LOKA HUMANA social outreach theater: 2010

HAITI: Les Cayes

Finally posting some of my thoughts from the latter half of our journey -- workshops and shows in Les Cayes.

After ten days in the Grande Goave area, we traveled down to the south coast to the town of Les Cayes, where we worked with children in adults in the slum of Cite Delma.

This is an extremely poor area, where the people do not have enough to eat (or drink). Outstretched hands greet us throughout our visits with accompanying pleadings of "M'gran gou, m'gran soif" (I'm hungry, I'm thirsty) and "What do you have for me, do you have something for me?" It's difficult to know what to do. We do bring something... but it's not food or clothing, it's not material goods. We bring food for the spirit. This is good, too, and something very much needed, but it's not enough. It's something I grapple with.

We offer joy, play, laughter, inspiration... Through our creative and exploratory and playful workshops, the young adults, and the children have the opportunity to inspire and empower themselves to see new possibilities for themselves and to envision moving beyond their current circumstances. But, still, they don't have the physical means.... They grapple with this as well. In the end, through feedback, we learn that yes, they feel uplifted and inspired and more hopeful, but there is frustration and discouragement still at the feeling of lack of prospects. Of course, in one week we are not going to change their entire world. We hope to sow a seed...

My first impression, however, as we arrive is one of joy and curiosity. I notice a marked difference in the spirit of the children. These children may be poor and hungry, but they have not been traumatized by the earthquake, which did not affect this area too much. As we drive through the narrow pathway between the houses and arrive at the community space, children are jumping up and down excitedly waving and reaching out there hands. I do not get the sense they are reaching out their hands in this instant to beg, but rather to touch and greet and connect with these foreign newcomers who might be offering something exciting, whether it be food for the soul or food for the tummy. As we play with the children, I notice there is definitely a need to connect, physically and emotionally. One girl in particular clings to me a lot, taking my hands, slipping her arm through mine, hugging and holding.

Our show with these kids is a great success. We decide, learning from our experience in Grande Goave, to include the adults we are working with more and we give them a chance to create and lead segments of the show. That way everyone is more actively involved. The 'formateurs' -- the trainers whom we are training and who will lead the ongoing play activities after we leave, together with adults from the neighborhood -- are so great! Full of enthusiasm, spirit and vision, and very creative and expressive!

We travel with all the children to perform our show in a small village in a remote area about an hour and a half drive away. A bus has been chartered to take us all there. The bus can't get into the slum housing area where the kids live and where we've been doing our activities, so we all walk together for twenty minutes along the narrow dirt pathway through the community out to the main road. The entire way the children and adults sing the camp song "Boom chicka boom" which we've taught them and which they really dig. Non-stop the whole way. There is such excitement!

After an hour or so drive, the bus stops and we all get off and take turns traveling in two pick-up trucks the rest of the way. The road to the village is so rough and narrow, the bus can't get through. And when I say it's a bumpy road, that's an understatement! It takes the truck twenty minutes to negotiate this terrain, which can hardly be termed a road at all.

Finally, we have all arrived and it's time to do the show. The community is all gathered under a roofed open-air community space, ready and waiting. Afterward, a dance party ensues. I note with interest that the villagers are continuing the party on their own, oblivious to our presence or departure. Usually, in my experience, everyone follows us out with curiosity to see what else we might do or to see us off. But, clearly, a dance party takes precedence over anything else!

I dance, too, for a bit and invite a girl standing by watching to join me. An adult pushes her towards me and she runs away. Of course, that's too scary, don't make her, let her take her time to get comfortable and connect with me, I'm thinking. She comes back and moves closer to me, I take a step towards her, and she runs off again! I see her again a little later as I stand somewhere else in the crowd; she approaches me, I look at her, and she immediately runs off... and then she sneaks back, and we start again, a back and forth dance of approach run away approach run away. At this point, she's smiling and laughing. This becomes a game between us, which goes on for the next half hour or hour!

In meantime, Selena and some of the girls have started jumping rope out by the road, and a big crowd gathers. As I look on, a group of elderly women approach me. They ask me "what do you have for me, what do you have to give me?" I say, "I have given it to you -- what I bring is joy and laughter!" "Did you enjoy the show?" Oh ok! Yes, yes, thank you. After a while, they ask again "do you have anything for us?" One lady asks me for my dress that I am wearing (literally, the shirt off my back). This is funny, but also sad.

On the way back, the children are so revved up, they sing the entire way. For an hour and a half! "I said a boom chicka boom!" And all kinds of songs of their own that they know: "Galloper galloper! Pedaler pedaler!" and "Il etait un elephant..." etc.

