Obakki’s homeware collections tell a story of craft with a humanitarian mission

Vancouver-based Obakki is a lifestyle brand that connects its customers to the world around them through human stories and handcraft. Founded by Canadian designer and humanitarian entrepreneur Treana Peake in 2005, within two years it was already ploughing profits into international development through the Obakki Foundation, the retailer's philanthropic arm: funding earthquake relief, creating access to clean water, drilling wells and building schools, helping roughly four million people to date.

Peake finds every product by travelling: tapestries by Gujarat weavers, Oaxacan clay objects, and glass plates inspired by the slow flow of fog through Osaka. For her latest collection, she travelled to Morocco, where she discovered sustainably harvested prickly pear oil, ancient Tadelakt pottery, and naturally dyed Moroccan rugs that seem to have soaked up the shifting amber light of the desert.

With her unique business model based on empathy, Peake has an origin story that bears repetition. Raised by a single mom in a small Alberta town, she grew up in financial straits. One day, someone pushed an envelope of cash under the door. The envelopes arrived, year after year, paying rent, furnishing Christmases and birthday parties.

'This envelope was everything when there was nothing,' Peake said during a 2015 TEDxVancouver talk. It became a model for how she wanted to live her life. Even after, in fairytale fashion, marrying the guitarist for Nickelback, Peake made sure that hers remained a story about the virtuous loop of a pay-it-forward world view, in which people are privileged over products, success is savoured by giving to others, and the thank-you loop remains in perpetual motion.

An interview with Obakki founder, Treana Peake

Wallpaper*: What experience enabled you to create Obakki?

Treana Peake: I studied psychiatry with a focus on rehabilitation services. But I really took my education from the field, spending the past 35 years working in conflict zones, receiving hands-on training from the UN and various others in the development sector. My first trip was to Cameroon when I was 17 years old.

W*: Obakki was originally a fashion label, can you tell me more about that?

TP: Yes. Obakki exhibited all over the world, selling in department stores, but from the start, fashion was never just about clothes for me. We used it as a platform for creating change and despite the extreme differences between fashion and development, we were successful. In Bidi Bidi, one of the world’s largest refugee resettlement areas, I met women who told me, ‘These hands are made for growing rice, not for receiving bags of rice.’ That moment changed everything for me. I handed them paint and paper and asked them to tell their stories visually. We printed their designs on textiles, sold them globally, and reinvested 100 per cent of the profits back into their community. This funded agricultural farms, tailor shops, soap-making collectives, and clean water projects. It was the beginning of merging fashion with impact.

At the same time, I spent years drilling wells in South Sudan and other countries. After each well, I’d gather the villagers and ask, ‘How do we create long-term economic security?’ Women would bring forward pots, textiles, or handmade pieces, items they had been creating for generations. That’s when I realised that creativity and craft could be a bridge to sustainability. My philanthropic work and my creative outlet merged naturally. Today, we work with artisans in more than 19 countries.

W*: Why did you leave the fashion industry?

TP: Even with all our efforts – local manufacturing, natural fibers, reuse of materials – the fashion system itself just isn’t built for sustainability. The entire supply chain is misaligned: buying calendars, fabric production schedules, and marketing timelines rarely sync up. You’re often forced to overproduce fabrics or overcommit without confirmed orders.

Then there are the realities of big retail such as buyback policies, penalties, and products that never even make it onto the sales floor. It became clear that even as one of the 'sustainable' brands, we were operating inside a system that fundamentally wasn’t. I needed to take all that creative energy and put it into something more transparent, lasting, and ethical.

W*: Where did you find Obakki's first collection?

TP: Our first collection came from Mali. I travelled deep into the north, crossing rivers on small boats to meet artisans creating indigo-dyed textiles, mud cloth, wooden bowls, and pottery. Those pieces became the start of everything. They sold out quickly, but more importantly, they set the tone for how we would work: through relationships, respect, and preservation of heritage techniques.

W*: When you were a child, your family experienced a repeated act of generosity in a time of need. What did that anonymous kindness mean to you then?

TP: Every year, someone would slip an unmarked envelope of money under our door to help my family get through the year. We never knew who it came from. I used to lie awake wondering what kind of person would do something like that without ever expecting anything in return.

That experience made me believe in the quiet goodness of people, and it became the foundation of the Obakki Foundation. I could never close that thank-you loop and I’ve spent my life trying to pay it forward. Now, when someone says to me, 'How can I ever repay you?' I get to say, 'You don’t have to. Just pass it on.'

W*: How do you form partnerships and bring a product to market?

TP: It always begins with trust. I spend time in each community, learning their process, understanding their challenges, and identifying how we can build on their existing strengths. We enter every relationship with a long-term vision.

In rural regions, or in communities where our foundation is also active, we first focus on ensuring there’s a strong local market in place. This step is essential so that artisans are not dependent solely on us as an international buyer. After many years of development work, I’ve seen firsthand the harm that can occur when external influence disrupts local economies. Sustainability only exists when our involvement holds the same weight as local demand.

Once a healthy market balance is established, we begin purchasing their work and reinvesting profits back into the community through our foundation. This support takes many forms – clean water access, livelihood initiatives, education, healthcare - always defined in collaboration with the artisans and their villages.

W*: Do you have any favourite Obakki products?

TP: My favourite pieces aren’t necessarily about the design itself but about the story and the person behind them. When you understand that there’s a person behind the object – sometimes a woman who’s walked miles up a mountain to gather clay, then spent weeks moulding and firing it in her outdoor kiln – you begin to view things differently. And when you fill your home with these small memories, your space starts to feel global, layered, and alive with meaning and authenticity.

W*: You must see suffering and hardship during your travels. Where do you find hope?

TP: Hope is something I see in people every day. I’ve spent much of my life in the field, travelling to some of the most remote places on earth – from refugee camps to small rural villages that take days to reach – and what I always find is connection, love, understanding, curiosity. For me, hope lives in those human connections. Sometimes I need to turn off the noise and simply be present with others.