Author Archives: ana

Old Part Shop

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en castellano más abajo

The Old Part was also the main shopping centre in the city. That was why it was so important to have a shop there, to help get the fair trade ideas and products out there.

Paula advanced among the shopping crowd with some difficulty. Families spending the day out in the mild cold were not in a hurry, while individuals just wanting to reach their chosen shop, or the bar where they would meet their acquaintances, were in a hurry. But the crowds and the narrowness of the pedestrianised streets meant that every one could only advance a very small step at a time.

Paula arrived at the fair trade shop run by mainly one volunteer late, but that did not matter much. The shop was empty and the shop keeper was very much easy going. He acknowledged her with a smile, in silence but already welcoming the first customer of the afternoon.

The shop could not be more different from the car park that pretended to be a shop. This one was almost as small as a corridor, with crammed shelves against the walls, and a small desk pretending to be a counter, behind which was the shop keeper who was now looking at Paula with a kind of grin that could be a smile.

“Hi, I’m Paula. I have come to volunteer”.
“Ah yes, I now recognise you. You were in the big shop, weren’t you, the other day?”
“yes, but I don’t remember you”
“I’m Josu.”
“Hi”
Josu stood up and came out of the counter. He was wearing a green apron that seemed truly horrible to Paula. Then he produced a green apron, identical to the one he was wearing, and said:
“Volunteers here need to wear this”
Paula was horrified, and slightly upset that this had not been notified to her. But then, an apron should not be a reason not to volunteer.
“Can I not wear it?”
“Errmm. Not.” Josu was now only half smiling. “Well, it was kind of decided, by all volunteers.”
“But I don’t remember any one wearing that in the big shop”
“Ah. Different shops, different customs”
“Do you “really” want me to wear that?” Paula tried to conceal her disgust.
“Yes. Please.”
“What could I do to not have to wear that, and still volunteer here?”
“You would have to buy one of those t-shirts with the shop logo and wear it”
Paula looked at the t-shirt he meant. It was grey as the cheap sports t-shirts she had been made to wear in primary school, with the name of the shop in it and a simple colour drawing on the front. It depicted an Earth Globe, but it was cut in the middle, so the Northern and the Southern hemispheres were separated. In between them, there were various people from different races. They were standing on the southern hemisphere and they were holding the northern hemisphere between them. She thought it was a good metaphore.
She was not sure if he was joking or not about the need to purchase it but she was determined to not wear the apron, and the t-shirt was not that bad at all. As she removed the t-shirt from the hanger and placed it on the counter, Josu’s smile told her that he was indeed joking , or at least amused about the whole situation.

Paula paid for the t-shirt, removed her jacket, put her new t-shirt on top of the one she was wearing, looked at herself in the mirror and then up to Josu:

“So. What do I need to do now”?
“We can give out leaflets outside”
Josu took a stack of green small papers from the desk and gave half of them to Paula. They were about Fair Trade and the shop.
After about half an hour giving out leaflets that seemed never to end, Paula asked:
“Is this all we do?”
“No. The next time you give out a leaflet, you need to get the person to come into the shop, and spend at least five thousand pesetas”.
Paula had half-believed he was serious roughly until half his sentence, then she smiled and so did he. There had been no customers since opening that day.
“Is it always like this?”
“Some times we get people.”
A man Paula had given a leaflet a few minutes earlier came back and entered the shop. Josu followed – not a good idea to leave the shop unattended with a potential customer inside. The man browsed around and left. Paula and Josu continued to give out leaflets, occasionally coming inside the shop to sit down and have a rest.

They were in one of those breaks when Jose and Luna arrived for a visit.
“How is it going?”
Josu shrugged.
“As usual.”
Then they looked at Paula and asked her about her first day as a volunteer there. Josu grinned:
“She preferred to buy the t-shirt than wear the apron.”
Luna nodded and smiled: “It ‘is’ horrible, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Paula smiled back. “Are you coming to stay?”
“No, just visiting”, answered Jose. “We were in the flat, now I’m leaving.”
“We are doing up our flat to move in together.” Luna explained. “It’s just a few streets away.”
Luna and Jose exchanged a quick kiss before he left. Then she asked Paula about her background, her story. She wanted to know what brought her to fair trade.
“I’ve always been a Christian, I was raised a Christian”
“So did I”, said Luna smiling. “But now I’m an atheist. And so are you, aren’t you, Josu?”
“Yep. Always been one.”
“Then last year I got confirmation.” Luna smiled and Paula thought she should explain: “It means to say, now I want to be a Christian, not just because I was raised one, but now it’s my decision. And in the parish one condition is to get involved in some volunteering, to put it into practice, you know. And most of the people I know from the parish are in this too.”

