September 13, 2018July 6, 2020 Amy

When life gives you walls… paint a mural!

Honduras

Ever since we were shown our house in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, I was simultaneously afraid and frustrated. Firstly, afraid of what unknown dangers –human or otherwise- the imposing wall was meant to be protecting us from, and secondly, frustrated that from our house full of large windows we were forced to stare at a very large bland cement-gray wall. The city of Tegucigalpa sits in a valley surrounded by mountains either green with vegetation or covered in shanty towns perched precariously on the sloping cliffs. I’m always amused by the fact that often the poorest slums in developing countries have the best views.

In desperation, I asked the gardener to plant some climbing vines of ivy in the hope that they would grow quickly in this tropical environment and eventually hide some of the wall. I later discovered that our gardener was very much well-intentioned but had gleaned most of his experience while working in the US as an illegal immigrant – in none other than a suburban garden center. After numerous attempts to coax the vine to grow, I eventually observed that the top part of the wall has an overhang and therefore rain water rarely reaches the roots of the seedlings we planted below. Picture an imposing twelve-foot dark grey wall on top of which sit twelve (I counted them to be sure) electric wires. Just a few feet behind this wall sits the three-story brick wall of an evangelical church. The massive building displays random air conditioner units and exposed wiring tossed in for good measure. Not the best of views. I got to thinking about this wall and how little we used the outdoor garden space. Various conversations with friends and observations of graffiti inspired me to paint my very own mural. Here is the story of that journey.

 

I recently read a book called: “A Cup of Friendship” by Deborah Rodriguez, although fiction, the story is an embellishment of the authors experience living in Kabul, Afghanistan as an expat. In the novel, an American woman dares to open and run her own coffee shop in this dangerous and conservative city. The book tells the story of the various people who work and frequent the establishment. It also describes in detail the everyday struggle of living in such a dangerous and isolated country. After being forced to construct a 12-foot wall around her coffee shop in order to comply with the UN safety standards, she decides to try and make it more inviting by painting a mural of the seven sacred doves flying towards the heavens. An idea started to germinate in my mind’s eye…

A friend told me about a group called Colectivo Tomate. Based in Mexico, Colectivo Tomate is an organization made up of 20 artists, lawyers, architects, designers, nutritionists, and administrators that have collaborated in over eight cities in Mexico. They invite local citizens collaborate and take action in order to transform their streets into works of art which tell the story of their community. The group is sponsored by local paint companies to draw murals and beautify underprivileged neighbourhoods. This project attempts to make the village more appealing which in turn fosters a sense of ownership and pride in the community. I believe that no matter our social standing or background; we all need some art, some beauty, in our lives. No matter the size, we should all be proud of our home.

https://www.facebook.com/ColectivoTomate/

I read this article on the BBC news app: The Gambian village transformed by graffiti. « In a bid to lure tourists, internationally-renowned graffiti artists were invited to create artworks in a village in The Gambia. » writes the BBC’s Clare Spencer. The article portrays some beautiful murals on the walls of the mud huts in the village. It also narrates the frustration of the villagers who cannot communicate with the visitors, who risk losing the art (and their homes) to heavy rainfall, and the disappointment that promises of cement and community buildings that never come. This project is an example of people wanting to do good but forget to consult the villagers themselves and plan for the consequences post-project.

https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-43668143

 

I thought: I can paint my own mural.

A friend back home in Gatineau has painted quotes on the indoor walls of her home. In her living room, she wrote: “The days are long, but the years are short” as a reminder to enjoy the little things each day. And above the stove in her kitchen she painted: “Enjoy the process” as a reminder to enjoy the cooking as much as eating the meal. She told me these are simple daily reminders to appreciate the little things in life; I couldn’t agree more! She also sets aside a section of the wall in the kitchen on which they paint a mural together as a family. Every year, they collaborate on a new painting together. I love this project idea and it makes me smile every time I walk into her warm and welcoming kitchen (it’s also because she is a great cook!)

I thought about writing a quote on our tall wall in Tegucigalpa, but being the eternally undecided person that I am, I could never choose just one saying. For example, I once saw this quote tattooed on someone’s arm: “This too shall pass.” I find the saying meaningful after a tough day; but a bit of a caveat when things are going well the next day. I was hoping more for some colours and distractions which I could look at through the window every day.

 

When life gives you lemons… make lemonade!

My latest trip back to Canada made me realize that it does me nor the family any good to always be complaining and pining for what is “lacking” in my adopted home. Instead I should make delicious lemonade and share it with my new friends. Or serve up a refreshing glass of fresh papaya-strawberry juice, being that those are the local fruits in season at the moment. But I digress…

After spending many hours on Google images and Instagram looking for inspiration, an idea started to develop. I am well aware of my artistic limitations. I am not a freelance or graffiti artist who could paint a realistic looking sunset or Banksy style art. My artistic teacher friend Julie, who paints and does pottery in her spare time, suggested I start with simple shapes in bold colors. I felt reassured; geometric shapes and primary colors: I could handle that!

