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BORN IN THE USA: NAMING CEREMONIES OF INFANTS
AMONG SIERRA LEONEANS
LIVING IN THE AMERICAN CAPITAL
'What is your name?' I asked a seven year
old girl who sat down beside me.
'Amy, my name is Amy'.
She wore a blue and white polka-dot dress
with a crisp crinoline beneath it, black patent
leather 'Maryjanes' and white cotton socks
with frilly laced trim. Her father, sitting
nearby, smiled. But her aunt Sama,
magnificent in a brightly coloured dress of
West African cloth, upbraided the child:
'Your name is Amie, Aminata! You are
Sierra Leonean, not American!'
Amy/Aminata stared blankly, ignoring
Sama. Sama stared back, then turned on the
child's father:
'What are you doing? Why do you let

your child take on this American name?
How will she know who she is?'
For Sama, as for other Sierra Leoneans
living in the diaspora, names - particularly
of children born and raised in America -
have come to symbolize the boundaries of a
community based in an imagined homeland.
To change a name to 'sound American', one
parent told me, 'is to erase our existence'.
This essay is based upon two years of
fieldwork in the Washington D.C.
metropolitan area among an ethnically
diverse community of Sierra Leonean
Muslim migrants. My informants live in
settings as varied as suburban
Maryland/Virginia and the heart of the inner
city. With no physical ethnic neighbourhood
in the classic sense, they have created for
themselves a sense of community rooted in
their memories of an African homeland, in
ethnicity, and in religion.1
Central to the lives of many parents is the
notion of an 'authentic' Sierra Leonean
Muslim culture. Articulated in a number of
ways, this notion is centred on a powerful,
romanticized, and deeply nostalgic telling of
homeland - one that, for many of my
informants, is entwined with Islam. Parents
often lament the 'Americanization' of their
children and work to offset the process.
Particularly through ceremony and ritual,
parents draw for their children a set of
boundaries that reflect a collective identity,

protect their children from outside forces,
and construct for them an authoritative
'telling' of an imagined homeland. To their
parents, Sierra Leonean children represent a
metaphorical border zone from which
parents gaze into a re-created Sierra Leone,
a homeland that is imbued with their own
longing for an 'uncontaminated'
preimmigration past, the so-called 'pure
culture' of home.
Ordered to reflect the familiar (homeland),
naming ceremonies nevertheless enact the
unfamiliar (America). In turn, the American
landscape, shaped and understood in terms
of its juxtaposition to the Sierra Leone
homeland, deepens the boundaries, making
them appear impenetrable. But are they?
Participants in naming ceremonies
continually recast boundaries in response to
a series of references embedded in the
opposition of self/other. That opposition,
informed by the problematic of
displacement, constructs multiple frames of
reference and meaning in which the deeply
territorialized and imagined constructs
homeland/America encounter actual lived
experience, simultaneously locating
seemingly separate spheres of meaning
within one social space. Hence, naming
ceremonies, in their capacity to imbue
geographic space with the imagined
boundaries of homeland, continually recast
those boundaries in response to the ongoing
negotiation of meaning, creating multiple

domains within which participants respond
to social, religious, political and economic
pressures, and providing the ground on
which social experience is mediated in more
complex and differentiated ways.
Thanksgiving Day, 1991
My husband and I enter the living room of
Abdul and Isha's suburban northern Virginia
home, a modest second-floor two-bedroom
garden apartment in a quiet working class
neighbourhood. In the small room we
encounter about twenty-five men and
women who are engaged in a variety of
activities. Most of the men sit on couches
lining two walls of the room. Some are
wearing pale blue or white embroidered
African shirts, a few even wear patterned
shirt-pants outfits, but most are dressed
casually in American clothing. The women,
virtually all wearing brightly coloured
dresses tailored from African cloth, move
back and forth between the bedroom (where
a three-week old girl is being prepared for
her ritual naming), the living room (where
food is laid out), and the kitchen (where, as
I would soon learn, a second table is
covered with food). Abdul, his brother, and
the imam who will perform the ceremony sit
in folding chairs facing the row of couches.
Abdul wears an African shirt, polyester
pants, and a white cotton crocheted prayer
cap. Abdul's brother and the imam are
dressed similarly. Above the chatter of hosts
and guests, Qur'anic recitation sounds from
a battery-powered cassette player that sits on

