The Magic Bus
by Gary Graham
It seemed a little otherworldly: it was ten o’clock in the
morning and I was sitting alone in my truck, queued up with
several other vehicles along a street in Agua Prieta, Mexico,
waiting my turn to make my way through the border inspection
station and enter into the United States. The oddest thing about
the scene was that I was sitting there at a dead stop, grinning
like a Cheshire cat, and occasionally emitting an audible laugh…
loud enough at least to elicit “that look” from a couple in the
car next to me. You know that look; the one that you see when
someone comes upon an unfortunate street person who is embroiled
in a heated debate with someone… although no one else is there…
that you can see! But there I sat, moving along with the flow of
vehicles, smiling and laughing as memories of events of the last
three days popped into my head… some as fleeting recollections,
and others as entire vignettes.
As my turn finally came to pull up to the inspection station, I
was asked to show what was in my truck, and while engaged in
idle Border patrol agent-to-tourist banter the agent asked me
how my visit had been. My response was, “I have had a hell of a
time,” actually understating my feelings. As I drove through the
turnstile and found my way to the highway headed north, the
memories again began to unfold. Passing through Douglas I could
see the Gadsden Hotel towering above the town skyline, and
reflected that it was there on Friday that we had met with a
young woman who would take us into Mexico and on to our
adventure.
Our adventure was originally planned as a visit to an orphanage
in Agua Prieta to do some volunteer work and to introduce the
children to yoga, and it had started early Friday morning as a
group of yoga friends met in Phoenix, including some who had
come from LA, Seattle and Georgia. Setting out in caravan the
group stopped in Tucson and the contingent swelled to twelve,
and the journey commenced. The drive to Douglas took us south
past Benson, through the sleepy and serene settlement of St.
David nestled in a cottonwood creek, to Tombstone and up the
verdant valley leading to Bisbee and the open pit mine. Rolling
out of Bisbee the clouds provided a brief respite of rain, and
across the valley floor could be seen a tremendous rainstorm
blanketing the Chiracauha Mountains.
Entering Douglas we spotted the Gadsden Hotel and went inside,
where we met our young guide Nohemi, a truly intriguing young
woman. Nohemi is a bright and happy 21 year old who suffered
incredible disfigurement as a child in a near-fatal fire,
leaving her with no hands, sight in only one eye and massive
burn damage. The story of Nohemi is its own miracle, including
that a plastic surgeon in La Jolla California has volunteered
extensive time and performed 3 surgeries for her to date, and
the foundation that supports the orphanage where we were going
supports her and her rehabilitation efforts. More amazing is
that despite her disabilities, she is infectiously upbeat, was
our driver the entire time, skips rope and is an accomplished
painter. Once we had been introduced we all followed Nohemi in
her Blazer to the border and into Mexico, sans any inspections:
Nohemi waved and the agents waved back, motioning us all through
to follow her.
La Divina Providencia
Following Nohemi we quickly turned off of the paved street onto
a series of dirt roads lined by block and adobe houses that
wound through the town. At the outskirts we traveled down
another road across a stream and through open fields, past a
large structure with a sign AQUA MUNDO…yup..’water world’ and
into the country side, turning off on to a road that ran along
the railroad tracks up to a fenced compound, our destination.
Inside the gates we pulled up and could read on the hand-painted
sign of a large white school bus, ASILO CASA HOGAR ‘LA DIVINA
PROVIDENCIA’: this 14 acre property is known in English as the
La Divina Providencia Children’s Shelter & Senior Citizen’s
Facility, and currently houses 34 young girls who have been
orphaned, deserted or who’s families can not provide adequately
for them, and 24 senior citizens who’s families can not care for
their needs. Housing is provided for these young and old in
red-brick buildings on the grounds, which also includes a
‘Volunteers in Residence’ 11-room dormitory and a newly built
and soon-to-be-opened “safe house” that will accommodate up to
ten young women who have passed the Children’s Shelter age limit
of 15, but have no place safe to go. This latter facility is
named ‘Nancy’s House’, in memorial to a young graduate of the
Shelter who lost her life when she was forced into a
relationship with an older, abusive man because of limited other
options upon leaving the Shelter.
