“We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each other’s happiness – not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way.
“Greed has poisoned men’s souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical. Our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost….”
– Charlie Chaplin – “The Great Dictator” movie, 1940
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Ladies and Gentlemen,
Welcome to today’s event, a particularly important inauguration. I am honored to have been invited to speak, as the mayor of our beautiful city in this particularly resilient neighborhood. But want you to forget for a moment that I am the mayor, for that is not why I have been asked to speak. Forget that I am an elected official, I want to say a few words as a fellow resident, a witness who has been profoundly touched and moved by what he sees happening around him.
Our city has gone through a lot. Unplanned urbanization, joblessness, extreme wealth and extreme poverty, violence… My daily struggle is to see where we should be working, what we should be doing first, the needs are so great. And usually the poorer neighborhoods like your own don’t get the support they should, never are we able to come anywhere close to providing the help you need.
So of course, you really did not need the earthquake three months ago. It hit us hard. But it did not hit everyone equally. It hit hardest those who were already struggling to get by. Like many of you here, from this neighborhood, from Santa Rita.
I have a lot of respect for residents of Santa Rita, and I know it has been a long battle. So I really felt the pain you felt when many of you lost your belongings, or had your houses damaged. It was all over the news, and rightly so. But as is often the case, the government’s response was not adequate. The Municipality provided a little more, but nowhere near what the needs were.
So I was excited when we got news that an international organization saw the damage we had suffered on the news. They wanted to give us a hand. Great news!
Once they arrived here, I received a formal written invitation to observe the relief operation. Actually, I am pretty sure I was not invited. It was one of these awkwardly written letters informing the authorities of an important event. But really, in the way it was worded, it made it clear that they did not consider it important enough that the participation of local politicians was required.
The wording of the letter aroused my interest. But that was not the only reason. They explained that their first distribution was going to take place in Santa Rita and Esperanza. Now that raised my interest even further. However much you had been affected by the earthquake, which no one would argue about, I would have thought twice about carrying out any kind of open distribution in either neighborhood, much less carry out a joint distribution for both neighborhoods. It is no secret that the two neighborhoods do not hold each other dearly, to put it mildly. The letter had raised my curiosity; I decided to go and see.
Well, early on that Thursday morning, I was not disappointed. I had arrived a little before them, but thought it safer to park a bit further out. Then suddenly, a convoy of brand-new white Jeeps descended on Santa Rita and Esperanza with the grace of an exuberant elephant taking over the management of a porcelain store. Just as they entered the Avenida de la Independencia between Santa Rita and Esperanza, three cars parked on either side of the deserted boulevard. They were clearly trying to set up some kind of safe zone.
As I walked up the avenue, I remember this strange impression of an encounter of the third type: as the dust was settling, the team members seemed to be cast straight out of a Swedish soap opera. Tall, blonde, blue eyes, brand new uniforms with colorful logos, perfectly combed hair over perfectly grown beard stubbles, fishing vests with more pockets than I have lovers. Every team member seemed to talk on their satellite phones at the same time…
All this to say I was impressed. They had announced a time and showed up ten minutes before. They obviously had money and did not mind showing it. They had put a lot of thought in the logistics, dropping in on a town they had no clue about.
I eventually realized they were not all foreigners. Some of our fellow countrymen were starting to walk up to the improvised distribution site, wearing the same perfectly ironed vests. A couple of them recognized me as I looked on from the side and they came to introduce themselves. These latecomers lacked the confidence and equipment of their alpha team. And they had obviously decided, as I had, that it would be safer to park a few blocks away from the avenue.
I wasn’t too sure what they were waiting for. Then suddenly a green van drove up the avenue and parked right in the middle of the closed-off avenue. An unidentified television crew came out of the van and started to set up their equipment.
It seemed the show was ready. The team leader, recognizable by his platinum blonde hair and a stubble noticeably longer than the others, shouted something in his phone and all took to their positions. Now, “taking their positions” may be pushing it a little. It primarily seemed to consist in smoking cigarettes by their Jeeps. A few minutes later, two old furniture trucks plastered with the same logo came up the street. They painfully maneuvered between the potholes and the white Jeeps and U-turned. Once parked side by side, their doors opened to face the empty avenue.