Paula wanted to know how came then that these atheists had got involved in what was very much a parish project, but she didn’t feel confident enough. In any case, while she was thinking of this, Luna snapped:

“Josu is single, and he’s looking for a boyfriend. Are you looking for a girlfriend, or a boyfriend?” Josu’s face showed only slight embarrassment behind his usual grin but Paula was left speechless for a few seconds. Then she recovered:

“I am single and not looking for anything, but if I was, I would be looking for a boyfriend. But I’m ok like this.”

castellano

La Vieja Parte era también el centro comercial principal en la ciudad. Por eso era tan importante tener una tienda allí, ayudar a meter las ideas comerciales justas y productos ahí.

Paula avanzó entre la muchedumbre de gente de compras con cierta dificultad. Las familias pasando el día en el frío pero soportable día suave no tenían prisa, mientras que los individuos que sólo quieren alcanzar su tienda elegida, o el bar donde encontrar a sus conocidos, sí tenían. Pero las muchedumbres y la estrechez de las calles peatonalizadas significaron que nadie podría avanzar más de un muy pequeño paso cada vez.

Paula llegó tarde a la tienda de comercio justo dirigida por principalmente un voluntario, pero esto no importó mucho. La tienda estaba vacía y el encargado de la tienda era muy tranquilo. La reconoció con una sonrisa, en el silencio, pero ya celebrando al primer cliente de la tarde.

La tienda no podía ser más diferente del parking que quería ser una tienda. Era casi tan pequeña como un pasillo, con estantes contra las paredes abarrotados, y una pequeña mesa haciendo de mostrador, detrás del cual el encargado de la tienda miraba ahora a Paula con una especie de mueca que podría ser una sonrisa.

“Hola, soy Paula. He venido para ofrecerme de voluntaria”.
“Ah sí, ahora te reconozco. ¿Estaba en la tienda grande, no, el otro día?”
“Sí, pero no sé, no te recuerdo.”
“Soy Josu.”
“Hola.”
Josu se levantó y salió del mostrador. Él llevaba puesto un delantal verde que pareció realmente horrible a Paula. Entonces él sacó un delantal verde, idéntico al que que él llevaba puesto, y dijo:
“Los voluntarios aquí tienen que llevar puesto esto.”
Paula fue horrorizada, y ligeramente molesta porque nadie le había dicho nada de esto. Pero bueno, un delantal no debería ser una razón para no ser voluntario.
¿“Puedo no llevarlo puesto?”
“Errmm. No.” Josu estaba ahora sólo medio sonriendo. “Bien, se ha decidido, por todos los voluntarios.”
“Pero no recuerdo que nadie lo usara en la tienda grande”
“Ah. Tiendas diferentes, costumbres diferentes.”
¿“”Realmente” quieres que lleve puesto esto? ”Paula trató de ocultar su repugnancia.
“Sí. Por favor. ”
¿“Qué podría yo hacer no para tener que llevar puesto esto, y todavía ofrecerme aquí?”
“tendrías que comprar una de esas camisetas con el logotipo de la tienda y llevarla puesta”

Paula miró la camiseta que quería decir. Era gris como las camisetas deportivas baratas que a ella le habían hecho ponerse en la escuela primaria, con el nombre de la tienda en ella y un simple dibujo en la parte frontal. Mostraba un Globo de la Tierra, pero estaba cortado por el medio, entonces los hemisferios del Norte y del Sur estaban separados. En medio de ellos, había varias personas de razas diferentes. Ellos estaban de pie sobre el hemisferio del sur y sostenían el hemisferio norte entre ellos. Ella pensó que era una buena metáfora.