an end table by the sofa; concurrently a
professional football game blares from the
27" colour television that dominates one
corner of the living room.2
As in many Sierra Leonean homes, the
walls are sparsely decorated with framed
posters of Qur'anic verses, a black-framed
colour picture of the Grand Mosque in
Mecca, and several pieces of tourist art from
back home: roughly carved generic
mini-masks and banana leaves with ink
drawings of 'natives' in 'traditional'
costume. Over the front door hangs a
framed, glossy magazine photograph (Time
or Newsweek most likely) of Ronald and
Nancy Reagan, by now ex-president and
first lady. The Reagans, smiling, wave to an
audience that is unseen but undoubtedly
enthralled. My husband and I both note
instantly the seeming incongruity of this
particular image. However, to Abdul and his
wife the Reagans seem perfectly in place,
simultaneously sharing the wall with both
religious and homeland representations.
The juxtapositions of image and sound,
particularly the Qur'anic recitation and
football 'sportspeak', intrigue me even more.
Early on in my fieldwork I might have
presumed that the television would be shut
off when the naming ceremony began. By
now I am used to the swirl of sounds, sacred
and profane, at such occasions playing side
by side without conflict. This ceremony is
one that purports to challenge such

juxtapositions, to reassert an 'authentic' over
the 'syncretic'. Nevertheless, as the imam
recites Qur'anic verses to open the naming
ceremony, the football play-by-play
continues in the background, becoming part
of the event. Eyes, at one moment fixed on
the imam, drift to the television at any
possibility of a dramatic play. Even the
imam, my husband later claimed, 'had one
eye on the game', while never missing a
Qur'anic beat.
The layout of the food and the
corresponding swirl of smells also reflects
the duality of the event. For today we are
celebrating both a Sierra Leonean Muslim
naming and the American holiday of
Thanksgiving. The table set up in the living
room is covered with the usual West
African-style fare for such events: plasauce
(a leaf and palm oil based stew) and rice,
roasted halal meat on skewers, somosas,
salad, fruit and ginger beer. The aroma of
onions, pepper, ginger and hot palm oil fill
the apartment. Most ceremonies, whatever
the occasion, are 'potluck', with all
participants expected to bring a dish - a
'sacrifice'. I add my own offering, a
home-baked banana bread, my usual - and
very popular - contribution, and compliment
the women around me for laying out such a
lovely table.
16 ANTHROPOLOGY TODAY Vol 14 No 1, February 1998

2013 18:09:49 PM
'Wait', one woman tells me with a gleam
in her eyes, 'you haven't seen it all!'
Taking me firmly by the arm, she leads
me into the kitchen, where a complete and
very traditional American turkey dinner is
laid out on a second table. Ordered from a
local supermarket, cooked and ready to
serve, was a fully stuffed and roasted
15-pound turkey. The aroma of the bread
stuffing - the combination of rosemary,
thyme, celery and onion - wafted through
the room. Alongside the turkey sat the usual
American trimmings: mashed potatoes, corn,
green beans and cranberry sauce. If the
aromas of the living room evoked memories
to us all of Africa, the kitchen greeted me
with all the sensory reminders of childhood
holidays with family and friends.
The naming ceremony, a combination of
Qur'anic recitation and a sermon during
which the mother and child sit at the centre
of the room with the imam, cannot
commence until Isha is satisfied that she and
her 3-week old daughter are properly attired.
Dressed in Western clothing - a colourful
skirt and top reserved for special events, and
unveiled - Isha will not let the ceremony
start until she has draped a large piece of