The acclaimed cultural anthropologist Angeles Arrien has stated
that you can learn much about a society and culture by the way
they treat their children and the elderly: clearly La Divina
Providencia is evidence that the culture which made such a place
possible is one of compassion and hope, and a society that is
willing to care for its most needy and vulnerable members. The
principal support of the Shelter, and the ‘host of angels’ who
oversee the support, comes from and through the Rancho Feliz
Charitable Foundation, Inc., a philanthropic effort founded in
1987 that has a number of projects and programs they support in
Mexico. Intriguingly the Rancho Feliz goal is to work and
alleviate both sides of the poverty equation—from the material
poverty in Mexico to the purpose poverty found in the United
States. By its own description, Rancho Feliz is not a welfare
program, but instead focuses on, “the democratic re-distribution
of opportunity.”
Evening Vespers
Upon our arrival at the Shelter we were met by Alejandro
Laureano, the Exchange Program Coordinator for Rancho Feliz, who
welcomed us all and showed us to our dormitory quarters. After
choosing up suitemates for the 3-to-a room with bunk-beds
accommodations, we began unpacking, noting as we walked around
the campus a beautiful rainbow to the east directly over the
town of Agua Prieta: a good omen for sure. We were also joined
by our 13th member, an executive on the Board of Directors of
Rancho Feliz, saving us from the ignominy that would have
probably befallen us had we remained at 12… and inevitable
‘Dirty Dozen’ sobriquet. Once our gear was stored we convened in
the meeting hall and the fun began.
Fun is certainly in the eye of the beholder, but our first group
activity turned out to be a kick. As we had entered the meeting
hall we had seen stacks of boxes and varied food supplies lining
the hallways of the building. As it turned out, these were
provisions that had been purchased and donated by the Rancho
Feliz organization, and our first task was to separate and bag
up these food items for delivery and distribution to needy
families in town. Each bag would contain one sack each of beans,
flower, rice and sugar, a bottle of cooking oil and a packet of
noodles. Each bag would also be accompanied by a large bag of
cereal. After a rough start we discovered a disc player and put
on some tunes. Soon thereafter, to an eclectic mix that included
Eva Cassidy, Norah Jones, the Beachboys and the Pointer Sisters,
we found our rhythm and soon had an assembly line operating that
made short work of the project, eventuating a total of 350
individual bags filled, tied and ready for delivery. Having
worked up a good appetite, we then put together a communal
dinner, ate, laughed and enjoyed the good company before
trailing off one by one to our rooms for the night.
Saturday Showers
As we gathered in the main meeting room and had breakfast
together on Saturday morning, the skies overhead were dark and
ominous, suggesting rain was definitely on the way. Alejandro
arrived and suggested that the weather would not be conducive to
our two “manual labor” projects that had been planned, painting
of an elementary school and pouring a concrete floor in a local
home. With those plans on hold, it was decided to go ahead and
distribute the food bagged the preceding evening, so soon we
were engaged in the old ‘fire bucket brigade’, loading all the
bags into the back of a pickup truck and the school bus,
assisted by several high school students: seems Alejandro also
teaches at the high school and the extra hands were his students
who wanted to help. Once the two vehicles were loaded they were
boarded and headed out.
The trip in to town included two separate stops in different
neighborhoods, where upon arrival the vehicles were met by
people lined up waiting. Each person in line gave a ticket to
one of the two high school students and was then given one bag
of the 6 items and one bag of cereal; many of the children held
and hugged the bags of cereal with both arms. Unfortunately,
even after giving out 350 parcels, approximately 20 families
were still in line, waiting. There was some comic relief to this
otherwise solemn activity, as one young pre-teen boy kept
insisting he was 25 years old and that he was therefore entitled
to a bag of cereal. He even went so far as to tell one of the
volunteers that his small stature was due to a heart condition,
and that his wife was on family business in Tucson. When these
ploys failed he was seen circling about the vehicles, trying to
find a way to get to the cereal.