Ella no estaba segura si él bromeara o no sobre la necesidad de comprarlo pero estaba decidida a no llevar el delantal, y la camiseta no estaba tan mal en absoluto. Cuando ella quitó la camiseta de la percha y lo colocó en el contador, la sonrisa de Josu le dijo que efectivamente estaba bromeando, o al menos que la situación entera le divirtió.

Paula pago para la camiseta, se quitó su chaqueta, se puso su nueva camiseta encima de la que ella llevaba puesta, se miró en el espejo y luego a Josu:
“Bien. ¿Qué tengo que hacer ahora”?
“Podemos repartir folletos fuera”
Josu tomó una pila de pequeños papeles verdes del escritorio y dio la mitad de ellos a Paula. Eran sobre el Comercio Justo y la tienda.
Después de aproximadamente media hora repartir folletos que parecieron terminarse nunca, Paula preguntó:
¿“Es todo lo que hacemos?”
“No. La próxima vez que regalas un folleto, tienes que conseguir que la persona entre en la tienda, y gaste por lo menos cinco mil pesetas”.
Paula había medio creído que él iba en serio aproximadamente hasta la mitad de su frase, y entonces ella sonrió y él también . No hubo ningunos clientes desde la apertura ese día.
“Es siempre así?”
“Algunas veces entra gente.”
Un hombre Paula había dado un prospecto unos minutos antes volvió y entró en la tienda. Josu le siguió – no una idea buena de dejar la tienda desatendida con un cliente potencial dentro. El hombre hojeó alrededor y se marchó.
Paula y Joshua siguieron a repartir folletos, entrando en ocasiones dentro de la tienda para sentarse y descansar.

Ellos estaban en una de aquellos descansos cuando Jose y Luna llegaron para una visita.
“¿qué tal?”
Josu se encogió de hombros.
“Como de costumbre.”
Entonces ellos miraron a Paula y le preguntaron sobre su primer día como un voluntario allí. Josu sonrió abiertamente:
“Ella prefirió comprar la camiseta que ponerse el delantal.”
Luna asintió y sonrió: “‘ ¿es’ horrible, verdad?”
“Sí.” Paula sonrió también. ¿“Venis para quedaros?”
“No, sólo visitando”, contestó Jose. “Estábamos en el apartamento, ahora me marcho.”
“Arreglamos una buhardilla para vivir en ella juntos.” Luna explicó. “está sólo a unas pocas calles de aqui.”
El Luna y Jose intercambiaron un beso rápido antes de que él se marchara. Entonces ella preguntó a Paula sobre su historia. Ella quiso saber lo que le trajo al comercio justo.
“Siempre he sido un cristiano, creci siendo cristiano ”
“yo tambien”, dijo Luna sonriendo. “Pero ahora soy atea. ¿Y tu también, no Josu? ”
“Sí. Siempre lo he sido.”
“Entonces el año pasado me confirme.” El Luna sonrió y Paula pensó que ella debería explicar: “”que significa decir, ahora quiero ser cristiano, no sólo porque así me han educado, sino que ahora es mi decisión. Y en la parroquia una condición es participar en algún voluntariado, para ponerla en práctica, ya sabes. Y la mayor parte de la gente que conozco de la parroquia está en esto también.”
Paula quería saber cómo llegaron estos ateos a lo que era muy mucho un proyecto de la parroquia, pero no se sintió bastante confidente En cualquier caso, mientras que ella estaba pensando en esto, Luna espetó:

“Josu está solo, busca a un novio. Y tu Estás buscando una novia o un novio?”
La cara de Josu mostró vergüenza sólo leve detrás de su sonrisa habitual pero pero Paula se quedó sin habla durante unos segundos. Luego ella se recuperó:
““Estoy sola y no busca nada, pero buscara, estaría buscando un novio. “Pero estoy bien así”.

Meet Mercadeco

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en castellano más abajo

Evento en el sotano / Event in the basement

The entrance to the underground car park was so unpretentious it was almost hidden away. Paula required to be guided there as she would not have seen the gate otherwise.

Said gate was plain and grey, the same as the rest of the wall on that side of the building. She could see there was a gate there because it was open. Ara and her had arranged to meet at a time when Ara knew the shop that now lived in the car park would be open.