Actually, by then the streets weren’t so empty. Curious onlookers had started to converge, though they all remained at a reasonable distance, as I did. A few shop owners decided to close their stalls, but still kept a discreet eye on the process.
I was told that the team had given out vouchers to local organizations to hand out to the most needy, who would then redeem those vouchers for the boxes of food kits and other items in the trucks. It seemed they expected that the people of Santa Rita and Esperanza would walk down together, hand in hand, to get their free donations. After all, who doesn’t want a free meal?
Some people started to gather around the white Jeeps. They were directed to the two lines that were being formed to redeem the vouchers. But there were very few voucher holders. It was still early, no one expected the distributions to start on time, if they expected them to take place at all. The first vouchers were being exchanged for white cardboard boxes, which the new owners quickly disappeared with. That is when the trouble started.
Well, you probably saw or heard what happened next. Two shots were fired, in the air it seems. Everyone got to the ground, then rushed for the side streets. The foreigners scurried to their white Jeeps and drove off as fast as they had arrived. The television crew was the first to go.
Only one Jeep remained. The team leader stood in the middle of the cloud of dust and abandoned boxes, wondering what had just happened. Behind him, the two furniture trucks stood frozen, their doors wide open, revealing the thousands of white boxes neatly stacked inside. Apparently the drivers had also run for cover.
Faithful to my true courageous self, I stood in the back, looking on from a street corner along with a number of frightened neighbors. I somehow convinced myself that it was from afar that I was in the best position to assess the situation and determine what actions should be taken. At no point did it occur to me to call the police or our security department. Just for the record, and I know one day the politician in me will regret it, I cannot take any credit for anything that happened that day.
As the team leader tried to consider his options, a black pick-up truck drove out of a side street from Esperanza and drove aggressively towards the two trucks. It stopped a few meters from the team leader, and two armed youngsters jumped out of the back. They got into the first truck and, with the pick-up backing up closer to the truck, they started throwing boxes onto the rear bed. Just as the team leader came to his senses, a second pick-up truck came out of the same street and drove up to the second truck. The team leader started shouting to the youngsters in poor Spanish, but they just ignored him.
I watched on. We all did. It seemed so predictable, so easy, so ridiculous. One of the gang members got into the last remaining white Jeep, and drove off into the same side street. I am not even sure the team leader noticed. He was too busy arguing with the driver of the second pick-up, who just appeared to relish his sudden importance.
Now, I have been critical over the years of our armed forces. I can say they have been known for showing up after the battle. But that day was different. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before three military trucks with heavy duty machine guns suddenly charged into the avenue, taking both pick-ups by complete surprise. I have no clue how they knew about this, I can only assume someone in that team has used their high level contacts to request protection for the distribution. All I can say is that suddenly the rules of the game had changed.
The driver of the second pick-up, who had been enjoying the attention, if not the spittle, of the team leader, suddenly reacted. Still seated behind the steering wheel, he grabbed the Swedish team leader by the collar, dragged him to the window, pulled a gun out of nowhere and shoved it into the humanitarian’s neck. I could hear the shout of the Commander ordering his men to hold their fire. Suddenly we had a hostage situation. I think that’s when it hit the team leader; that is when he realized he was in trouble.
Had I been younger and braver, I probably would have walked in to try to defuse the situation. But I calculated that getting a bullet through my head would lower my chances of being reelected. So I decided to stay put.
As minutes went by, the stand-off got increasingly complicated. I was standing on the Santa Rita side of the avenue, which means I had a good view of the Esperanza side. So I could see three more heavily armed vehicles driving down the neighborhood. As well as the movement on the roofs of the stores across the street, with gang members taking aim at the military vehicles. The commander also noticed those movements, got his men under cover and called in for more troops. There was nowhere the two black pick-ups could go to. There was nowhere the military trucks could move. Just that one hostage keeping the two sides from firing away.
