Short-termer Cat Hooton describes her day to remember...
...so my day to remember started at approximately 8pm last night. At 8pm last night the first test capsule was sent down to the 33 trapped miners. Slow journey, lots of test runs and safety checks. The capsule is rib-crushingly narrow and is enough to make even me feel slightly claustrophobic on their behalf. But these are miners, and this tiny little pod is their literal lifeline. So, at ten past midnight, the first miner emerged: thin, filthy and triumphant, his Chilean flag clasped against his chest.
And the count continues.... 27 men safely out in the Chilean sun. When I got home from the school (more on that later), the first thing I did was watch number 26, Claudio Acuna, scramble out of the capsule and into the arms of his wife and daughter, tears making tracks on his dusty face. One brief man-hug with the president later, and he's carted off to hospital with a grin on his face and a thumbs up to the worlds reporters.
These men have endured stifling conditions in a tiny living space, separation from their loved ones, the initial, soul-crushing thought of not being out until December as was originally predicted, not to mention the cave-in that caused it all in the first place. One man celebrated his 40th birthday down there, and another watched his child being born via a video-link.
And yet these men are not depressed or despairing. They celebrate their survival every day, sing the national anthem for the cameras with enthusiasm and pride, and accredit their safety entirely to God. They are resilient, they are hopeful, they are alive. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: The Chilean.
... number 28, Richard Villaroel, is now being welcomed back with applause, and is being greeted by his little sister....
You cannot even imagine the atmosphere in the city today. People have gathered in the main squares, Plaza Italia and Plaza de Armas, and throughout the city, you can hear the celebrations as another miner is successfully rescued. Even on the metro on the way to Rincon de Alegria (the school where I work), one man was listening to the radio on his phone and he cried out to the packed train that another miner was out. The cheering was deafening. Complete strangers have prayed, wept and celebrated for these miners. And the whole nation is buzzing with it. Even as I arrived at Rincon de Alegria, the children ran up to me, arms in the air, saying: ‘Did you see? Did you see? Did you see the rescue?" These children are between four and seven-years-old and they too are full of joy for these men.
Yet I have more cause for rejoicing today. The work at Rincon de Alegria is hard, and the children are from really tough backgrounds, and sometimes this shows in their behaviour. Yesterday I was asked to sit with a little boy because he is disruptive and overly fidgety in class. He is six years old and has the faint remainder of a black eye, and a deep cut on his hand that I somehow doubt was from him falling over. I sat with him and talked with him, quietly encouraged him to get off the table/ stop pulling that girl's hair/ stop trying to pierce a hole in the paint tube with a pencil.
Here in Chile, adults in authority over children are tio/tia (uncle/aunt) and its also normal to call children nino or nina (meaning boy or girl) and it has no negative meaning, its neutral. I recognised that this little boy needed love as well as discipline, and that they go hand in hand. So when I had to tell him off for something, as I explained why it was wrong, I called him amigo (friend). He asked me why I called him amigo. I said, "porque eres mi amigo" (because you are my friend). He seemed confused, and the moment passed.
Later at lunch, I was helping a little girl who simply couldn't master the art of eating rice with a fork, and I overheard the same little boy say to one of his classmates, "la Tia Cat es mi amiga" (Auntie Cat is my friend). Well, that was all yesterday. Today, I sat with him again. And he was happy to see me, and gave me a hug. And when he did something good, I acknowledged it, and when he did something wrong, I explained to my amigo why it was wrong and why I was telling him off.
The last class today was learning shapes. My little amigo was the best behaved in the class, finished his work first, helped his classmates with their work and helped to clear up the art materials. His face was pure happiness and pride as he was awarded his first star on the star chart. Now, that's why I work with these kids. These hurting, angry, tough kids. Because they are kids. Because they are lively and inquisitive, and kind, and over-flowing with love that they don't normally get to express. Because they need a little joy in life, a little pride in themselves, and a little encouragement that we believe in them. Two days made all the difference for my little amigo.
So I will always remember today. Yeah there were challenges, and plenty of them. But look at what has been accomplished today.
Miner number 29, Juan Aguilar, is free.... Four men to go. And then the party will really start...