As they descended the ramp used by cars and possibly lorries in other times, Paula was hit by a strong coffee smell.

– We are grinding coffee, – explained Ara. – We could not get the company that roasts the coffee to grind it as well so we are doing that little by little in a home grinder.

And then it was when Paula heard the grinder, in the distance. She looked out for it when they reached the shop level but she did not see it. What she saw was a massive shop with a very high ceiling that could not hide the car park that the premises always had been. The smell of freshly ground coffee was strong, but so was the feeling of dust and car fumes.

The lines separating the car parking spaces were covered by tables which in turn were covered in Central and South American handicrafts and products like chocolate, honey or sugar. The walls, on their first two metres, were covered by cupboards and wardrobes. These had more handicrafts and more packaged food. On top of the cupboards and wardrobes, there were giant posters with giant drawings. Paula wanted to look at them and understand them, but Ara wanted to introduce her to the other volunteers in the shop. So Paula could only quickly glance at one of the posters that depicted a big fat white man in a suit and tall hat eating a giant cake, while a small crowd of small, squalid, almost naked black people, clamoured for the scraps.

“This is Luna”, said Ara.

Paula looked at Luna while Ara introduced them and then proceeded to have a conversation with Luna. Luna was so unlike any one else Paula had even known in her life. She donned glasses, the thick and broad type. This made her look so young, yet everything else radiated so much maturity and self esteem. Luna smiled at Paula and then naturally proceeded to be nice to both of them.

Paula could not quite catch what Ara and Luna were talking about, she just got the feeling they were talking administration stuff about the shop. Then Luna went on to whatever she was doing when Paula and Ara arrived, and Ara got into the office, a five square meter compartment inside the car park with a small window towards it. It looked like the kind of cabin where a middle manager would perform a final supervision to vehicles leaving the premises or an initial one to incoming ones. Now it was the office where the paperwork was done for this newly formed fair trade shop and imported.

So Paula was left alone to inspect the shop. It was more like a massive storage space than a shop, although things were displayed for purchase, both in small and in big quantities. That was for the main parking space. There was a small section with a much lower ceiling that would not have been suitable for even a small van, and a café space had been installed there. There were small round tables, each with four chairs around it, and a bar. Paula admired the coffee machine, which made the place feel like it could be any “normal” bar or café.

There were groups of young people that she had seen around in the parish, and groups of older women she had never seen. Then the priest walked past the tables, speaking to almost every one, but he went so quickly he could not really maintain any conversation with any one. But then he passed many times, from the back room to the office, and back again.

Paula wanted to examine the giant drawings on the wall, that extended for about three metres from the top of the furniture to the ceiling. There was one about GATTS. GATTS was/ had been one of the subjects in university. According to the teacher (apparently it was such a new thing the text books did not cover it yet), it was a collaborative initiative between countries to stop taxing each other’s products, so it would be easier for every one to import and export products from each other.

Now this giant chart said GATTS was a bad thing. It was a graphic depicting some countries, not all, but USA and a few African countries were included. With bars, it showed how much better off each of those countries as a result of the last round of negotiations was. Apparently USA had very much benefited from this, and the African countries’ benefits were a thick black line below the zero line, so they were worse off.

The motor of the coffee grinder stopped its roar and a young man appeared from the back room, through a door that was not a door, but a wide gap between the wardrobes at the end of the shop and the wall behind the bar. Luna appeared back into Paula’s vision range as she approached the newcomer:

“This is Jose. This is Paula. She may become a volunteer with us.”
“Hi”
“Hi, that’s great. Luna, do you remember where you have left …”

Paula went back to her browsing as their conversation faded away.

“Hey, would you like some coffee”? Luna was asking Paula.
“Hmmm, I don’t drink coffee”
“You can drink something else, come, we’re going to have something here”
as if to back up Luna’s words, Ara emerged from the office and sat at one of the tables. Jose and Luna sat with her.
“Have you seen our coffee machine?”
Yes, impressive! Like in a proper coffee shop!
“It was donated.”
“Wow”
“By a volunteer, from their own bar”
“I don’t drink coffee, but I would love to learn to use it and make coffees”
This was met with silence and Paula sensed that she would have to do some merit to achieve that.
“Think about what shifts you would like to do here. Or there is the shop in the Old Part”
“Sure. I think I will go there. What’s the address?”

castellano

La entrada al parking subterráneo tenía tan pocas pretensiones que casi estaba escondida. Paula necesitó que la llevaran para llegar, o n ohabría visto la puerta, de otro modo.

