Legwork
on the road from poverty
Dance
school gives young Colombians upward mobility
Jens
Erik Gould, Chronicle Foreign Service
Tuesday,
May 29, 2007
Cartagena
de Indias, Colombia -- In a dim practice space
tucked into the colorful colonial district of this popular
tourist center, a dancer wears a black T-shirt that reads,
"Dream as if you'll live forever; live as if you'll
die today."
Alvaro
Restrepo, 49, who leads his dancers to extend their muscular
torsos and outstretched legs to the baroque melodies of
Vivaldi's Four Seasons, has taken that quote from actor
James Dean to heart.
Dance
is precisely what he's using to rescue youths impoverished
or displaced by the country's brutal 4-decade-old civil
war. Celebrating its 10th anniversary this year, Restrepo's
Colegio del Cuerpo, or College of the Body, is part of a
growing wave of programs across Colombia that are helping
embattled children develop a way out of conflict through
love of the arts.
His
dance academy has been honored by the United Nations as
an alternative for conflict resolution in war-torn areas
and praised by the contemporary dance world for its cutting-edge
choreographies. Its best dancers have performed across Europe
and Latin America, and made their U.S. debut in New York
last month.
"They've
had the opportunity to become citizens of the world, and
this is something that's not usual in this kind of society,"
Restrepo said in perfect English with traces of both U.S.
and British accents.
His
program is taking on a crisis that stumps governments and
nongovernmental organizations around the world: How to rescue
children who grow up in bloody conflicts or destitute poverty.
Colombia, which has more than 3 million internally displaced
people -- the world's second-largest displaced population,
after Sudan -- is a most troubling case.
At
an early age, many Colombian children are forced with a
terrible decision -- either earn money by joining a death
squad or drug gang, or remain poor and vulnerable to such
groups.
Some
of the academy's young dancers live in Cartagena's sprawling
shantytown called Nelson Mandela, named after the South
African leader. It is home to thousands of displaced people
from the surrounding region, and until recently the slum
had no running water, electricity or public transportation.
Right-wing death squads have targeted residents and dumped
their victims on slum streets.
Restrepo's
school is one of the few vehicles for helping children in
violent Nelson Mandela escape such poverty.
Take
Viridiana Calvo. At 10, criminals killed her father. Soon
after, her mother, a cashier, lost her job after the supermarket
where she worked was bombed. Out of money, the family moved
to Nelson Mandela. Viridiana stopped going to school.
Fast
forward eight years and the tall, fair-skinned 18-year-old
prances gracefully across stages on several continents.
Her dedication to dance has earned her a spot in the school's
professional dance company, a scholarship and a monthly
salary, which has helped her family move to a safer area.
"I
owe all of this to the College of the Body -- to be able
to tell you that I believe I can live with dignity,"
Calvo said.
Victor
Cassiani, 17, and his family moved to Nelson Mandela after
armed groups fighting over turf forced them to leave their
rural farm whose corn, plantains and cassava harvests were
their livelihood. "We can't go back because those groups
kill," Cassiani said.
Having
lost everything, three generations of his extended family
now crowd into a tattered wooden shack deep among the shantytown's
disorderly hovels and muddy roads. His grandfather, who
sells vegetables in the city market, and mother, a maid,
said the dance program will bring Victor an opportunity
they never had.
"Before
you had to have money to be able to pursue a profession,"
said Eluterio Cassiani, the grandfather. "That's why
I tell him to keep going so he'll be a great person who
everyone admires."
This
depressed area with mainly African Colombian residents is
also a stark reminder of the social rift that divides Cartagena,
which is essentially two cities in one. The better-known
side is the historical walled city that tourists flock to,
a UNESCO World Heritage site and vacationing spot for such
renowned figures as Colombia's famed author Gabriel Garcia
Marquez and the country's mostly-white elite. Between the
two is an entrenched racism that still festers in a city
whose role as a major slave port once made it a lucrative
hub for the Spanish crown, historians say.
The
dance school, which includes many African Colombians, aims
to mend the divide, and has met resistance not just because
of class conflict. Cartagena is used to traditional music
such as the cumbia and the Caribbean genre known as salsa
-- not the eclectic movements of contemporary dance.
The
elites "have tried to ignore it," Restrepo said.
"But I think it's becoming more and more difficult
to ignore. In a way I think it's a project that's contributing
to change the mentality of the city."
Nothing
seemed further removed from violence and poverty than contemporary
dance when Restrepo, a protege of world-renowned American
dancer Martha Graham and other innovators of modern dance
in New York, returned to his native Colombia two decades
ago.
Restrepo
performed internationally until he teamed up with French
dance director Marie-France Delieuvin to build the Cartegena
academy, believing that "arts were a very good tool
for helping kids."
Last
year, the Japanese government and the World Bank signed
an agreement to give academy students not only dance classes,
but courses in ethics, drug prevention and sex education
to more than 3,000 of the city's poorest children. Sponsors
also include the Swiss UBS bank, a German pharmaceutical
company Boehringer Ingelheim and the Ministry of Culture.
Meanwhile,
Restrepo and his dancers resist being labeled a social experiment,
insisting they be recognized foremost for their high artistic
standards.
"When
we show the company we don't want (people) to come see a
social project," Restrepo said. "We want them
to come and see great dancers." |