Two more military trucks showed up shortly after, blocking the two sides of the avenue. Troops jumped out of the trucks and surrounding the furniture trucks, keeping clear from the snipers on the Esperanza roofs. Other soldiers made their way up on some of the surrounding buildings as well. The build-up seemed unstoppable. There was no way that it would not lead to a bloodshed. I kept telling myself, if only there was someone that everyone knew and respected who could step in… Someone other than me…
Well, sometimes your wishes do become reality. Out of nowhere, or rather, from another side street filled with anxious onlookers, stepped out Doña Yolanda. For those of you who do not know her, Doña Yolanda is both the bravest, most committed idealist I have ever met, and the biggest pain in the ass who once kept me locked into my house for a full day, just to make the point that the gang battles of Santa Rita and Esperanza needed to be taken into account. Well, this lady, who has absolutely no sense of self preservation, just started walking into the avenue, completely oblivious to the troops aiming at her from behind the trucks. She simply strolled up to the black pick-up where the team leader was being held hostage and started talking to the driver. She then walked around the pick-up to one of the furniture trucks, and started speaking to one of the gang members hiding inside. The discussion lasted several minutes.
Then Doña Yolanda walked back to the hostage and the driver, said something to them, and then crossed over to the truck where the Commander had been issuing his messages. They had another chat, as if they were old friends catching up. Doña Yolanda then headed back to the furniture truck, said something to the person there, before walking back to the driver and the hostage. The hostage was set free. He started walking, very slowly at first, his hands in the air, towards the Commander’s truck.
I must confess, I had a lot of admiration for that humanitarian team leader. I took the time to notice that, even in the heat of the action, he kept his uniform straight and presentable, though it looked much more wrinkled and dirty than it had been thirty minutes earlier. His hair, however, did not budge under pressure.
As he got closer to the army trucks, the Swedish team leader started to go a little faster, until he reached the military truck and literally jumped to safety.
During those brief seconds that he took to reach freedom, the gang members scurried for the two black pick-ups overloaded with white boxes. The deal seemed to be a hostage exchange and free passage for the Esperanza gang to the Esperanza side streets, with Doña Yolanda acting as guarantee.
Unfortunately not everyone got the message. Just as the first pick-up started to move, with Doña Yolanda walking peacefully by its side, a single shot was fired, apparently aiming for the driver of the first pick-up. Both sides responded with a dozen shots each, which the Commander miraculously succeeded in stopping. But Doña Yolanda stood in the crossfire. She collapsed to the ground.
No one moved. The Esperanza gang had lost its hostage, yet the Commander did not seem willing to take advantage of the situation. No-one approached Doña Yolanda. Again I asked myself, Why are heroes always in such short supply?
The tense calm lasted for several minutes that felt like hours. No one moved. The street was so calm that we could hear Doña Yolanda’s muffled groans a couple blocks away. And again, a miracle happened. Out of another street, Santa Rita side, a group of a dozen young men marched slowly into the avenue, each holding an improvised stretcher with one hand, the other hand in the air slowly waving white handkerchiefs. I immediately recognized the first in line, Arturo from the Los Santos gang, who has been giving us quite some trouble over the years. They marched in a close formation, huddled around the stretcher but making sure to show they had nothing to hide. They marched in front of the Commander’s truck, who continued to order his troops to hold their fire. The Commander nodded and the rescue team advanced. They marched right in front of the black pick-up of the rival gang and carefully lifted Doña Yolanda from the ground. They exchanged some words with their rivals.
I don’t think there had been as many discussions between those two gangs as took place that day. The Esperanza gang members huddled in those two cars raised white flags of their own. They all showed their weapons before tossing them outside of the windows. They got out of the cars, very cautiously, and joined the procession, carrying the stretcher on which Doña Yolanda lied in pain. Together, all the gang members marched back towards the Santa Rita hill, where they disappeared into a side alley.
Somehow, that morning, it is more than a bloodshed that was avoided. Santa Rita and Esperanza rewrote the story of their neighborhoods.