patterned cloth from Sierra Leone over her
head. In arranging this cloth she makes sure
that her baby, also dressed in Western
clothing (a two-piece white knitted outfit
that I had given as a birth gift) has a bit of
the cloth draped over her as well. When Isha
is satisfied that she and her daughter are
properly covered, the naming ceremony
begins.
It was only after I had given birth to my
son two years later and was given a bolt of
African cloth by a Zimbabwean friend - 'so
you can wrap your child in Africa' - that I
understood the importance that Isha gave to
wrapping her daughter and herself in a bit of
cloth from Sierra Leone. Dressed in the
'Sunday best' of the American world in
which her child was born, Isha's insistence
upon 'wrapping herself in Africa'
dramatized the importance of homeland to
the participants. Using the cloth to mask the
realities of their American context and
connecting herself and her American-born
child through that cloth to homeland, Isha
blurred the boundaries of the seemingly
separate worlds that were symbolized in a
Sierra Leonean-born mother and father and
an American-born child, and by the multiple
representations of the two worlds in which
they lived. The cloth linked the incongruous
juxtapositions of the event, symbolizing the
importance of connecting two worlds so that
the newborn was not abandoned to the
world of her birth.

'This child is being named properly'
The ceremony begins with Qur'anic
recitation. The imam, the father, and the
mother, holding the infant in her arms, all sit
in the centre of the room on metal folding
chairs. The guests grow quiet; the tape
player has been shut off, but the football
game plays on. The imam, who has arrived
recently from Sierra Leone, is a follower of
the Saudi-trained Imam Bashara, a religious
teacher who has been gaining prominence in
Freetown and whose influence was
beginning to reach into the Washington,
D.C. community at the beginning of my
fieldwork.4 The imam begins his sermon,
which he delivers in Krio, by praising 'the
Arabs' for their 'proper' practice. He
implores all present to follow their example:
If you practice as the Arabs do, then you
will reap the same benefits. Your children will
be trained properly and have the tools not to
give in to the evils of America. This child is
being named properly. There is no drink here. I
have seen too much of that in America...
Focusing on the correct behaviour of
Muslims in general, and the proper way in
which to name a child in particular, he
continues:
When naming a child in the U.S., many
parents give big parties. They serve alcohol.
This is not proper. When a child is born, after
seven days you are to call the adhan (the call

for prayer) in her ears and name the child. This
is our obligation to the child. How will the
child know who she is until we name her? How
will she know she is a Muslim? This child will
be brought up properly. Her parents have set
her feet on the right path.
In challenging what he perceives as the
syncretic, corrupted practices of some
Muslim Sierra Leoneans, this imam implores
his followers to search for authenticity in
purity of practice. In his sermon he attempts
to dismantle and, ultimately, erase elements
of practice in the United States that he
deems alien. His assertion that he has seen
too much evil in America is ultimately
directed at practices within his own
community, rather than an abstract evil
Other called America.
To many of the participants at this event
the imam's words hit home. Turning back to
perceived 'traditional' practices - in this
case naming children within a traditional
time frame (within the first seven days of a
child's life) rather than within the prolonged
time frame that has emerged in the United
States (whenever enough money is saved to
have a big party) - is for many a strategy
whereby new parents can regain a sense of
self that they feel has been lost living in a
foreign context.
The sermon ended, the imam names the
baby. Taking her from her mother, holding
her close to him, he whispers the adhan,

then her names into both her ears so that
only she can hear. The infant lies quietly in
his arms while all look on. The imam then
turns to the parents and asks if they had
reached agreement together on the child's
names. They affirm this quietly and the
imam announces the baby's name aloud
several times. Her name, we are told, is
Adana. It means 'the beginning of
humanity'. It is this name, first whispered to
the child and then announced publicly, that
introduces the newborn to her community.
The naming ceremony complete, the food
is served. Having done their best to ignore
the football game during the proceedings,
the men now turn full attention to the
television. The older children present, all
either American-born or having lived most
of their lives in the United States, also sit
down to watch the game. I hear them
complaining quietly to each other that they
have missed important plays. The women
begin to serve the men, piling Sierra
Leonean food onto heavy-duty paper plates.
Sitting to the side writing notes, I am
ordered by the women to 'Get up and serve
your husband', who has become drawn into
the men's discussion of the game. The
women instruct me to fill his plate with
Sierra Leonean food first; the turkey will be
served afterwards.5
All the trimmings
This particular event was shaped in the

