Just a brief encounter

     For just over two hours, I was able to see some women I hadn’t seen for quite some time.  Through a lot of challenges and hard work on their part and on my friend Sarah’s and mine, they wormed their way right into my heart.

     Most Fridays I find myself in a plain, drab classroom teaching English with a number of students who look like they’d rather be anyplace else but there.  There’s always one or two that have that glimmer in their eyes, helping console me that I might now be wasting my efforts and time completely. 

     I was thrilled to have last Friday off, and jumped at the invitation by friends from Centro Esperanza to accompany them to a closing presentation in the impoverished, outer-lying city district of San Borja.  As I alit from the flimsy, yellow, Tico taxi, I was greeted with smiles, kisses and hugs.  Cheerful chatter filled the air as the women and I caught up on one another’s lives, as we rushed around trying to get the final touches taken care of like hanging a sheet over a window, carrying plastic stools to the right home, and taping paper with masking tape to the walk to make it white for a PowerPoint presentation.  The cord for the projector was missing from its bag, but people ran to their homes to look and about five minutes later, a young girl appeared with just the cable that we needed. 

     My heart swelled with pride as the women presented the project they’d been involved in over the past few months raising ducks and guinea pigs.  Both animals reproduce quickly and can be sold for a profit to restaurants or in the markets and can therefore increase a woman’s power and status in her household as she becomes a financial contributor.  Women, who had sat on rocks in the dirt with Sarah and me a year and a half ago, too shy and beaten down to share their say more than a simple greeting to one another or us, let alone give their opinions or venture to dream, stood with timid grins before an audience of about 40 people and gave their testimonies of their experiences raising small animals.  

     I six year old child slipped through the door.  “Are you Señorita Abril?” she asked me as she scooted onto my lap.  “I am,” I replied with a smile.  Her face reflected mine, she giggled and then snuggled up against me. 

     With the end of the presentation and speeches, came the traditional lunch and pictures galore.  Everyone wanted their picture taken and we happily obliged.  The women, having heard that I might go, thoughtfully prepared sandwiches for Sarah and me without meat.  How they even seemed to remember and think of the smallest details where resources are scarce and work is great, is beyond me, but I was touched.  

     As evening drew near, we kissed good-bye, stepped out into the dirt street, let the coastal wind chill our skin, and made our way through the village to a paved road where we went our separate ways boarding Combis and returning to our normal lives taking a little more of San Borja with us and leaving a little more of ourselves behind.