In the Heart of Aspet: A Story of Listening, Belonging, and Leila
By Junias Kanyinda

 

In October 2024, as part of my work coordinating international projects for the Finnish Federation of Settlement Houses and the International Federation of Settlements (IFS), I hosted a group of French colleagues for an Erasmus+ mobility exchange. The theme? Exploring new ways to foster social inclusion across communities.

The week was full, with long hours, deep conversations, and cultural bridges built in quiet moments. My feet were tired, but my heart was full. It was during that whirlwind that I met Leila.

From Architecture to the Human Fabric

Leila’s story is not one of big headlines. It’s a story built slowly, one that listens more than it speaks. A story that started when she landed, almost by chance, in Aspet—a small village tucked into the French Pyrenees, calm and quietly diverse.

She wasn’t a social worker or community organiser. She had trained as an architect. But when the village’s mayor invited her to help build an association to strengthen the “lien social,” the social bond, she said yes.

What followed wasn’t strategy. It was intuition, listening, and observation. Drawing on lessons from her architectural training, Leila approached the village like a living structure. She asked, who lives here? What do they need? What do they bring? Her “diagnosis” wasn’t of buildings, but of people and possibility.

Aspet was home to French locals, British residents, and immigrants from Afghanistan, Tibet, Morocco, Spain, and beyond. She didn’t come in with answers. She began with questions.

Building Something Real

One woman wanted to lead cooking workshops but had trouble engaging local women. So, Leila shifted the frame. Instead of offering something to teach, they created something to exchange: La Cuisine du Monde. Kitchens became spaces of shared discovery, where stories and spices from Burma, Reunion Island, Italy, and Afghanistan filled the air.

British residents wanted to connect too. So Early Doors was born, a weekly gathering that began in English and ended in French, gently encouraging language exchange through laughter and tea.

What makes Les Ateliers du Temps Libre d’Aspet special is that every activity begins with a person, not a program. Every offering is rooted in someone’s voice, interest, or need. And every encounter has the potential to bloom into something more.

A sewing group became a sanctuary. A child’s art class sparked a public art project. A shared meal became the seed of solidarity.

The space itself is alive, with permanent workshops in sewing, painting, and language, but always ready to shift with the seasons, the people, and the mood of the moment.

A Place Where Everyone Belongs

Leila’s dream is simple but radical: to create a space where everyone can thrive (s’épanouir), to grow, to feel safe, and to feel seen. Whether you’re a doctor or an asylum seeker, a retiree or a single parent, you are welcome. You are wanted.

Her next goal is to create more spaces for young people, not just to keep them busy but to help them discover themselves. To give them room to imagine, express, and belong.

A Day in Aspet: Stories Between Stitches

I arrived in Aspet with my cousin Matthieu after a quiet drive through the hills from Toulouse. Leila welcomed us with warmth and immediately took us to the two guest houses she and her husband Jonathan had renovated themselves. The homes were beautiful—sunlit, rustic, personal but what stayed with me wasn’t the architecture.

It was the vision. Leila hopes to one day host international visitors who come not just to stay, but to connect and co-create.

At Les Ateliers, I met women from all over: Petra (Germany), Kristina (Spain), Thoui (Cambodia), Elisabeth and Collette (France). Some threaded needles. Others fixed sewing machines. One woman playfully told me she was sewing napkins she didn’t plan to share with her husband.

There was joy and care in every corner, like when one group tailored trousers to fit someone with a unique body shape, or when Petra calmly helped troubleshoot a stubborn machine. It was more than sewing. It was support. It was presence.

In a back room, I discovered Leila’s paintings—soft and bold, intuitive and human. Among her canvases were children’s drawings, reminders that this space truly belongs to everyone.

 

Food, Friendship, and Mojitos

We ended the afternoon at Leila’s home, shared with Jonathan, their four gentle dogs, and two cats. The mountain view was breathtaking. Jonathan offered us tea. We shared a simple but rich meal of vegetables, cheese, and crusty bread à la Française.

Later that evening, Leila took me to a small gathering in the village—eight women, mostly Hispanic, all vibrant. We shared food, stories, and mojitos. I forgot the week’s stress. I laughed. I belonged.

In that moment, I saw the essence of community work: small acts, shared humanity, and the courage to welcome one another.