context of a series of discourses and
counter-discourses in which issues of
homeland, Islamic practice, and identity
intertwined to shape and inscribe the terrain
on which the ceremony was taking place. It
also entailed a vigorous challenge to
practices common among Sierra Leoneans in
this community.
Most naming ceremonies that I attended
were elaborate affairs, 'big parties' held in
rented halls with a hired disc jockey blasting
'party music' through over-sized speakers,
and often with alcohol present for those who
wished to consume it. As one informant told
me, an elaborate party 'is more important
now than naming your child was in the
traditional time. You don't want your child
to grow up thinking you didn't give them
the best'. Parents often scrimp and save for
a year or more to afford the event. As a
result, many children are well into
toddlerhood before they are officially
named. Yet some Sierra Leonean Muslim
parents worry that unnamed children are in
danger of spiritual anonymity. One
informant feared for her one year old
daughter:
'What if the child dies before she is
named? It would be a disaster! The child
would have no identity before God!'
Increasingly, some parents have begun to
contest the 'big party' naming ceremonies,
Abdul and Isha among them. Their turn

toward practices defined as more authentic
cannot be seen as the simple erasure of
elements deemed foreign. Rather, they
continually recast imagined traditional forms
to construct an essentialized Muslim Sierra
Leonean homeland.
Community, defined by the elusive
construct of homeland, built up and
authenticated by the categories 'Us' and
'Them', and illustrated in the naming
ceremony described above, forms the
foundation on which Sierra Leonean men
and women build their immigrant lives in
the United States. But as Angelika Bammer
(1994:xii) has pointed out, 'as we ever more
obsessively attempt to specify our precise
locations (the familiar "I am a [fill in the
ANTHROPOLOGY TODAY Vol 14 No 1, February 1998 17
2013 18:09:49 PM
blanks]" recitation), our sense of identity is
ineluctably, it seems, marked by a peculiarly
postmodern geography of identity: both here
and there and neither here nor there at one
and the same time.'
Nothing demonstrates this more clearly
than the finale to Adana's naming ceremony.

After sharing the Sierra Leonean food
prepared specifically for this occasion, in
due course we move on to the kitchen to
partake of the 'American' fare. The men,
who had expressed great enthusiasm for the
'African' food, eat with gusto, but are
markedly less animated about the turkey
dinner. After my husband and I voice our
own preference for the plasauce, some
confess to us that they find the turkey rather
bland (they were not wrong). The children,
however, are a different story. They move
with greater ease from living room to
kitchen tables. Piling plates high with
Thanksgiving dinner, they settle back down
in front of the football game. The naming
ceremony over, it is time to celebrate
Thanksgiving. To the kids, the turkey and
trimmings are a treat, a holiday break from
the African food that constitutes so
important a part of their normal daily diet.
Much to their parents' consternation, the
Thanksgiving dinner is familiar, delicious,
theirs. E
JoAnn D'Alisera
Department of Sociology and Anthropology,
Creighton University, Omaha, NE 68178
This is a revised version of a paper presented at the
1996 African Studies Association meeting. I am
deeply grateful to my husband Joel Gordon for his
collaboration during my fieldwork, and in writing this
paper. I would also like to thank Alma Gottlieb for
reading several drafts of this paper and for her

