March 15, 2006, the day the clowns came back—40 prisoners in a Lima Peru jail, all teenage girls, had been waiting with anticipation since the first clown visit the previous week. That visit was a surprise and although a little scary at first, it was wonderful. They had talked about it after the clowns left; the dancing, the balloons, the hugs, the beautiful costumes, the clown music. They felt free for awhile, and forgot their confinement in a whirlwind of play and dance. Then, tearful goodbyes, with the clowns promising that they would return—but would they, really? Almost everyone doubted it. They were locked here in a jail, lonely, forgotten, irrelevant. And yet, here are two clowns getting out of the car! The big one with a duck on his head! And the little one playing the accordion! And the others? Oh the bus! It's here! The clowns are back!
March 4-18 2006, Gesundheit! Institute sponsored its first ever Alternative Spring Break Clown Trip. Originally we were to go to Venezuela, but 3 weeks before the trip, security concerns forced a change in plans. Within a week the Bola Roja clown group in Lima, old friends of Gesundheit, had arranged for a hotel, food and transportation, and put together a fabulous itinerary of clown visits to hospitals, orphanages, prisons, special needs adults, old people, facilities for abandoned children as well as visits to several very poor neighborhoods in the Lima region—and at a cost below budget.
We had two one-week clown trips, each with mostly college students, and led by our teen staff (Lars Adams, John Rock, Jessica Shelburne, Bonnie Ham, Cara Hodge, Lily Huggins and Terra Glick), who had been on many clown missions around the world over the last 5 years. Patch, Kevyn Burn and I were the "adult" staff, along with the Bola Roja Clown Association, a group of 15-20 Peruvian doctors and artists, actors, lawyers, psychologists, and other professionals, all well trained and very funny hospital clowns.
The Bola Roja group had never visited most of these sites before, so we were all flying by the seat of our clown pants. I noticed the enthusiasm in the bus the first day. Young people, not on spring break at some resort drinking to oblivion, but instead choosing to come to this very poor country, doing this strange and unique service, up close, with the poor, sick, disabled, and imprisoned.
As the clowns stepped from the bus, the girls inside the prison waved and shouted and laughed. The doors opened, the clowns entered, the doors closed, the lock clicked, the party began. We came bearing gifts and food, forty chickens grilled Peruvian style, and papas fritas (french fries) and soda pop. We sat on the ground, eating and talking, and trying as best we could to communicate. There were few translators, and many conversations that worked very well via gesture, smile, halting Spanish and English. When is your birthday? How many brothers and sisters? When do you get out of jail? Where do you live? We wanted to know what put them in jail, but it was not somehow the time and place to talk of such things. I found that most were there for theft, selling drugs, prostitution, and one girl for the murder of her father, who had repeatedly attacked her mother.
Many had resorted to crime to support their families. All came from desperately poor neighborhoods. They had been in terribly difficult situations. They had made mistakes. Most had terms of 3 years or less. All were radiant beings. When asked what the girls needed, their warden responded that most of them work in the prison to make clothing and postcards, sending their profits home to support their families. They needed more fabric, needles, thread, yarn, and art supplies. It was a warm, sunny day. There was much laughter. Lily showed them how to put a balloon on their heads and tie their hair up over the top, like a conehead. Some did two balloons, one to each side of their heads.
Seventeen students from Guilford University in North Carolina signed up for the first of the two weeks, 13 the second week, mostly from Virginia Commonwealth University, but one from Kansas, one from Holland, one from a high school. They each raised $1500 to come on this trip. Only a few had ever clowned before. They clowned in intensive care units, with children on ventilators, and with children with AIDS, TB, autism, cerebral palsy, cancer. They clowned with adults recovering from heart surgery, mothers on an obstetric ward (a small group of clowns wandered into the delivery suite as a baby was being born — a Gesundheit first!), new mothers with their babies. They clowned at a prison for teenage boys, a Mother Theresa facility for homeless men and abandoned children; with teens and adults on a spinal cord injury unit; and in remote shanty towns, all dust and desert and dirty.
The poor in Lima are very poor. More than 50% of the population is below the poverty line, 18% are in extreme poverty. Water in these neighborhoods must be trucked in. Many families have no electricity. Mothers work, fathers drink, children are abused. Some people who work closely with children in one slum on the outskirts of Lima estimated that 50% of the little girls we were clowning with had been sexually abused by fathers. These same little sweethearts we were dancing with, skipping and running with, swinging, hugging, playing, laughing, sharing.
At the end of the trip, the teens had much to say about the trip: "Best week of my life," "the trip changed my life," "It felt great to be able to give and receive love with these people," "My eyes are opened," "My heart is so full right now," "I'm a better person now," "I want to make a difference," "I want to help." Many spoke through tears of deep emotion. We were delighted and moved that the young people responded as they did to this immersion in service, this experience of care, of love in action. We left $1000 with Bola Roja to buy fabric, needles, thread, yarn and art supplies for the girls of Santa Margarita Youth Center in Lima.
After the meal was finished, we all went to the central courtyard where plastic chairs had been set along one side. The girls were to present a program. Nervous giggling from behind a door. Faces peering around the corner. A young woman, Meliza Valiente Luna (Meliza Brave Moon), her hair tied up around a balloon, begins to speak. Our friend Catherine Murphey translates.
Good afternoon, beloved members of Bola Roja. Before we begin the artistic performance that we prepared for you with much love, we would like to welcome you once more. Your last visit was so wonderful for us. It filled us with joy and happiness. We were so glad to smile and laugh and to forget for a few moments the sadness that we feel without our freedom.
I would like you to know one thing, which is very important for all of us: the afternoon you shared with us will never end. We will carry you in our minds and our hearts forever, and will continue feeling happy when we remember it. We will remember the surprise, the smiles and even the fear we felt when we first saw you! But we will remember it with love because it was something beautiful and unforgettable. And now we feel happy to have you here once more to share a bit of your enormous joy. Thank you all for being here with us.
Applause ... astonishment ... tears ... cheers ... She was amazing ... poised ... intelligent ... she set the tone for what happened next. Another young woman recited a poem she had written, celebrating women: Woman, the strength, courage, gentleness, compassion, virtue, and sadness of Woman in a world of men, in a world of poverty injustice and despair. Shy and smiling, she acknowledges our applause and cheers. Next was a group of eight girls, in dresses they had made themselves, in a traditional dance. After their curtain call, they invited us all to dance with them. Then a group of three performed a theatrical piece, again honoring (at times tearfully) their mothers, their teachers, their dreams (one to be a teacher; another a mother; the last a businesswoman, as she mimed selling to the clowns, a dozen clowns crowded towards her, miming aggressively buying her wares). Then another traditional dance, different dancers and costumes, followed by a big dance again.
Finally, the warden spoke, thanking everyone for this beautiful day and honoring her girls, who, she said were as family to her. Patch, who was still feeling the effects of dysentery, rose from lying on the floor, to speak. He spoke of our gratitude for the time we shared together, and honored these young women for their womanhood, their struggles in this world and for their essential wonderfulness. He pledged to continue to work to make such prisons unnecessary, to create more just societies. We danced then and kept dancing till the last tearful goodbyes. Email addresses, phone numbers, hugs, kisses were exchanged. Then the door closed, the lock clicked, and we were outside.
If you would like more information about how to support the girls at the Santa Margarita Youth Center in Lima, or about clown trips, contact John Glick at jawkneemail@comcast.net [1].
Links:
[1] mailto:jawkneemail@comcast.net