On the Road

Thursday, 26 November
We pull out of the gas station at 10:45; my ear is very attuned to the motor knock. Oscar and I are in front with Edy at the wheel; Luis, Rigo (Guillermo's little brother) and Chito (Mario's brother) are in the back. The latter three are Keyed up: this workshop will be their directorial debut.

Just past Guaymitas the truck starts to fish-tail. Flat tire, right rear. The crew gets to work and we're back on the road in ten minutes. We stop in Tela to fix the tire. You can feel the sea breeze and smell the sea, although the town is between us and the beach. After half an hour we're on the road again, heading east along the coast. There's little traffic on this stretch and road is in good condition.

We stop for lunch in la Ceiba at a place called "Mac's" near the market: Open veranda of white clapboard trimmed in dark green with orange slats outlining a ceiling. Paul Simon competes with the din of the market that's just coming alive after siesta. Clouds hug the mountains; over the sea it is clear and blue. Oscar "studies" English until he gets distracted and flirts with the waitress; Chito busily computes prices; Rigo puzzles over a menu item painted on the wall: "Pepers esteik."

Paving is in process on the road to link La Ceiba with Trujillo. The first few kilometers along the sea are a dream. We head inland to cross into the Aguán valley, the pavement stops and reality returns. It is obvious that all of the last months' efforts have gone into the paving and nothing into maintenance. We're within striking distance when the rear wheel starts making ominous noises. We're stop to investigate and can find nothing. We cross our fingers and continue -- as do the noises.

At 4:30 we arrive in Sonaguera. The town that time forgot. Sonaguera IS García-Márquez' Macondo. The name tells its origin (Sonaguera = Zona de Guerra -- the war zone): it was founded by early colonists escaping the attacks of the English pirates on Trujillo. The first bishop of Honduras moved with them in 1552, but the moment of glory faded quickly and the town settled into oblivion. In the early part of this century the banana companies passed through and stirred up a Leaf Storm (cf GGM's story recounting the same event in Macondo) and left the town an abandoned railroad spur, some rotting, termite infested warehouses, and permission to settle back into oblivion.

The town square is nicely laid out but the pines are scraggly and the permanent coating of dust gives it an unused, musty feel, like an unoccupied building. The church is simple whitewashed adobe, rebuilt many times on colonial foundations, with an excellent raised playing space for Gospel dramatizations. The parish center is to the right and behind the church itself. People gather round to greet us as we pull in.

Dinner is ready by the time we unload and we have a chance to survey the group: rather young, mostly mid-teens, with the glaring exception of doña Julia, a sixtyish campesina. Oscar takes down names and organizes a list of the groups: seven villages plus a group from Sonaguera itself for a total of thirty-eight, all but four of whom are beginners. I have trouble keeping a straight face as we go over the list: during the leaf storm some joker had the bright idea of naming banana camps after Italian operas: Aída, Tosca, La Giaconda. The reality doesn't quite live up to the romantic promise of the names.

Edy has everyone introduce himself to the group; he is rather hard on them, insisting from the beginning that they stand up and say their names loud and clear. I give an overview of the Christmas material and explain how we are going to work with it: each village will learn a part of the story and we'll try to put it all together for a presentation at Mass on Sunday, Oscar tries to get them to express what they are expecting from the week-end.

The group is animated. This is the third workshop we've done in Sonaguera since July, so most have had the chance to see Gospel dramatizations in action and have been forewarned that in this workshop they are going to have to WORK. A comment from a guy about 20:

"Christmas is a very sad time in our communities. I hope we can learn a way to bring some joy into our communities this Christmas."

I hope so too.

Practical details: rules of the center, Jobs; sheets are handed out everyone sets to figuring out how to bed down for the night. The fragüeños run lines for John the Baptist and I go over to the Casa Cural to claim a bed. Carlos has just arrived and we chat for a while about how the Gospel dramatizations are going in the villages, the floods, the latest string of military atrocities in the area.

I go out for a stroll around the plaza. The night is tropical-crisp, the moon a day past first quarter and the stars brilliant. The voices of a group of men playing cards in the street cut through the silence. I follow the sound of the clinks to the pool hall. The señora leans on the half-open door, the brightly-lit room behind framing her in an intense chiaroscuro effect. We chat as I drink down a Coke and drink in the bedded-down town.