insightful comments. Thanks should also go to
Rosalind Shaw for insights concerning Imam
Bashara, Edward Bruner, Carole Counihan, and Susan
Jelly for their critical reading of this essay.
1. For a more detailed exposition of many of the
ideas presented here see D'Alisera 1997.
2. Sierra Leonean men who choose to participate
in sports in the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area
are overwhelmingly football fans, and more
importantly Washington Redskins fans. Games are
rarely missed, and this was the year that the Redskins
would win the Superbowl. Baseball, the 'national
pastime', was of no interest to these men. Women, if
interested in sports, would only express that interest
in terms of the men they were involved with,
although many of the women who were food vendors
in the District displayed Redskins paraphernalia on
their food carts because they said it pleased their
customers and made for better business (D'Alisera
1997).
3. In the Sierra Leonean context one scholar has
written that 'sacrifice' refers to 'strategies
employed...to control the outcomes of spiritual and
human action' and to 'appease angry ancestors'
(Ferme 1992:27). Of the many forms such sacrifices
may take, the one I refer to involved the preparation
of special foods and their placement in auspicious
places at ceremonies. As Ferme notes (1992:27), what
makes these actions sacrifices is 'their ritual setting,
with the offering of prayers and blessings' in a
communal setting.

4. By 1995 I was told that a group of Imam
Bashara's followers had formed in the District, where
they meet monthly and hold transcontinental
conference calls with their spiritual leader in
Freetown.
5. Women in the community often took me to task
for being a 'bad wife'. 'You are going to lose that
man', they would tell me. 'You don't pay enough
attention to him. He is too good for you!' When I
attended community events without him, they would
often send me home with food and ginger beer, trying
to cover my neglect. When they thought that I was
being really neglectful, they would tease me by
telling my husband directly, 'Get rid of that one and
we will find you a nice Sierra Leonean wife!
Bammer, Angelika. 1994. Displacement: Cultural
Identities in Question. Angelika Bammer, ed. Pp.
xi-xx. Bloomington: Indiana U.P.
D'Alisera, JoAnn. 1997. The Transnational Search
for Muslim Identity: Sierra Leoneans in America's
Capital. PhD Dissertation, Department of
Anthropology, University of Illinois,
Urbana-Champaign.
Ferme, Mariane. 1992. 'Hammocks Belong to Men,
Stools to Women': Constructing and Contesting
Gender Domains in a Mende Village (Sierra Leone,
West Africa). PhD Dissertation, Department of
Anthropology, University of Chicago.
INDIGENOUS HUMAN RIGHTS
Anthropologists have long been active in
trying to further Indigenous Human Rights,

but in recent years the lead has been taken
by specialist NGOs such as Survival. A
panel discussion jointly organized by the
RAI and Survival, held on 12 November
1997 at the Scientific Societies Lecture
Theatre in the West End of London (moved
from the old Museum of Mankind's lecture
theatre as it was too small). The evening was
opened by Jonathan Benthall recalling a
similar meeting held in 1971 at the
foundation of Survival International. The
panel, chaired by Olivia Harris, brought
together Stephen Corry (Survival), Gordon
Bennett (legal advisor to Survival), Laura
Rival (University of Kent), Richard Wilson
(University of Sussex), and George N.
Appell (Brandeis University, founding
sponsor of the Anthropologists' Fund for
Urgent Anthropological Research - AFUAR)
to discuss the relationship to wider questions
of human rights, and the actual and potential
role of anthropologists in supporting
indigenous human rights. The audience
comprised activists, anthropologists and
lawyers (many of whom had experience or
interest in combining these skills), whose
number and questions made evident a will
that anthropologists should return their
expertise to the field as advocates of
indigenous human rights.
Different suggestions of the appropriate
units with which to measure indigenous
human rights were discussed, and the
strategy of special rights itself questioned.
Each presentation addressed tensions in

working the interface between social
pragmatics, which are inherently dynamic,
and usable units which require edification. A
contrast emerged in the fields that NGOs,
lawyers and anthropologists occupy; in order
to gain currency, the media require a
simplification for public opinion, whereas
the law requires a simplification from
indigenous opinion. The need for an
'increasingly simplified message' leads
Survival to pragmatically portray only
certain aspects of indigenous life (Corry),
whilst legal discourses need codifications
that appear to simplify human rights
(Bennett), and simplify indigenous sociality
- thus misrepresenting complex realities and
power structures and impeding
implementation (Rival, Wilson). The role of
anthropologists in returning information
represented a further position of advocacy
(Appell). The value of ethnography directed
at these complexities was reiterated by
several speakers who pointed towards
solutions through local activism.
Corry addressed the media driven
changing role of Survival which remains
akin to a forensic advocate, defending
indigenous clients against transgressors in
the presence of the jury which is public
opinion, and which revolves on the
symbiotic flows of messages in the media,
subscription income and pressure on
powerful organizations operating in
indigenous areas. A 'romanticized'