HAITI: The tent camps

Petit Paradis

Arriving at one displacement camp, ironically called “Little Paradise”, I immediately jump out of the tap-tap and start goofing around with the kids and adults gathered around. Usually my play is met with amused curiosity or joyful excitement. The experience here is palpably different. I feel it and realize I need to back off a bit, and proceed more gently. The kids (and adults) stare at me with what appears to be apprehension or reserve. They are wary and on guard, not quite sure what to make of our presence. Who are we and what are we about?

I wonder whether they are a bit jaded, having been so inundated with foreign aid workers that they assume we are just another bunch—and what are we bringing them and what do we want now… The dynamic I sense at the tent camp becomes even more apparent contrasted by the market place we visit the following day – where people are not displaced but live in their regular homes and the market is a normal gathering place for the community. There the atmosphere is much more relaxed and open, the adults are more approachable and easier to connect with, and the children are excited and ready to receive our performance. I realize that in the tent camp, people truly have lost their bearings—their homes, their sense of security, perhaps their sense of self. They are displaced and traumatized.

Deciding to go easy, I sit down on a bench and gently invite a child to come sit next to me. Finally, one of them does, and then the others follow. I give them each a flower. (I happened to have them -- right before leaving to drive over to the tent camp, Guinelda -- one of the girls performing with us -- suddenly ran over to a bush and picked a bouquet of pink flowers which she handed to each of us clowns.) See, I’m friendly and sweet, I’m here to play with you. Little by little I start to goof it up again. After all, I can’t help myself! I’m a goof, that’s what I do!

But, boy, it’s hard. The audience has started to gather. And they’re not having any of it. It’s a tough crowd. I feel that the kids are tired, too; we all start off the show with rather low energy. But then things pick up! Once the people see what we’re really about – we're here to give you entertainment, fun and laughter – they get into it, and by the end they really appreciate the show and our presence. Of course, the juggling and acrobatics are huge hits, bringing great applause.

After the performance, we stay and mingle a bit. I like to talk to the kids who have been watching and ask them how they liked the show, play a little, make a closer connection. A woman comes up to me with her sick child. She points to his hair, which has a reddish tint – a sign of malnutrition. She asks for medical help. They hear the “Without Borders” and they think we are Doctors. I explain to her that we’re Clowns Without Borders, we offer play and laughter…. I try to point her to someone she can talk to for possible assistance.

I wonder how much of a difference we have made; whether we have made any difference at all in these people’s lives. Did they get anything out of our visit, did we help in any way, did we offer any relief? Sometimes, I wonder....
When confronted with the reality of these people's hardships. They do need food, shelter, medical help. We can’t give them that.

Yet, humans are more than just their physical being. In the aftermath of a crisis, people need a chance to restore their sense of humanity, and their sense of community. What is it to be human? The clown plays with the gamut of human emotion and experience – love, loss, fear, joy, desire, pride, triumph and failure – often taking it to extremes – and we laugh. Partly, because we recognize ourselves. Offering a performance like this is a chance for people to come together as a community in a shared experience – a shared experience that is positive and uplifting – in the case of clown and circus, an experience of laughter and joy, surprise and awe. And, hopefully, it’s a chance to forget at least for a moment their daily hardships. And to feel connected to being human.

* * * * *

Darbonne camp

Our first show was in the Darbonne tent camp. The field at the entrance of the camp, where we had planned to perform, had turned into a swamp from all the rain the day before, so we venture into the midst of the camp and set up the show in another clearing. As we wander past the tents, we realize how little privacy there is for the people who live here. Left and right, people are in the midst of washing themselves, or their clothes, or dishes, tending to their domestic and private affairs, while we walk by. We wonder whether perhaps we are treading on someone’s private space, perhaps there are designated paths one ought to stick to? No, there simply is no privacy. We walk right by a man, naked, pouring a bucket of water over himself. A woman sitting in front of her tent watches us as we pass. They do not seem bothered by our trudging by. But I don't know.

A man approaches me and urgently asks me when we will do something for the children, and what will we do, the children need activities, creative stimulation, on a regular basis. I assure him that, yes, that is exactly what we are here for, and Terre des Hommes will be offering a regular program of activities at the play center.

My clown mates call my name to come get ready for the show, and as I walk in their direction I hear my name called repeatedly – the inhabitants of the camp have picked up on my name and are amusing themselves by playing with it. This makes me laugh. I see we've got a bunch of clowns already in the camp!

People start to gather, and I tell a group of young women and girls that we are doing a show and please come see, we’re all going to have fun together, and sing and dance! On est la pour vous amuser!

By the time the show has begun, an audience of about 200 has gathered around on all sides. It’s by now 11am and the sun is blasting down on us, it's extremely hot. Two minutes into the show I am already exhausted! But adrenalin keeps me going! It's so exciting to be here and share some joy!