Friday, 27 November
I oversleep. Carlos is fixing the motorcycle as I pass and the fragüeños are doing John the Baptist when I arrive at the center. J.B. is one of Oscar's classic roles; he's a bit rusty on it but he still wields a mean "Brood of vipers!" and it's enough to impress the assembled multitude. Four more have arrived in the morning, bringing the total to forty-two. They have done physical warm-up and a couple of improvisation exercises and are attentive and energetic. Luis directs a music practice; I launch into an analysis of the structure of the John the Baptist chapter of which I'm sure they don't understand a word. We divide up the chapter and send them out with a fragua director to get to work.

After lunch Edy gets them started on the first chapter of Luke: The story of Zachary and Elizabeth, the Annunciation, the Visitation. I wander from group to group, helping out the novice directors when they get stuck. Chito is swimming at first: he has the hardest scene, the birth of John the Baptist. I show him how to structure it and his grin tells me he sees it and has it under control. After a break, back to John the Baptist. Aída, Tosca, Trovatore, and doña Julia's group are barely literate, so the going is very slow; but they're putting their all into it and are advancing steadily.

After dinner Luis leads a singing practice. Then we split the group in two; Edy takes one, I the other, to run them through some concentration and improvisation exercises. I'm impressed with the work my group does. We come back together and Luis gets them going again:

We divide up to rehearse in village groups, and everyone is quite ready for bed by the time these break up.

Saturday, 28 November
Today is Oscar's 18th birthday. He's beaming and is very cautious to maintain his distance from all of us. After warm-ups and improvisations Edy makes a first try at putting the pieces together. It causes a lot of confusion and is very rough but they get through it: the goal at this point. At noon Edy and I take the wheel off the truck and discover the source of the noise: a piece of the brake mechanism has been chewed up and come loose. We play around with it for a while and leave it in frustration.

It starts to rain. After lunch we catch Oscar napping and deliver his birthday spanking. Edy shepherds the group over to the church to rehearse in the space they are going to play mañana. It's so quiet in Sonaguera because there's no motor noise; I haven't heard a car pass all day. The whoosh of bicycles on the dirt, the clippety-clop of horses' hooves, the neighbor's calling out to each other as they pass: with only these for competition, the actors' voices echo across the plaza and bounce off the adobe walls and down the streets.

At dinner break Edy and I patch the brake together with bubble-gum, put the wheel back on and cross our fingers. We divide into two groups for concentration and improvisation; Oscar takes my group. Then Edy directs a last rehearsal for tomorrow morning. They will do John the Baptist as the Gospel of the Mass, after Mass the first chapter of Luke: two cycle plays, in effect, with each village responsible for two scenes. They're tired and Edy has to be a bit heavy-handed to get energy up. Then they start. And the little neon-lit room expands and disappears as the actors suddenly realize how the story fits together and what their part contributes to the development of the whole and they create one of the most thrilling theatrical moments I have ever experienced. And they know it: You can see the price of creation in their bodies and in their beaming expressions.

Edy and I take Oscar out to look for something to eat. The Saturday night town has come alive. We duck into a shack where a beautiful young Carib woman is frying chickens. Oscar is bubbling over about the improvisations he directed: "It's the first time I felt like I was really directing them and they were really following me and we were all working together to make something." A speaker blasts Jamaican reggae and Oscar's body can't resist, the cook-waitress catches the plague and dances the chicken over to us, Edy falls prey and then we're danceatcooking a birthday quartet. As we walk back toward the center we hear the group still singing:

Sunday, 29 November
The church is jammed. The energy charging the space more than makes up for the technical glitches that opening morning nerves bring. After the performance the congregation sits stunned for a moment and then breaks into a thunderous applause. It's clear from their faces that the novice actors are experiencing the thrill of receiving that applause.

We get together in the center for evaluation and comments. It's very moving.

"You've brought us a new song, a song of joy that we can take back to our communities."

"We have to make sure that we work together so that we can give what we've learned here to our communities."

"If we can give life to these dramas, we should be able to bring real joy into the sadness of our communities this Christmas."

And from doña Julia, the sixtyish matron who's stuck it out:

"I feel very happy because I've never experienced anything like this. All of us have to commit ourselves to keep fighting to bring this joy to all our communities."

From all of us at teatro la fragua:

Our sincere prayer for a Christmas filled with peace and joy.
And may you help bring that peace
to this world of darkness
in the New Year.