Not Going to the Fair

It’s become some sort of a tradition that really has nothing to do with our work. I mean, how educational is a trip to the Fair? What fun is it to see drunken guys slouched over tables, their pants wet with pee? The apathy on the faces of the people in charge of the games and rides? The complete lack of emotion when they hand you your plastic cheaper-than-cheap prize you won shooting blanks? The stink of stale beer, urine, unwashed bodies and cotton candy? Still, there is an undeniable appeal to it that makes me go year after year. Not that I’ll ever get into any of those scary rides without safety precautions. Not even the mini Ferris Wheel, despite my awe for the monstrous arms of the guy who turns the wheel manually! The colours (Pink! Orange! Yellow! Turquoise!) are just amazing and the not-so anatomically-correct “hot ladies” painted on the signs to attract the audience are almost too beautiful to be true… I LOVE the Fair that visits Copán every year. And in order not to make a fool of myself wandering around with my mouth half open in blissful wonder, I always bring along a bunch of kids. I invite them as “part of the scholarship” they receive from us, just to justify the whole thing. And truth is, the Fair is even better if you take some rascals who thoroughly enjoy risking a whiplash in the bumper cars, overdosing themselves on artificial colorants or getting dizzy and even a little scared on the Ferris Wheel.
But this year we never went. Josué, a kid with the greatest smile and cutest dimples in his cheeks who comes by our office everyday just to say hello, has been one of the lucky few always invited to the Fair. It was him who asked me weeks ago if were going again this year. "We’ll see,” I said. But then we were busy painting out of town, we took a day off, we’re doing tons of other stuff and before I knew it, the Fair was over and the grounds were abandoned but for layers of litter.
On Monday morning, after the festival of Copán was over for the year, Josué came by and hung around my desk, not looking as radiant as usual. It was only when I saw him that I realized we had missed our yearly excursion.
“We never went to the Fair, did we?” I said.
Josué was very quiet. After a while he asked:
“So you didn’t go to the Fair either?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Oh.” Josué was deadly quiet for a while. Then he said with a trembling lip. “I thought you went without us…”
Oh my God, what had I done!
“Of course not,” I assured him and it wasn’t until I solemnly swore, my right hand raised, the other one over my heart, that I would never EVER go to the Fair without inviting Josué, that the smile reappeared back on his face.
Oof…
So next year you’ll see me at the Fair again…
Carin Steen
Foto: Fair 2009, Josué in the middle

Painting in El Triunfo Part II

Yet again we were ready for a long, hot and dusty day. But the weather decided otherwise and the 1,5 hour trip to El Triunfo was wet and cold. Chilled to the bone we arrived in El Triunfo where we drove out the cold by hard physical labour. We put new screens in the windows, a new door for the latrine and a faucet inside the classroom. The furniture needed a second layer of paint and both inside and outside walls needed to be finished. But we were not alone. Although Marlen called in sick, we had the help of the teachers Alba and Maritza, and the adorable eight year old Alexander (“Chandi”). Soon we had an audience and even more help, because a bunch of girls also wanted to paint. Maritza brought us a pot of hot coffee, a neighbour pitched in with steaming elotes (corn on the cob) and Santiago, a curious kid on a bicycle, bought us cookies form the pulpería. It was hard work none the less and we didn’t finish until 5.30pm. But the job was done. The tiny school looked great with us looking as colourful as the building itself. Although we all dreamed of soaking in hot water, we skipped our plan to stop at the hot springs because it was late as it was. For now, mission accomplished…

But more work still needs to be done. We still have a few games in the making as well as a small library. There was no time to paint any murals (numbers, letters, shapes and such) on the inside walls, so I’ll do that next time I’ll be in the neighbourhood. We also plan to organize a few training sessions for Maritza and Alba as well as two young teachers from La Pintada. Hopefully I can convince them that kindergarten is all about playing, not about copying the alphabet. Still, whatever the children learn is better than nothing and I have great respect for Maritza and her friend Alba who are actually working as volunteers this year. Previously, Maritza earned a small stipend from the Municipality of Copán Ruinas (about $ 100 a month). Thing is, Maritza is a Liberal in heart and soul, and the new local government isn’t. So no more support for Maritza’s projects. That’s how things are done in Honduras. All the more reason to keep supporting this amazing woman.
Carin Steen

Painting in El Triunfo: Photos

Our helper Chandi

Marlen holding the baby girl

Estela and her family, at home (hold on to those boobies!)