portrayal, avoiding issues such as past
headhunting, or present whaling and
trapping, is rather Survival showing the
client in good light to pre-empt media
portrayals of 'savages'; there is no fixed end
point in human rights, and the real gains
made may yet be undone.
Bennett reviewed the changes to human
rights brought into law since Survival began,
and contrasted universal and specific rights.
Whilst some national constitutions confer
special status on various bases, regional
organizations have also formed whose
conventions and commissions supplement
several international declarations established
under the auspices of the UN. Rather than
from grand legislation, the reconciliation of
indigenous interests with those of the wider
community will come through a case by
case basis, primarily from indigenous
peoples themselves - efforts which
surveyors, anthropologists and lawyers
should prepare to assist.
Through long involvement as
anthropologist and activist with the
Huaorani of Amazonian Ecuador, Rival
presented limitations in the aims and bases
18 ANTHROPOLOGY TODAY Vol 14 No 1, February 1,998
2013 18:09:49 PM

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jspArticle
Contentsp. 16p. 17p. 18Issue Table of ContentsAnthropology
Today, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Feb., 1998), pp. 1-28Front Matter [pp. 1-
1]The New Captains of Information [pp. 1-3]By Means of Re-
Membering: Notes on a Fieldwork with English Children [pp. 3-
7]The Politicization of 'Culture' [pp. 7-15]How to Trap a
Giraffe [p. 15]NarrativeBorn in the USA: Naming Ceremonies
of Infants Among Sierra Leoneans Living in the American
Capital [pp. 16-18]ConferencesIndigenous Human Rights [pp.
18-19]Time with the Other: A Diary in the AAA Sense of the
Term [pp. 19-21]Anthropological Reflections on Pedagogic
Culture and Its Institutional Organization [pp. 21-22]Obituary
[pp. 22-23]Letters [p. 24]News [pp. 24+26-27]RAI News [pp.
27-28]Back Matter [pp. 25-28]
Project Management Case
You are working for a large, apparel design and manufacturing
company, Trillo Apparel Company (TAC), headquartered in
Albuquerque, New Mexico. TAC employs around 3000 people
and has remained profitable through tough economic times. The
operations are divided into 4 districts; District 1 – North,
District 2 – South, District 3 – West and District 4 – East. The
company sets strategic goals at the beginning of each year and
operates with priorities to reach those goals.Trillo Apparel
Company Current Year Priorities
· Increase Sales and Distribution in the East
· Improve Product Quality
· Improve Production in District 4
· Increase Brand Recognition
· Increase RevenuesCompany Details
Company Name: Trillo Apparel Company (TAC)
Company Type: Apparel design and production
Company Size: 3000 employees
Position
# Employees
Owner/CEO
1

Vice President
4
Chief Operating Officer
1
Chief Financial Officer
1
Chief Information Officer
1
IT Department
38
District Manager
4
Sales Team
30
Accountant
12
Administrative Assistant
7
Order Fullfilment
45
Customer Service
57
Designer
24
Project Manager
10
Maintenance
25
Operations
2500
Shipping Department
240
Total Employees
3000
Products: Various Apparel

Corporate Location: Albuquerque, New MexicoTAC
Organization Chart
District 4 Production Warehouse Move Project Details
The business has expanded considerably over the past few years
and District 4 in the East has outgrown its current production
facility. Because of this growth the executives want to expand
the current facility, moving the whole facility 10 miles away.
The location selected has enough room for the production and
the shipping department. However, the current warehouse needs
some renovation to accommodate the district’s operational
needs.
The VP of Operations estimates the production and shipping
warehouse move for District 4 will provide room required to
generate the additional $1 million/year product revenues to
meet the current demand due to the expanded production
capacity. Daily production generates $50,000 revenue so a week
of downtime will cost $250,000 in lost revenues.
The move must be completed in 4 months.
Mileage between the old and new facilities is 10 miles.
Bids have been received from contractors to build out the new
office space and production floor and have signed contracts for
work as follows:
Activity
Company Providing Services
Total Contract
Supplies
Time Needed
Pack, move and unpack production equipment
City Equipment Movers
$150,000
n/a
5 Days