The pathos in this scene was not lost on those distributing the
food. This young man was, like all of those who received the
food, truly needy, yet the emotions that ran through the
volunteers distributing the food was eerily ambivalent. There
were simultaneous sensations of being glad and sad, the latter
for the plight of those standing in line to receive the gifts,
and the former by the chance to provide at least some
assistance. For some there were even other, more troubling
feelings; some had a sense of gratitude for the good fortune of
their own lives, mixed with an almost guilty sense of abundance
of daily life at home juxtaposed to the struggles of those whose
eyes they met accepting the gifts. For a few there was even a
sense of sorrow, in part from an edginess in their gut that
seemed tantamount to a condescending feeling. On whole the
reaction of the group to the experience was eye and heart
opening, having seen the need in the faces of the people and
especially the children, and having felt the roller-coaster of
emotions that swept through ones being.
Returning
to the Shelter a good lunch and Yoga Practice session were both
much welcomed and rejuvenating. After recharging our batteries,
the group tackled the pre-sorting and bagging of clothing items
that had been donated, creating 80 family bags. As the rains
continued intermittently, we again brigaded and loaded all the
clothing bags in to the bus and headed back downtown. On this
trip Alejandro directed the bus to individual houses and the
clothing was distributed directly to families. When all the
clothing had been handed out the group returned to the Shelter
and rested up for the evening’s planned event, which we were
told had grown from the original idea of a small, intimate
sharing of yoga. Still a little in the dark we rested and in
late afternoon again boarded our bus and headed into the heart
of the city, pulling up across the street from the local high
school gymnasium. As we entered the gym we were handed printed
programs which, much to our surprise, were entitled la
Convencion Yogi De Agua Prieta, Centro Tibetano de Yoga
“Samadhi” y Asociacion Yogi “Anusara”. It was at this point that
we realized that we were about to take part in a formal yoga
convention.
Going
with the flow we entered the gym as the evenings festivities
began, kicked off by 8 young girls in a dance routine, followed
by two solo performances. The first solo was by a young girl in
a green chiffon dress who walked to center court and proceeded
to belt out a song, displaying a hell of a set of pipes. The
second performer also sang, but was actually a dancer first: she
had Selena’s slide step move down to a T. At that point the
emcee introduced Desiree Rumbaugh for our presentation on
Anusara yoga; Des gave the microphone to Lupe, who presented a
brief description of the basics of yoga in ones life directly in
Spanish. Lupe then led our group on the gym floor in a series of
asanas, and when she had completed her remarks she invited
everyone in the audience to join the group on the floor to give
yoga a try. At that point the energy clicked in, and although
there were only @50 people in the gym, almost all joined in,
gathering in small groups with different members of our
entourage and joyfully trying varied poses; there was
significant enthusiasm and joy in the air, as people of all ages
stretched, tried varied poses, laughed and enjoyed the
interaction.
After
several minutes of free form yoga fun, our portion of the
presentation was completed and the emcee introduced Swami
Premananda, a local man attempting to establish a yoga center in
the town. The presentation by Swami Premananda and his students
consisted of speeches and testimonials on the benefits of yoga.
At the completion of these oral presentations the formal program
of the evening drew to a close, and our group returned to our
bus and headed back through town and on to the Shelter. Upon
arrival everyone said their good-nights, then within a few
minutes ended up congregating in the kitchen of the main meeting
hall for a bed-time snack, and discussion of the evenings
events, differences in the goals of our group and Swami
Premananda and possible ways to improve on the presentation at
the second ‘Convencion’ scheduled for Sunday night. Slowly
everyone drifted off to retire and rest up for the next days
events.