La puerta dicha era simple y gris, lo mismo que el resto de la pared en aquel lado del edificio. Solo pudo ver que había una puerta allí porque estaba abierta. Ara y ella habían quedado en encontrarse a una hora en la que Ara sabía que la tienda que ahora estaba en el aparcamiento estaría abierta.

Cuando bajaban la rampa usada utilizada por coches y posiblemente camiones en otros tiempos, a Paula le golpeó un fuerte olor a café.

-Estamos Moliendo café, – explicó Ara. – No pudimos conseguir que la empresa que tuesta el café lo muela también, así que lo estamos haciendo poco a poco en un molinillo casero.

Y entonces fue cuando Paula escuchó el molinillo, en la distancia. Lo buscó cuando alcanzaron el nivel de la tienda, pero no lo vio. Lo que vio fue una tienda enorme con un techo muy alto que no podía ocultar el aparcamiento que siempre habían sido el local. El olor a café recién molido era fuerte, pero pero también lo era la sensación del polvo y humos de automóviles.

Las líneas que separaban el aparcamiento estaban cubiertas por mesas que a su vez estaban cubiertas con productos como chocolate, miel o azúcar y artesanías de América del Sur. Las paredes, en sus dos primeros metros, estaban cubiertas de armarios y estanterías. Estos tenían más artesanías y más alimentos envasados. Por encima de los armarios y estanterías, había carteles gigantescos con dibujos gigantes. Paula quería mirarlos y entenderlos pero Ara quería presentarle a los otros voluntarios de la tienda. Así que Paula sólo pudo echar un vistazo rápido a uno de los carteles, que presentaba a un gran hombre blanco gordo con traje y sombrero de copa comiendo un pastel gigante, mientras una pequeña multitud de gente negra, pequeña, escuálida, casi desnuda, clamaba por los restos.

“Esta es Luna”, dijo Ara.

Paula miró Luna mientras les presentó Ara los introdujo y luego se unió a la conversación con Luna. Luna era muy diferente de cualquier otra persona que Paula había conocido en su vida. Llevaba gafas, gruesas y grandes. Esto la hacía parecer tan joven, pero aún todo lo demás irradiaba tanta madurez y autoestima. Luna sonrió a Paula y luego procedió naturalmente a ser agradable para ambas.

Paula no pudo entender completamente de qué hablaban Ara y Luna; sólo tuvo la sensación de que hablaban de cosas de administración de la tienda. Entonces Luna continuó con lo que había estaco haciendo cuando llegaron Paula y Ara, y Ara entró en la oficina, un compartimento de cinco metros cuadrados dentro del aparcamiento con una pequeña ventana hacia él. Parecía el tipo de cabina donde un gerente medio realizaría una supervisión final a los vehículos que salieran o una inicial a los entrantes. Ahora era la oficina donde se hacían los papeleos para esta recién formada importadora y tienda de comercio justo.

Así que Paula se quedó sola y pudo inspeccionar la tienda. Era más un almacén enorme que una tienda, aunque habia cosas expuesta para su venta, tanto en pequeñas como en grandes cantidades. Ese era el aparcamiento principal. Había una pequeña sección con un techo mucho más bajo que no hubiera sido adecuado ni para una pequeña furgoneta, y un espacio de cafetería se había instalado allí. Había pequeñas mesas redondas, cada una con cuatro sillas alrededor, y una barra. Paula admiró la máquina de café, que hacían parecer al lugar como podría ser cualquier bar “normal” o café.

Había grupos de gente joven que Paula había visto por la parroquia y grupos de mujeres mayores a las que nunca había visto. Entonces pasó el cura hablando a casi todo el mundo, pero lo pasó tan rápidamente que realmente no pudo mantener una conversación con nadie. Pero luego pasó muchas veces, desde la trastienda a la oficina, y atrás otra vez.