Next step was purchasing the materials. This being Honduras, I made sure to choose the right hardware store with safe underground parking and an armed security guard. I made several trips for different colors and observed snapshots of daily life in Honduras along the way.

 

BLUE

I drive by a man who has fallen asleep on the steps of the sidewalk in one of the busiest intersections near our neighbourhood. His body lay slumped over and his arms were resting on his bent knees. As he lay by the side of the road, I figured he must have fallen asleep from exhaustion. I noticed that his loose and dirty clothes were hanging off his slight frame. In passing, I also noticed that someone had left a grocery bag filled with beans and rice a few feet from his sleeping body. This is a nice gesture, especially in such a poor country. I wish I knew who had left the bag of food. I wonder at the man’s reaction upon opening his eyes and seeing the food someone left anonymously. Such a fleeting image, the moment was short but I spent the rest of the day wondering what happened next. I also try to guess who left the bag in the first place, someone rich wishing to assuage their guilt? Someone middle class wanting to share their luck? Someone religious following the scripture: love thy neighbour?

At the hardware story, I used my halting Spanish to explain my project: I want to paint an outdoor wall with several colors. Having never attempted to paint a mural before, I had to trust a stranger’s advice on paintbrushes and type of paint. I came home with two quarts of paint, one blue and one white, two medium sized paintbrushes and a big roll of frog tape. I started tracing the outlines of large triangles with tape. The wall is very high and my ideas quite grand; I quickly ran out of tape.

 

YELLOW

Each time I leave the compound, I am confronted with fleeting moments which leave lasting impressions. Today, I drive by a group of workers wearing old baggy clothes, wide brim straw hats, and bright orange vests as they tend to the gardens on their hands and knees in median in the middle of a main thoroughfare. This group of twenty or so adults’ toils under the bright sun sweeping the road with brooms hand made with branches and leaves while busy traffic rushing by on either side. Some of the men wield machetes and slash at the tall grass in the ditch beside the busy road. A tired looking woman sweeps up the dust and discarded fast food containers as cars whizz by, her young daughter follows close behind a lost look in her eyes. The honking and aggressive drivers bring me out of my reverie, I had no choice but to keep on driving past.

I return home with a quart of bright yellow paint, and more tape to create the outline of my abstract mural. When T woke up the morning after I had started painting the yellow triangles; he pushed his step stool to the 2^nd floor window and looked out into the garden. He exclaimed: “Mama’s painting is still there!” with a tinge of awe and joy in his voice. The large mural can now be seen from all the windows at the rear of the house.

RED

A few days later I go back to the hardware store for some red paint to round out my mixture of primary colors. Red paint being rare for walls, I turned to the pile of discarded discount paint cans and pick up a can of light pink outdoor paint. The shop keeper (who knew me well my now) patiently added magenta colouring to create my very own personalized dark pink (at a fraction of the cost!) This can was precious since the unique color can never be replicated.

Back home, my kind husband commented: “What’s the worst thing that can happen? If it’s really ugly we will just get someone to paint the wall grey again.” There are no rules except my own esthetic, and the collaboration of the materials. Obstacles along the way such as rain overnight, or bleeding paint, become challenges and part of the story behind my piece of art.

On the way home, as I sit in my car in the traffic at a busy intersection, two young boys dressed in dirty clothes and flip flops knock and tap relentlessly on my car window asking for money, for food, and even my bottle of water. In the rear-view mirror, I watch them repeat the gesture over and over again at each car lined up at the stop sign. It’s hard to be tough and ignore them every day. What risks am I taking upon myself and the children in the car if I dare open the window? What difference will a few of my Lempiras make? They should really be in school. If only my students back in Canada would appreciate more that their education in a luxury. They are not alone, here in Honduras 226 thousand children between the ages of 5 and 17 work instead of going to school (El Heraldo newspaper, September 10^th 2018.)

Back to the painting. I work while CBC radio music plays in the background. Baby B watches me from her pack-n-play set up in the small strip of grass which is our back yard garden. She is happy to be outdoors and self entertains with the plants and flowers. The art of painting is therapeutic. I think back to the people I observed living and working on the streets and try to imagine what they are up to now. Like meditation or yoga, I must concentrate solely on the task at hand so cannot worry about what’s for dinner and all the wrongs in this world.

When it’s all done and finished (nearly there!), I plan to hold a “Vernissage” to showcase my work of art. It’s also a good excuse to invite the neighbours over and throw a party! I want to make the best of the situation of living abroad. I am slowly turning a house into our home. Here in Tegucigalpa, the shell and furniture in our house were provided by the embassy. I can decorate and make use of the space as I please. I hope to make it feel welcome, practical and whimsical. Next step: print and display photos of our travels and pictures of us as a family all over the indoor walls in the home. It’s important to remember the good moments while making many new happy memories.

 

Although, such projects make me and my family feel happy, and we are grateful human beings for our experiences overseas, it is not lost on me that driving past people that have so little and the inherent inequality that is part of our day to day life living here in Honduras as the diplomat’s wife.