Lluvia, siempre la lluvia!

Well, the Festival de Maiz (Corn Festival) was an impressive event. Hundreds of people walked in a parade, then crammed into the church and onto the public square afterwards. A whole day centered around corn! A way of saying thanks to God for the bounty, explained one of the vendors. However, it rained all day and the performance scheduled for 4pm was cancelled. After understanding that we were rained out, I made my way to Es Artes to blog some more. To my surprise, the students were almost all here, even those who weren't involved in the days projected performance. Most of them were here at 1pm, an hour and a half early for the projected rehearsal, which was obviously cancelled. Some had been here since 10 am. For many of them, this is a very special place. Even the cool kids, who sometimes look like they don't want to be here, or at least act like it at moments, were here and stayed here. Es Artes has come to be a place of purpose and connection.
So, since they were all here, I decided to offer an impromtu stage combat class. They all stayed to participate. Even the young girl with the broken heart ( I assume ) and the tears in her eyes, sat in the corner and had a laugh at some of the work. They all wanted to be here and were ready to work, even on a day off. That would almost never happen in North America. Granted, many have no place else to go, but I still say it speaks to the power of Theater and Art, and the need for more of it in development projects.
I was told once that the head of the volunteer organisation for the region,on whose behalf I am working here, actually said that he does not believe in the value of Art in development programs! He would feel differently if he could see, hear and talk to these students!

Earlier, I sat in the church, long after the massive crowd had left. As the cleaners cleaned the pews, I was lucky to witness many people in prayer. Old women and men crept in, bowing their twisted old bodies and kneeling to pray. I remembered Tito saying that it is understood here that North Americans are rich in material things, but poor in spirituality. Here, the opposite is true. Many people have nothing, or less, but their spirituality, their faith and their hope is still strong. I was suddenly hit by a wave of great sadness as I thought of the old and infirm around me, the young and the fit alike, praying to God for forgiveness, for mercy, for comfort after years of hardship, hunger, poverty and war. My atheism felt so empty in comparison, so selfish. The sadness turned to joy as I heard the loud, almost obnoxious music and noise pouring in from the central square and thought of the beauty of these people, their infectious jollity, their remarkable and beautiful faces, their tremendous hearts. It was truly a touching moment. And in my stuborness, I did not kneel in prayer, though in my own way, I think I prayed a little too...

The beauty of this place is taking a stronger hold on my senses and my being. I will miss it much more than I ever thought. Better make the utmost of these last six days now...And to think, I never got to show them a stage combat choke because we had to let them get home!! Sigh, so many things to do, so little time. Thanks be to God!!