Esta es mi mano.

We are housing a hot commodity in Tres Pisos right now, known in these parts as "Monopolio." The neighborhood kids ring our doorbell multiple times a day to ask if they can play it. Since it belongs to the organization, we only lend it out to our participants; Ana and Idania who live across the street or Milagro who lives next door. Milagro just turned seven earlier this year, and was finally able to join the Mariposas. She has the kind of smile that can make you forget all your problems in an instant and eyes for days.

Milagro has also been hanging out before her bedtime with Mady and me, which I enjoy very much because I don't get many chances to spend time with the Mariposas. Milagro is always giggling at me so it's hard to tell if she thinks I'm absolutely nuts or if she actually likes the jokes I make. I have a feeling its the first one, but nonetheless I enjoy her company because she makes me feel like I'm very funny. A side note: her monopoly rules crack me up.

Running the show

"You get nine 500s and fifteen 20s, and that's all."

Whoever lands on Vermont Avenue or New York Avenue not only will have to pay an absurd amount in rent, but they will need a special vehicle to squeeze between all those houses and hotels blocking the way

This past week, Milagro has been telling any of her friends who will listen, "Esta es mi mano! Aquí." (This is my hand! Right here) And then places her hand right on top of her tiny green handprint at the bottom right of our new mural. This repeated action, as well as seeing some other girls do the same thing on activity night, has made me realize that this fun painting project to brighten up our first floor actually holds some greater importance for these girls. It's a representation that they belong, and that they are crucial to the whole, for there would be an uncomfortable gap if their hand were missing. Some of these girls are physically abused in their homes, some don't have any supportive or admirable adult figures in their lives, many parents are absent, and it's near impossible for a child to feel significant in those kinds of situations. I have struggled with how to make these girls know that they are so important with more than just telling them because words only say so much. With the mural, they are able to physically see their own mark, and hopefully they know that it's important, and that is so important to me too--the project turned out to be more than I ever could have hoped for.

And on top of that, the fiesta on Tuesday was a blast. We had a piñata which lasted all of 10 minutes before Lupe smashed it open and everyone hit the floor to fight over the fallen goodies. Afterwards, DJ Techo pumped up the music and Helen hit the lights to set the mood and I felt like I was back at a middle school dance EXCEPT for the fact that no one waited an uncomfortable amount of time to be the awkward first person on the dance floor. Evvvveryone was dancing with no hint of embarrassment whatsoever, and those girls know how to move! I was even shy at first, embarrassed by my terrible white girl moves, but soon enough I was thrown in the center of a giant circle of Estrellas and egged on to break it down for them. I wore jeans for one of the first times since I've been down here, and my Estrellas gave me millions of compliments...maybe they're really sick of seeing my chicken legs every day? I was covered in sweat after 5 minutes, and immediately regretted my decision to wear jeans but enjoyed feeling fashionable for once. I enjoyed all of it; I thought back to the painful awkwardness of being 13 and 14 at "dances" and just relished in this culture instead--the joy, the natural ability, and the complete lack of self-consciousness.

At the end of the night I was able to show my video, despite some initial technical difficulties, and for the first time in awhile the night was a 100% success. It felt good.


Link for my video is on its way!


Amor, Paz, y Fútbol

KPope