You may say that I am getting old, that this story has nothing to do with why we are here today. To why we are standing in this nice square in the middle of new Santa Rita. To why I have been asked to inaugurate this new park and play area. Well, allow me to suggest otherwise. This park is a testament to the collective will of the people of Santa Rita. It is a great demonstration of the resilience of our people when confronted to the most dramatic situations, day in and day out, the drudgery of barely getting by, the silent despair and constant losses. This is a story of success, of local commitment and initiative. And a large part of this we owe to Doña Yolanda and to your other invisible leaders.
Doña Yolanda did not disappear on that Thursday morning. The gang members quickly got her to a doctor who brought her to the hospital. And she is here today, her broken leg in a cast, a fine testament to her indomitable spirit. She warned me when she arrived: “Don’t you dare make this about me.”
Well, I take full responsibility for disregarding Doña Yolanda’s request. After what I saw that morning, I am fully prepared to live for the rest of my life with the fear of her wrath because I chose to give her the recognition she deserves. Today we are here to honor Doña Yolanda, as well as her neighbors in Santa Rita and Esperanza, we are here to honor all of you here present, for finding ways to live together, for building projects together, for mapping out a future for their children.
It is a message of hope that we can do things differently, rely on ourselves and find solutions, if we accept to speak to our neighbors and realize that what brings us together is so much more important than what separates us. And it means that, even against all odds, a divided and violent community is able to come together, then every community has that ability. You have demonstrated that, I can only thank you.
It means that even in the unlikely event that one day, in a distant future, I am not reelected as your beloved mayor, whatever you have built will continue. It means that nothing you have accomplished depends on outsiders.
So before I hand over to Father Miguel to lead us in prayer and formally declare this park inaugurated, allow me to share some final thoughts. First of all, let us be thankful, not just for what we have, both for who we are and who we have around us. This neighborhood is in no ways perfect, its past is heavy with suffering and anger, grief and retribution. This past cannot be changed, nor will it be forgotten. But sometimes the wounds go too deep and there is no revenge that can soothe that pain. You have chosen to move on, not because these acts deserve forgiveness but because yours is the only path to finding lasting peace.
The second lesson Santa Rita has taught us is our responsibility to look out for others, whoever they may be. It doesn’t matter if I know you or not, we are each other’s keeper. When people come here from faraway lands with the best intentions in the world, but clueless as to our realities, we share a duty to protect them from themselves as much as they share a duty to help us. Let the future keep us free of foreign aid, because we will no longer need it, because we will know how to find the resources among ourselves to address our problems.
Santa Rita has come a long way and, however much I’d like to take credit for it, you are the ones who have shown us the way. This neighborhood was one of rickety houses, desperate families and – how should I put it? – extreme entrepreneurship. You have made it into a community. A community where I see neighbors look out for each other, agree to work together and even pool in some of their hard-earned cash to make this a better place for their children. The crimes are not gone, the jobs are still scarce, but this is undoubtedly a community of homes with a shared destiny.
And yet, you have become more than that. You have become a beacon of hope for this city. “If Santa Rita can do it, we can do it”, such will be our city’s new motto. Look at what you have accomplished and allow me to ask you: what would this city look like if we had 50 or 100 Santa Ritas?
I therefore commit today – may all of you here present bear witness – to form a Municipal Coalition for Resilience, to involve all neighborhood groups, all local leaders, all committed businessmen and religious leaders interested in becoming Santa Ritas. Let this coalition help map critical challenges across every neighborhoods, every district in this fine city. Let this coalition identify our capacities, the capacities all of us already have, and prove that we are as capable as anyone else to solve these problems. Let this coalition demonstrate that we are all capable of following Santa Rita’s example. That in a year from now we shall have 100 such inaugurations in neighborhoods that understood that we are more than sum of our individualities. We will knock on every door and invite every family; we will include every street and bring all committed volunteers and all committed organizations on board. Let this be the commitment by which you will assess my tenure as a mayor.
I leave this community transformed by your example. Let the play area we are inaugurating tonight be remembered always as the beacon for the brighter future you have envisioned for all of us.
Thank you.
One Billion Legacies 