In Ayapan, Guatemala:
Heads peaked out of each of the classrooms of the school, watching as the gringos* got out of the van.
It wasn’t their first time seeing gringos, but even so, they hadn’t seen gringos very often. It wasn’t until recently in the past year that the village started allowing missionaries to come in.
And maybe we weren’t the first gringos that they had seen but this would be the first kids feeding program in the village.
A few of the kids came out of their classrooms, plastic bowls and cups clasped in their hands, watching as we set up the tables and put out the rice, beans, and tortillas. They still kept a healthy distance from us, silently observing.
I waved and flashed a smile at them, hoping to show them that I was a friendly gringa. Some waved back. Others would turn their backs and then looked over their shoulders at me, their big brown eyes unsure.
Finally, we were ready for them. At first they came to the table in small groups, pressing up against each other and eager for food. Then more of them came out from their classrooms and the line stretched farther and farther. They were mostly quiet, just a small murmur of conversation, as they waited in line for their food.
At first, they wouldn’t even make eye contact with us. Their eyes were on the ground or on the back of the head of the person in line in front of them. If they did make eye contact, they would quickly look down and shyly turn their face away.
As they came up to the table with food, they handed their bowls off to my fellow gringos. A serving of beans, followed by rice and then tortillas. Still not quite sure what to make of us, they hurried through the line, so fast that most of them missed the candy that we were handing out at the end of the line.
“Amiga, amiga!*” yelled Dorien, the candy bag hugged in her arms. The little girl she was shouting at kept going, making a beeline back to her classroom. “No! Come back!” Dorien shouted, waving the candy and forgetting for a moment that the girl didn’t understand English.
“Amiga!” I said, just as the girl passed me. I put out my hand and gently touched her on her arm. She turned around, her eyes wide as she looked at me and then at Dorien, who was motioning for her to come.
Her food wrapped tightly in her hands, she speed-walked back to Dorien. Dorien handed her the piece of candy, smiling friendly at her. The girl grabbed the candy and, after giving Dorien a quick, small smile she walked quickly away.
And that’s how most of the kids reacted to us in the beginning of that morning. Shy, unsure, and only a little responsive to us. But we worked hard to bring them out of their shell.
Throughout the line for food that had formed, my teammates intermixed themselves, trying to engage the kids. Some talked to them in Spanish, asking them their name, age, and favorite color. Others high-fived the kids or attempted to teach them new handshakes. Some of the kids participated, but most just stared at the gringos, ignored them completely, or shyly laughed at them.
I was charged with taking pictures. I stood near the front of the line and pointed my camera at them. As soon as they saw my camera they turned away from me and smooshed even closer into each other, hiding their faces in the back of the person in front of them. They whispered in each other’s ears and peaked at me just long enough to see if I still had the camera focused on them before they hid their faces again.
I still snapped pictures anyways. If I was quick enough, every so often I would catch a snapshot before any of the kids realized what I was doing. I caught one little boy, maybe four or five years old. He was sandwiched by the kids behind him pushing him into the kids in front of him. He was unsure of what the crazy gringa with the camera was doing and probably felt more than a little invaded by the other gringos that had just interrogated him and made him do high-fives. He attempted to take a quick peak at me. But I was quicker.
I tried to show him the picture but he hid his face from me.
I was starting to get a little nervous about how we were going to reach out to these kids, especially since they weren’t responding to us.
I shouldn’t have worried.
After all the kids went through the line, they sat outside of their classrooms and ate. Their stomachs getting mostly full, they didn’t seem to mind us as much as before. Still shy and quiet, they let us sit beside them as they ate and even told us their names when we asked.
“Como te llama?*” I asked one boy, who had orange paint smeared all over his face. Heaven only knows what kind of art project he was working on.
“Mmommay,” he responded, but his mouth was so full of food that I couldn’t tell what he had said.
“Hola,* Mmommay!” I said, covering my mouth so his name sounded muffled, just like when he had said it to me.
That made him and the girl next to him laugh. I smiled and then asked him what his name was after he had swallowed all of his food.
“Jose!” he responded, a crooked grin spread across his orange face.
“Mucho gusto,* Jose,” I responded, and his smile became wider.
And then it was time for recess. All of the kids put away their cups and plates and crowded the soccer field outside of the school. At first I wasn’t sure where to go, so I stood awkwardly by the classrooms. Soon the kids started a game of soccer and after wandering around for a little while, I decided to join.
Mad at myself for not putting on my tennis shoes on instead of my TOMS, I slipped and slided around the soccer field. A couple of times I kicked the ball and my shoe went flying away with it and I would have to hobble across the garbage littered field. The kids laughed, finding my antics hilarious. And the more I played with them, the less shy they became. They began to kick the ball to me more often, laughing when I made noises of frustration when I just missed the goal.
After a while of playing, they asked me my name.
“Neala,” I responded, putting my hands on my hips and pushing my hair out of my face. I seized the small pause in the game as an opportunity for me to try and catch my breath.
“Neawa?” they all said together, looking up at me with mischievous grins on their faces.
“Neala,” I said back, emphasizing the L.
“Neawa.”
“Neala.”
“Neawa.”
“Nea- oh, whatever. Yeah, Neawa.”
By that time they had already restarted the game and left me standing alone in the middle of the field, talking to myself. Throughout the Soccer field I heard my name being repeated by a dozen of little voices. I smiled. Still trying to catch my breath, I took a moment to look around the schoolyard and see what everyone else on team gringos was doing.
The first thing I noticed was a large group of kids all circled around something. Then I heard a guitar and singing. Somewhere in the center of that circle, surrounded by the crowd of kids was at least one of my teammates. I spotted another one sitting with a couple of girls, just chatting with them. Another was playing a clapping game. Another was running and dodging throughout the yard, playing tag. A couple of others had found their way into the Soccer game I was playing.
Everyone that I saw had all of the kids smiling, laughing, and engaging with them.
Throughout the morning, the kids had transformed from quiet, timid, little creatures to hyper, normal, energetic kids.
Then, recess was over. Most of the kids piled into their classrooms, waving at us, hugging us, and saying their goodbyes to us. Some loitered outside with us.
I pulled out my camera, trying to capture the goodbye moments.
A set of four boys saw that I had my camera. They pulled on my arm and begged me to take pictures of them. They made funny faces, did summersaults and flips. Each one trying to outdo the other and impress us. As soon as I showed them the pictures they would laugh at each other’s antics and beg for more pictures.
I couldn’t help thinking about how different the scene was from that morning when I had taken a picture of that shy little boy in line for food.
Even better was when we left.
As we piled into the van (or on top of it), the kids frantically waved goodbye to us. Most of them followed the van to the edge of the schoolyard, still waving. Then, as the van drove away, a group of boys chased after the van.
When we first arrived, they shied away from us. Now they were chasing us as we left. Waving and shouting, and with big smiles on their faces they chased after our van until we were going too fast for them to keep up. Finally, they stood in the middle of the road, slowly blotted out by the dust kicked up by the van and the distance.
It’s amazing the difference a couple of hours playing and pouring into kids can make.
*Gringos = Spanish term for white people (gringo is the masculine form, gringa is the feminine form)
*Amiga = Spanish word for friend
* Como te llama? = means ‘What is your name?’ in Spanish
*Hola = means ‘hello’ in Spanish
*Mucho gusto = basically means ‘nice to meet you’ in Spanish
