“Pakuma”, I think it’s the best word I’ve ever heard. It’s great! It sounds like it could be used in any situation, a greeting: “Pakuma!”; a proposal: “want to Pakuma?”; even a condiment: “can I get some extra Pakuma on that?”. But, much as my imagination runs wild, it’s none of those things, it’s the name of a new brand of notebook bags and very nice they are too.
As you might expect, given the unusual title, Pakuma’s origins are rather different than most IT related products. In fact, they begin in the remote Gran Sabana region of Venezuela with the Pemon tribe, where designer (and explorer?) Christian Drew fell in love with their simple way of life and got inspired to bring the kind of practical durability they applied to their tools to all us lazy assed English. So he swiped the word Pakuma from them, copied the logo off one of their red jasper pendants, married one of the tribeswomen and hot tailed it back to the UK.
Now, I’m not sure the Pemon tribe use laptops a great deal, but it’s the motivating spirit that counts. The result is a range of rather funky, hardwearing designs styled in earthy colours. Two lines accompany the launch, the Akara backpacks (above) and the Choroka messenger bags (below).
Both ranges use rugged woven straps, YKK zips, and patented Duraflex buckles. As for the laptops themselves, they are stored in what Pakuma describes as their own “Notebook Cocoon”, a specially designed fixed pocket that holds the computer in place and cushions it with panels of high density memory foam (that stuff invented by NASA).
So by now if you’re beginning to feel the jungle beat, have started to draw camouflage patterns on your face and there’s a pencil sticking through your nose you’re probably wondering where you can track/hunt one down. Well, Pakuma already has deals in place with Mesh, rockdirect and MV and is inviting more distributors to join. Depending on size and colour combinations, the Akaras will set you back between £49.99 and £84.99 and the Choroka’s between £49.99 and £79.99 (all prices include VAT).
Why does the weak drizzle outside make me feel like doing a rain dance?