Paula quiso examinar los dibujos gigantescos de la pared, que se extendía unos tres metros desde la parte superior de los muebles hasta el techo. Había uno sobre los GATT. Los GATT eran / habían sido una de las asignaturas en la universidad. Según el profesor (por lo visto era tan nueva que los libros de texto no lo cubrían aún), era una iniciativa de colaboración entre países para dejar de cobrar impuestos arancelarios unos a otros, y así hacer más fácil para cada uno para importar y exportar productos entre sí.

Ahora este cuadro gigante decía que los GATT eran una cosa mala. Esto era un gráfico que representa a algunos países, no todos, pero incluía a Estados Unidos y algunos países africanos. Con barras, mostraba cómo se beneficiaba cada uno de esos países como resultado de la última ronda de negociaciones. Al parecer Estados Unidos se habían beneficiado mucho de esto, y los beneficios de los países africanos eran una línea negra gruesa por debajo de la línea cero, así que su mejora había sido “negativa”; Paula entendió que habían salido perjudicados.

El motor del molinillo de café detuvo su rugido y apareció un hombre joven desde la trastienda, por una puerta que no era una puerta, un amplio hueco entre los armarios al final de la tienda y la pared detrás de la barra. Luna apareció de nuevo en rango de visión de Paula cuando se acercó al recién llegado:

“Este es Jose. Esta es Paula. Ella puede que se haga voluntaria con nosotros.”
“Hola.”
“Hola, genial. Luna, recuerdas donde has dejado … ”
Paula siguió mirando carteles y su conversación se desvaneció.

“Hey, ¿tomamos un café?” Luna estaba preguntando a Paula.
“Hmmm, no bebo café.”
“Puedes tomar otra cosa, ven que vamos a tomar algo aquí”
Como si para respaldar las palabras de Luna, Ara emergió de la oficina y se sentó en una de las mesas. Jose y Luna se sentaron con ella.
“¿Has visto nuestra máquina de café?”
¡Sí, impresionante! ¡Como en una buena cafetería!
“Fue donado”
“Ala”
“Por un voluntario, de su propio barra”
“No bebo café, pero me encantaría aprender a utilizarlo y hacer cafés”
Esto fue recibido con silencio y Paula sintió que iba a tener que hacer algún mérito para lograr ese objetivo.
“Piensa qué turnos querrías hacer aquí. O está la tienda en la Parte Vieja.”
“Seguro. Creo que voy a ir allí. ¿Cuál es la dirección?”

Decisions at 20

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No one in her family, and even less so her boyfriend, ever understood
this choice. If everything got according to plan, after a few group
sessions with friends and family members of ex-drug-addicts, Paula would
be allocated one of these ex-offenders to accompany them about four
hours at a time. the idea was to never leave them alone.

However, things did not go according to plan. Paula spent a whole year
attending those groups. Then one day she voiced her impatience to one of
the women she befriended there, who had a friend “in the program”:
“You know, I don’t think it is anything against you, or that they don’t
think you are prepared, at all. I think it is just that they want the
boys to manage with just their family and friends, without relaying on
“external” people like you.
“Hmmm. Why do I have the feeling that I am wasting my time here then?”
“I’m sure you are learning lots of things in those group sessions.”
“I have indeed learned a lot. No doubt about that. But I want to make
myself useful.”

Paula started to search for other volunteering possibilities. After
spending one year in group sessions that had nothing to do with the
religion that brought her over to get involved in the first place, she
wanted to join something with lots of Christians in it.

One of those Christians was Ara.