Londin eating chicken soup at Maritza's.

Marlen and Kike cleaning brushes

Lourdes Estela, the baby for the first time in her father's hands.

Painting in El Triunfo Part I

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, I met an amazing woman who changed her world and who keeps working her magic, even though she looks far from a fairy. Well, a godmother fairy maybe. I’m talking about Maritza Dubon from the tiny village of El Triunfo. One of the few things worthwhile mentioning about El Triunfo is that it is located almost two hours from Copán over dusty roads, just before the bigger community of Nueva Armenia. The road to Nueva Armenia cuts right through the village and thus it sees quite a bit of traffic (at least ten cars a day). Besides that, El Triunfo is more about what isn’t there. Or it used to be, because thanks to Maritza’s tireless efforts, a lot of help has found its way to the village. For starters, the children don’t have to walk to Nueva Armenia anymore to go to school. Years ago Maritza started her own school and soon the students didn’t fit in the one-room building anymore. She then somehow got the municipality to build her another, bigger building and the former school was turned into a kindergarten. Maritza herself taught grade 1-6 while her oldest daughter Lourdes Estela took care of the fifty-odd kinder-kids. Since I met Maritza I’ve been trying to help her here and there and the bond I feel with this community only became stronger when the kindergarten was named after me. (A great honour, yes. Also a great responsibility…)
Last year we helped the kinder with supplies and games and we also went to El Triunfo one day in January to paint the school of bare cinder blocks. We didn’t have any money designated for this, so we used whatever we had and the results was bright and colourful. An improvement, but I was very aware about things that still needed to be done and that even painting was a job half done with leftovers of water based paint. So I promised Maritza I’d try to look for funds and I was very happy to tell her that I indeed had gotten 850 euros from the Dutch foundation Join!forkids to fix up the school and make durable toys and educational material. So for the last few weeks the whole Arte Acción Copán Ruinas team has been working on making all sorts of games and toys. Elsa made a fabric busy-board with buttons, zippers and clips for the tiny ones to develop their motor skills. Marlen made a huge tick-tack-toe board with round and flower-shaped pillows. Kike and Londin made some shelves that I transformed with some paint into an interactive game. A memory game, cans to run on, more shelves… What a great job we have to be able to do this for a living! We haven’t finished inventing yet, but we found a rare gap in our busy schedules to be able to all go to El Triunfo again, to paint the school, but this time for real. We were all set, the car/driver/handyman hired, the only problem was that I hadn’t been able to confirm our visit with Maritza, because cell phone communication is spotty since she lives in a place high up in the mountains with no way to charge a battery. So it wasn’t until last Sunday that I finally got a hold of her and strangely enough she asked me if I couldn’t come another day. Why? Oh, because she was about to leave to El Jaral, to the maternity clinic there.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were pregnant again,” I said, realizing that Maritza always looks likes she’s in her fifth month or so.
“No, it isn’t me. It’s Estelita. I’m gonna be a grandmother!”
Oh. I quickly remembered to congratulate her on this fact while my brain did the math: Estela can’t be much older than fifteen. In fact, she is fifteen. Damn.
Anyway, I assured her we wouldn’t cause any trouble, that she only had to tell someone to open the school for us and that would be it. Of course I ended up buying a big basket with baby stuff and in the end we gave the brand new mom, the two grandmothers and the so far nameless baby girl a ride home. Three generations filled the cabin (Estela with cotton in her ears against the “evil air”). The other grandma, us and the painting supplies in the back of the pick-up. The father of the baby (there actually is a father of the baby) had already gone home from the clinic, because he couldn’t stand standing up any longer (???? I’ve seen women sitting /laying/ stretched out /slouched on any possible surface there for days!). Anyway, it was quite special to be there to take pictures of the father laying eyes on his daughter for the first time and of the baby’s arrival home (and the young mom holding her boobies that now seem to have a life of their own).
Then, after delivering the baby and such, we finally started to paint. We laughed, we worked, we got sunburned, but by the end of the day the furniture and outer walls looked quite nice. And that was just day 1.
To be continued….
Carin Steen