The 7th Day
Sunday dawned clear and bright, foretelling a warm day, and over
breakfast Alejandro offered that the weather was right to tackle
our two labor-intensive tasks… so no rest on this 7ty day. At
that news we split up into 3 crews: one crew would be painters,
one crew would mix and pour concrete and one crew led by Desiree
and Lupe would go to meet with the Swami to try to work out a
smoother interaction of the two programs in the coming evening’s
yoga presentation. As the three groups piled into vehicles and
headed out for their respective destinations, we were all
witness to a Quentin-Tarentino-like scene. Upon entering the
road that led back past the water park, we were surprised to see
approximately 12 Mexican Army soldiers, all in field dress with
shoulder-slung M16s, encircling a huge field adjacent to the
water park. Driving further we were able to see more soldiers in
the center of the field, unloading “bales” of some ilk from the
back end of a large stake truck, building what appeared to be a
pyre on a huge bed of ashes. We soon realized that what we were
seeing was a marijuana seizure being destroyed… not what one
typically sees on a Sunday spin… so we drove on to our three
destinations.
The
yoga envoys headed back in to town and met with the Swami
Premananda, however would later report that their attempts of
talk about invigorating the presentation and engaging more
people directly in the simple joy of the practice were not well
received. Perhaps it is better to explain that it became more
evident in those discussions that the Swami viewed the
presentations being given more as advertisements for his
fledging efforts to establish a yoga studio in the town,
therefore his interests were more literal and business driven.
By contrast our groups motives were merely to show some of the
physical attributes of yoga and to offer people the chance to
experience and hopefully be touched by the joy the practice can
provide. The yoga crew came away from their meeting still
uncertain of how the show would unfold.
While the above was occurring, the painting crew had a much more
successful morning. Nohemi drove the crew to an elementary
school. There the painters discovered that their task was a
‘facelift’, updating a drab green color of the buildings to a
new pink, with rust colored trim. After a mighty struggle to
open the paint cans, will-power prevailed and the gang was able
to re-paint most of the exterior and flower-beds, leaving a
small job for another day, and another crew.
Much
like the painters, the concrete crew members invested some real
‘sweat equity’ in their project. 4 of our group accompanied
Alejandro into an area of the city known as the ‘Ladrillo
District’, a dusty, hard-scrabble settlement of homes on the
edge of the city where most of the homes were made from bricks,
ladrillos, or varied combinations of block, adobe and brick. Our
job was to pour a floor in a house recently purchased by a woman
who 4 years earlier had left her three daughter, then 9, 7 and
3, at the La Divina Shelter, and an infant son with relatives,
to work in the US to make money to support them and someday to
return for them. She had recently returned to Mexico and
procured a lot and friends were helping her build a home. As we
arrived 4 local teenaged boys, one who worked at La Divina at
nights, joined us and together we mixed gravel, sand and cement
and hauled and poured concrete for 3 hours. While we were there
the woman and her 3 daughters came, excited by the prospect of a
new place together: it was sweet to watch as during the morning
the mother and each of the daughters, when they thought no one
was looking, would scoop up a shovel full of sand or gravel to
add to our piles... doing their part to build their house.
By one o’clock all three crews had returned to the Shelter and
shared their experiences over lunch. After lunch there was a
short Yoga Practice and rest period. Sunday was also family day
at the Shelter and several families were on campus visiting. In
mid afternoon we again boarded our bus for the trip downtown to
the yoga ‘Convencion’, however on this trip we were joined by 12
girls from the Shelter, aged 8 to 10, who definitely enlivened
the trip. When we reached the town center and gym we entered and
shortly commenced the ‘second show’, in front of another 50 or
so people, although this one was started without benefit of the
two young singer/entertainers. In this “show” Lupe again spoke
and led the members of our group in a demonstration of varied
poses. Swami Premananda then spoke, having eliminated the
testimonials from the previous night, and invited everyone down
to the floor. He then led the entire group through a simulated
practice. When that was completed… the real fun began. Freed
from the restraints of formality the crowd once again “got in to
it” and joyously moved around dancing, laughing, trying poses
with the help of our group members and having a rocking and
raucous good time.