“So, how is your Proyecto Hombre going?”
“It is actually not going anywhere” (interrogating face by Ara). “It turns out, they don’t want volunteers like me after all. They prefer friends and family to do all that work.”
“Hmmm. Who has told you that?”
“One of those friends and families.”
“Hmmm. Have you checked with any one else?”
“No. But I have been going to those groups for a year and I haven’t been told to accompany anyone once.”
“So, what now?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to take on groups of confirmants, but after a year of non-religious talk, I feel like getting back to a Christian group now.
“Hey, have you heard of Salva!?” Suddenly Ara’s face changed to one of an excited teenager.
“No. Who is Salva?”
“Salvador. Padre Salvador. He left a few years ago to be a missionary in Peru, don’t you remember?”
“Vaguely.”
“He’s back!”
“I didn’t know that.”
“He’s been talking about opening a shop to sell Peruvian handicrafts, and even coffee, as a means to aid them, instead of charity.”
“I’m all ears.” And she certainly was.
“Look, he says that all problems about third world poverty happen because their products are not paid by rich countries at a fair price. So he wants to help with all that by opening up a shop, in the car park of the parish, which is unused now, and he is going to bring products from Peru and most of the parish is involved in that now. Ok, there are three new people that Salva has found somewhere, who are a bit atheist, but apart from those three, we are all from the Parish!”
Paula wondered how came she had not heard anything about this and she guessed she had been studying too much, going out with her boyfriend too much and attending too many ex-drug-addicts-friends-and-family-self-help group meetings. But now she felt the excitement too. She did not need any insistence from Ara to decide to get involved in this shop. Fair Trade, Ara had said.
Paula and her boyfriend had planned a whole weekend together. But Paula could not wait until then to tell him the news:
“I am leaving Proyecto Hombre.”
“Wow. That makes me so happy. Now you will have more time for yourself, which I think you needed.”
“Erm, no. I am getting involved in Fair Trade instead.”
“What? And what is that, fair trade?”
“Something that will require my volunteering about three or four hours a week.”
“God. This is so tiring.”
“What is tiring?”
“You go to class, you stay in studying most evenings, and the evenings you are not studying, you go to those groups. And now this. Are you not exhausted?”
“Exhausted?” Paula wished her boyfriend could jump at the possibility of spending more time together by volunteering with her. After all, there were other people from outside the Parish too. But somehow, that seemed unattainable.
“I don’t suppose you have the intention to go on like this once we are married, do you?”
“Eh? Of course I do. And it will be lovely to have your support.”
“Uhm. And yourself?”
“What about myself?”
“Well, looking after yourself, having time for yourself? I don’t see you
have much time to enjoy yourself.”
“But I have all the time for myself. All the time I spent in those
groups, I was enjoying, I hope to enjoy the time with Ara and the others
in that shop and I even enjoy studying! The whole day is time for
myself! Of course if you volunteered with me I would enjoy it even mo…”
“And the house? When are you going to do the cleaning?”
“What cleaning?”
“When we get married. If you go on like this, when are you going to have
time to clean the house?”
Admittedly, she had not thought of these insignificant, trivial
practicalities.
“On weekends, with you, I suppose.”
“No. The house needs cleaning every day, Paula.”
She was left shocked and speechless.
“I suppose we need to talk about this.”
“Look Paula, let’s do this: let’s cancel this weekend and instead think
about this separately. After that, we can talk. Shall we do that?”
“And when will we talk?”
“We can talk on the phone again.”
“You talk as if you were thinking about the future of our relationship.”
“Yes, that too.”

Decisions at 19

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Paula sat in front of the television set. She had put the video tape
that Carlos the History teacher had lent her and a middle aged man was
talking about the perils of a career in journalism. It was all about the
immediacy of the news story, having to write really quickly, to deliver
a story that had been demanded at 3am that morning, when his boss had
called him at home because an incident was happening right then and he
had to go and cover it.
That was enough for Paula.
Her boyfriend had already asked her to marry him, and Paula was
absolutely sure he would not be happy at all with a wife running out
of the house at three in the morning to cover some news. Besides, to
study journalism she would have to stay in university for five years,
and that if she successfully passed all exams in time. Her boyfriend had
already expressed annoyance at the length of Paula’s studies.
Paula was not so much in a hurry to marry her boyfriend as she was to
move out of home. In any case, a course that would take five years to
finish would not fit her needs. That left out almost all university
possibilities. Of those remaining, only two seemed attractive enough for
her: teaching and business studies.
“There are fewer and fewer children all the time, you know?”, Said Laura
on the phone, when Paula commented these possibilities. “There are
already too many teachers. You’ll just be unemployed when you finish”.
Voila, decision made. Business studies it would be.