Move non-production equipment and materials
Express Moving Company
$125,000
n/a
5 Days
Framing
East Side Framing & Drywall
$121,000
$125,000
15 Days
Electrical
Sparks Electrical
$18,000
$12,000
10 Days
Plumbing
Waterworks Plumbing
$15,000
$13,000
10 Days
Drywall
East Side Framing & Drywall
$121,000
$18,000
15 Days
Finish Work
Woodcraft Carpentry
$115,000
$15,000
15 Days
Build work benches for production floor
Student Workers Carpentry
$112,000
$110,000
15 Days

Production workdays are Monday through Saturday. The actual
move must be completed in 5 days for as little disruption to
production activities as possible. All contractors are on other
projects but have been booked in advance. The contractors will
gain the necessary permits and schedule city and county
inspections but these tasks need to be identified separately due
to the length of time it can take. Permitting and inspections can
take from one to three weeks, depending upon schedule and the
flexibility of the inspector. The new warehouse is empty and
can be accessed immediately. Framing cannot start until the
permits are received. Electrical and plumbing can begin as soon
as the framing is finished. Drywall cannot start until the
electrical and plumbing inspections are complete. After the
drywall is completed, final inspections will be completed by the
county and city. After both the county and city have passed the
new construction, finish work can begin. Building the product
floor work benches can occur at any time before the move
occurs.
Chief Executive
Officer
Chief Operating
Officer
Chief Financial
Officer
VP Sales &
Marketing
Chief Information
Officer
Executive
Assistant
VP
Operations
VP Customer
Service
Inbound Call
Manager

Outbound Call
Manager
Outbound Call
Team (20)
Inbound Call
Team (35)
IT
Manager
IT Staff
(37)
Sales Team
(30)
Accountants
(12)
District2
Manager
District 3
Manager
District1
Manager
District 4
Manager
D1 Operations
(500)
D1 Operations
(650)
D3 Operations
(450)
D4 Operations
(900)
Administrative
Assistant
Administrative
Assistant
Administrative
Assistant

Administrative
Assistant
Administrative
Assistant
Administrative
Assistant
Order Fulfillment
(45)
Shipping
(50)
Shipping
(50)
Shipping
(50)
Shipping
(90)
Maintenance
(5)
Maintenance
(5)
Maintenance
(5)
Maintenance
(10)
Project Managers
(10)
VP
Design
Design Team
(24)
Trillo Apparel Company
Chief Executive
Officer
Chief Operating
Officer �

Chief Financial
Officer�
VP Sales &
Marketing �
Executive
Assistant�
Chief Information
Officer�
VP
Operations�
VP Customer
Service �
Inbound Call
Manager�
Outbound Call
Team (20)�
Outbound Call
Manager�
Inbound Call
Team (35)�
IT
Manager�
IT Staff
(37)�
Sales Team
(30)
Accountants
(12)�
District2
Manager�
District 3
Manager�
District1
Manager�
District 4

Manager�
D1 Operations
(500)�
D1 Operations
(650)�
D3 Operations
(450)�
D4 Operations
(900)�
Administrative
Assistant �
Administrative
Assistant �
Administrative
Assistant �
Administrative
Assistant �
Administrative
Assistant �
Administrative
Assistant�
Shipping
(50)�
Order Fulfillment
(45)�
Shipping
(50)�
Shipping
(50)�
Shipping
(90)�
Maintenance
(5)�
Maintenance
(5)�
Maintenance

(5)�
Maintenance
(10)�
Project Managers
(10)�
VP
Design�
Design Team
(24)�
Trillo Apparel Company

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