At
one point one of our group, Mark, a tall and talented man, was
surrounded by young boys trying to match his every move and
pose: it brought to mind ‘Gulliver and the little people.’ After
too short a time the evening’s formal program was brought to an
end, and the energy level of the place was sky high. Exiting the
gym that energy carried over and, spying the town square which
was filled with people, booths and music, we all, adults and
kids alike, headed over and joined the revelry. It was truly a
fiesta atmosphere, and several of our group got ‘happy feet’
from the heavy salsa beat of the music and took to the center of
the square and started dancing… and kept dancing, in fact
dancing until they wore themselves out. Once the dance ‘troupe’
was done, and folks had released and unwound, it seemed fitting
to have a night cap and most of the group, by this time ‘kids’
of all ages, headed to get some ice cream before returning to
the bus for the ride home.
The Magic Bus
Driving back to the Shelter from the town square, through the
darkened city streets and then across the open fields, turned
out to be one of the trips most electrigying and exciting times.
Whether it was because of the evenings yoga or the sugar from
the ice cream, the dozen young girls who were in our company
were “on”! For starters, all 12 at once were talking…, yelling
actually … back and forth, some from the front to the back of
the bus. Then they began to sing, including a couple of songs
with the call-chorus line that got louder with each verse. As
the decibels rose, some of our group suggested they be ‘mas
ablande’…softer... to which they seemed to sing louder.
Alejandro even tried his hand, at one point yelling out “QUIETE”:
even in the dark you could see the twinkle in the eyes of
several of the girls as they not only kept singing… but began to
clap, until the whole group was singing and clapping in unison,
even getting Lupe hooked and singing along. What was magical was
the pure innocence, unbridled enthusiasm and passion of a child
that these young girls were expressing. They were simply,
stunningly being free spirits, and it was intoxicating. When we
finally reached the Shelter and were leaving the bus many of the
girls gave hugs to group members and then, like a swarm of bees,
took off running toward their rooms, laughing all the way. As
they rounded the corner of the dorm building and disappeared
from sight, it was like the tail of a comet as the glow from
them faded slowly behind them. Falling asleep that night, what
filled our heads were visions of sparkling eyes and laughing
faces… better than sugar plums dancing any day.
Adios and Gracias
As
we sat together in the meeting hall for the last time… this
trip… having breakfast and coffee prior to our departure,
Alejandro was asked how he would ‘rate’ our group. He said we
were productive, and funny: not funny as in ‘odd’, but in the
sense of being fun loving. He then laughingly said certainly we
were the first of the volunteers he’d had come to La Divina who
had danced in the square. In fact, he noted we were the first
that had actually wanted to join in with the townspeople and
interact directly… commenting other groups were more cautious…
and then he thanked us for “seeing my people as they really
are.” Our collective response was that the thanks went from us
to him, for his hospitality and having given us all the chance
to share of our time and to look inside our own hearts.
With those thoughts in mind we finished our breakfast and clean
up, left the remaining food stuffs and loaded up our vehicles,
then bid adios to Alejandro and the Shelter. We slowly drove
out, following Nohemi in caravan as we had on our arrival, for
one last drive back along the railroad tracks, past the water
works, along the dirt roads lined with adobe and brick homes,
into and through the town and down a paved side street next to a
ten foot high metal mesh fence. We slowed and pulled into one of
three lines to wait our turn to cross back over the border, each
of us a little different than when we entered Mexico three days
past. As I pulled into line I couldn’t help but smile, and as I
looked to my right the man sitting in the truck next to me gave
me that look… and I just nodded and grinned.
