Just as I started to write this, a cat mysteriously entered the cafeteria where I sit alone at a table and chair using the happily unexpected wifi connection at this Christian school for kids and young adults, many with various disabilities. We’re staying here for three days - two workshops a day and a show tomorrow. I’ve barely left the compound, so an unlikely place feels strangely like home to me.
Today was one of my favorite workshops. I was teaching a bunch of boys how to juggle and I noticed a young woman sitting on a bench holding a single juggling ball in her hand but not doing anything with it. I didn't notice at first that she had crutches and leg braces and I asked if she wanted to learn to juggle. She nodded and I started teaching her, eventually sitting down in a chair so as to demonstrate the skill from a similar position as her. I’ve noticed here that people that can't walk can potentially pick up juggling even faster because they probably compensate for a lot of things with their upper body. I taught a guy in a wheel chair how to juggle yesterday, and I’ve never seen someone get it so fast, it was amazing really.
Anyway, I had this great interaction with Rosa, the young woman I was teaching to juggle. I asked her what she was studying and she said computers, then I asked her what kind of job she wanted and she seemed kind of ashamed. When I pressed her a bit she finally said secretary. I told her that I used to work an office job that I liked a lot because I liked to organize things, and that instead of smoking breaks I would take juggling breaks which is actually really good for your hands and arms which can get sore or even injured from typing all the time. We developed a really wonderful connection through all of this but, as she continued to learn how to juggle, I realized the balls kept hitting her friend sitting next to her. I also noticed her friend was very quiet and withdrawn and eventually it occurred to me that she was blind. Her name was Katia, and she had just had her face painted by Savannah. I told her how beautiful the stars on her face were. She smiled shyly, but quickly withdrew again. I realized that the situation for her was not so good. It was loud and crazy in that room with music on the stereo, kids banging drums, shaking rattles, and the occasional piercing screech whenever one of the kids got a hold of this plastic flute (that is now safely tucked away in my bag, never to come out during workshops again), and on top of all this, she was occasionally getting hit with juggling balls because she was sitting next to Rosa.
I decide to turn the music on the stereo down and wait for a bit of a lull in the kid generated "music", and then I pulled out my harmonica and played a little bit for Katia and asked her if she had ever heard such music before. She said no, but when I asked her if she'd like to try she gave me another shy smile. I handed her the harmonica and explained how to play, having to constantly ask for the correct Spanish word to "breathe in" because I can never remember it. It took her a bit to get it, but then she was mesmerized by it and played for probably 20 minutes or so, lost in a world of music she was creating, unfazed by the clamor of workshops and the occasional juggling ball dropping in her lap.
It was a sweet moment that I feel fortunate to have shared with those two young women, and it's yet another moment that could only exist because of this tour. In times like these I definitely feel like it's all worth it.
No comments:
Post a Comment