Beauty in a Barrio

I am quickly losing my fear of motos...I don't know if that is a good thing. I think I just like the few minutes in time where I get to enjoy the wind, bumping road, and no talking...it is a loud silence that gives me time to not think and just enjoy. I have been reading a great book recently, Gift from the Sea, which tells of a woman's experience of leaving the city in Connecticut a for a while and planting herself in a cottage on a deserted beach. In any event she discusses the idea of a need for one to take a few minutes each day for solitude and the opportunity to revel in the present. Somehow, these moto taxi trips do that for me...worth a mil at least.

While it doesn't exude conventional beauty, the barrio where the school is located reminds me of the rough yet sweet voice of Johnny Cash when he sings "Hurt". It is a gorgeous community that rises out of a most unexpected, seemingly devastated landscape. Trash is everywhere, baking under the unrelenting sun and houses are mere concrete/plywood/brick boxes. Donkeys burdened by large tanks wobble up the pitted dirt road to the barrio and deposit water from the only source, a battered plastic hose about a quarter of a mile from the school. 

The communal 'shower' consists of a plastic hose that runs a trickle of water all day to provide the only possible means of cleansing the film of dust that covers all inhabitants of the barrio. The 'cancha de futbol' is riveted with deep creases left by rains desperately needed, yet greatly destructive. Today a horse lay panting in the middle of field, sucking water from a bucket in an attempt to regain its footing and revive its emaciated body. 

This is not a place of great physical beauty, but sometimes (often times) the most beautiful places on earth are formed not by crystal waters and green valleys, but by the character of the people. in fact, I have found that such places, where the people create the beauty, never fade, but grow more attractive each day. This is the case with Valle de Gaira. 

Today my focus was on a young man by the name of Luis Felipe. He is 12 years old (in 4th grade at the same school as Alvaro, La Quinina Uno) and a middle child in a heap of 8 children. He has lived in Valle de Gaira for two years with his mother, step-father, and 7 siblings. He has attended CSF since the day the school opened its door and has since found himself drawn to the foundation for learning and love. 

When I asked him the compulsory questions that I was asking each student, it was his answer to the question, "Who is the most important person in your life?" that created quite an emotional response from one of the volunteers. He answered, "Seno Cerys porque me quiere mucho." (Cerys, because she loves me a lot). Cerys heard the response. It wasn't contrived; it was simply honest. The most important person in his life is the teacher that loves him. 

Later, at home, I was talking with Cerys about Luis' response and she got a little teary (this, from a gal that doesn't like to cry in front of anyone). I know she must know she is important in these children's lives, but maybe she doesn't realize the enormity of the impact her commitment and passion provides them. 

If Valle de Gaira had a theme song...it might go a little something like this: