The 2007 day planner marked May 26th as a day of commotion, full of anxiety and craziness. One of our colleagues had canceled his participation in an activity at Los Delfines, near Tambor Beach. As such, after having played until three in the afternoon at Hotel la Condesa, we began the journey which would take us, though we didn't know it yet, to the future of our dreams. We had to make the 6:00 ferry, and (running and sprinting all the way) we arrived just on time. What an adventure! After docking in Paquera, we sped another half-hour to our destination. We needed to be on time: Carlos Roberto “Pipo” Chávez and and “Ricardito” Fonseca were waiting for us, ready to play, except that the equiptment was in our car.
We were cutting it close, but at 7:50 we were ready to begin. We listened to a few speeches from a construction company committed the environment and local development, which sounded to us like “blah blah blah” just like all political speeches. Then came the music, the wine, and two hours later, bedtime.
Around 8:30 the next morning, Pipo, Ricardito, Jenny and I, accompanied by an entourage of others, went to breakfast. on the way from the rooms to the restaurant, we met the enigmatic character, Guillermo Hoppe, who invited us to dinner that evening.
Pipo and Ricardito had to return to San Jose early, so only Jenny and I accepted the invitation. Around midday Guillermo picked us up to show us around the area and its natural wonders, and invited us to have lunch in Bahía Ballena. I don't know (and I don't think who was at the table knows) how, but within moments we were talking about the creation of a music school in the Bay. Without knowing us, he asked “How much is needed?”... “Done?”... “Done!” As a result, without knowing how or why, the course of our lives was making a hundred-eighty degree turn.
At around 8:00 at night, we were sharing with an unknown group of people, in an unknown place, and without knowing who would pay such a bill, we were introduced to blond-haired, blue-eyed Donald Thomson and his wife, Terry Lee... they would pay the bill, not only for dinner but also for the wild idea that we'd discussed.
The next morning we visited a small school, in a town that to our eyes was no more than a dusty street surrounded by a few humbled baking in the sun. In this remote place, we spoke to the children, and played a little for them. Their surprise was our own, their happiness began to fill our hearts. At this, Don said, “I think we've found where.” A few hours later, we were playing again, in the same town, but this time for another blue-eyed blond, Mr. Randell “ Papa Randy” Smith,who was selling property in this little paradise called Pochote. After hearing our idea, he dried his eyes, and shook Don's hand.
Now we had a place, but.... to whom would we teach? In a community as poor as this one, who could pay even one cent for music lessons? This was the best moment of our history: we would teach those who couldn't pay, those who were yearning to learn, and those who dreamed of being the protagonists of their own barefoot histories. To those of “tanned faith” as it was said later by a great friend and colleague, to the economically lacking... to everyone.
A month later, and with no fewer ups and downs than those written above, we arrived once more to Pochote, this time to stay. We were received on the second floor of a well-deteriorated building by a man with a half of a century on his shoulders, with a deep gaze and a friendly smile. He shook my hand and greeted Jenny cordially; “Hänsel Hoppe,” he reminded us as he helped take our luggage upstairs and showed us here we would be spending the night. Who would have thought that this single person would have so much to give to this dream? At that moment, our thoughts were on sleep.
A marvelous morning, stepping out onto the balcony. The view couldn't have better, showing a deep blue ocean and a clear sky. The sand stretched beyond my sight, and the fresh morning breeze showed us paradise once again.
During the first two weeks, we had no success. The town wanted to know who we were, what we were doing, and what we wanted in exchange for these free classes.
It was Terry's idea to begin working with the elementary school, collaborating with the music program to teach the national anthem and to improve their presentations, to do anything that would allow us to become closer to the community.
Soon after we had our first list of students (they all wanted to play guitar, of course!), but one little girl raised her hand and affirmed “I want to play violin.” My eyes probably shined like never before, and without delay, the next day she had her first lesson.
Two months passed, and our instruments were limited to one violin (my own), one cello (Jenny's), and a keyboard. Even so, the children didn't miss a single lesson, whether they had to wait their turn or not, they were there. We acquired paper, colored pencils, jigsaw puzzles, cards, and other materials to entertain them, but we still didn't have instruments. Then one night, after that first little girl played for a group of foreigners, began the second phase of this craziness, now called Harmony Music School.
Our first instruments arrived, the fruit of donations and especially the fruit of a large economic contribution by that business with the gray logo, Harmony Development.
The year continued its course, and as is to be expected, many came, many left, those who one day wanted to play violin, the next day wanted to play cello and vice versa. The rainy season flooded the classrooms, the roads, which in the summer were dusty, were now impassible mud. But the children kept coming.
As the days passed, our family grew, now to include Wendy, a strong, bold young mother who kept everything in order; Hänsel, who filled our heads with hope and truth; Jenny, who won hearts with her singular charm; Tey, with her love of dancing and her long secretarial experience; and me. At that time, Terry Lee was in charge of the administrative management, which consisted of resolving how to cover the costs of the institution, considering that at best we had seven students who were able to pay. One day a bright new security officer, Juancito arrived. While he actually worked for Harmony as a Gipson operator, he also had a ton of information engineering classes under his belt; but because of the needs of the school, and thanks to the influence of Terry, he was handed over to our project. The two elements that were still missing would arrive in 2008: Jennifer, who was in charge of improving the, generally low, academic performance of the students; and Tita, an architecture graduate would would work intensely in the future infrastructure of “our” town.
With leaps and bounds, and a flurry of activity, the year came to an end. We were all marveled by the children, who with great effort and tenaciousness converted their adversity into a marvelous cantata, that grueling heat into a delicious recital, and the incredulity of those first days into a more precise faith. Pochote is the future!
Friday, December 14th, at 7 o'clock in the evening, the lights of our bright stage went on and our students burst onto the stage, mixing the sound of the waves with that of their voices. That was a memorable night for the town... The people were besides themselves with admiration, and we felt that our effort was paying off.
Dressed with dignity and in their best attire, for the recital on Saturday the 15th, in which the children and young adults demonstrated what they'd learned during months of delight. Our packed theater filled one again with uproar and applause.
No less was the delight shown on those young faces during the end of year party... the first of all of those to come... the first of a life-long dream.
JORGE SILIEZAR RUIZ