She actually did like the prospect of going for business studies. She
had the feeling that it was business and world economics that were the
culprit of all those starving children her Granma kept talking about
every time there was potatoes for lunch. Now she would learn how it all
worked, and that way she would try to fix it all. Or at least she would
understand why every one who had tried before her had failed so miserably.
The paperwork for University began right after all the students got the
results for the final 10 or so exams that they had to take in two days.
One exam after the other is what Paula and a million or two other youth
in Spain that year – like many other years anyway – for two full days.
The results of these exams were decisive for the path they would be
allowed to choose. Of course more desirable courses would require a
higher result. Paula got good enough results for all her choices, even
the more “difficult” ones. To the dismay of her teachers and her own
mother, she stuck with the decision she had made in June: Business
Studies, three years.
“You are only going to study half a course”, Mum kept repeating. Yep.
That’s the idea. Get the hell out of here as soon as possible.
Paula liked to stick to her decisions, even if these were unpopular. “Especially” if these were unpopular.
Continuing to be a Christian, also known in catholic circles as “taking
up confirmation” was one of these decisions, although, unlike her
studies, this did please Paula’s mother.
Being a Christian in Paula’s parish was no small deal. Especially
because young people taking up confirmation had to also “take up a
commitment”, which in more lay terms meant to volunteering for some kind
of social (or religious) service.
Most of the confirmed people in Paula’s parish took on groups of younger
people who would eventually be confirmed as well. It was a matter of
pupils taking on teaching. It seemed the easiest option and priests and
older committed parishioners would not demand more. Then, against every
one’s wishes, including the Priest and her own mother, Paula took on
volunteering in the local drug-addict-help centre. She was nineteen.

Decisions at 18

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Paula sat on her desk looking at the forms. Carlos, the History teacher, had given out auto-help forms that were supposed to “tell” the pupils what university course best suited their personalities and capabilities. The test assumed things like, in order to do social work, it was required a lesser intellectual capacity than to be an economist.
Paula was not too sure about this assumption, and she was even less sure about her own personal results. The test told her she had enough capacity to be an economist, but not enough to be a doctor, certainly more than enough to be a social worker. It encouraged her, however, to pursue a career as a social worker, as she had shown so much compassion and care for others.
Paula was certain of just one thing, and she hadn’t needed the test to find out. She agreed with most of her classmates that 17 is far too young an age to make a decision that will mark the rest of your life.
Carlos, the History teacher, looked at her. The whole class was drawn in group conversations, every one seemed to be talking at the same time.
Some students were outraged at the results, some where excited. Paula just sat there looking at the forms in silence.
“Can’t make up your mind?”
“I wanted to study Journalism. It hasn’t even turned up as a possibility.”
“Well, this is only a test that is supposed to help you. At the end, it is your decision.”
Paula made a face that expressed “What you have just said doesn’t help me much”.
“Have you seen the videos about careers?” It was a rhetorical question.
“What videos?” Carlos, the History teacher, was kind of used to pupils not listening to his explanations, so he ignored the question and handed one of the videos to Paula.
“Here, a video about Journalism. It has journalists talking about their work. It may help.”

Paula said thanks to the teacher, but this posed yet another challenge. Her parents had refused to acquire a video player and they were not going to buy one just so that she could watch this video.
Of course in those times, there were not video players available to students at school. She hoped to watch it at her boyfriend’s.

On her way home, Paula decided to disregard the tests and make her decision based on whatever the video would tell her her about journalism, whatever facts she could find about economics and social work, and whatever her boyfriend would say.

Beans and Potatoes

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The potatoes stayed still on the plate, together with the untouched beans. Steam had been coming out of them, but by now they were no longer
so hot. Paula stared at them, completely
immobile, for so long, her mother asked:
“What’s wrong with the potatoes.”
“I don’t like them”.

In fact she did not dislike them; it was the beans that were more of a problem. Paula thought they were tasteless and paper-like, but even she would not say such a harsh thing to the cooks. And she was not allowed to put more salt on them. Not that her ten years of age would have granted her the ability to think of such possibility.
“What do you mean, you don’t like them!” roared Grandma. “If we had had them during the war! That’s when we had truly needed them, no one would even think of saying they didn’t like them then. That was proper hunger.”
“More hunger in the post-war, there was”, said Mum. “We were more hungry after the war than during the war itself.”
“Have I ever told you about this man”, continued Grandma, “who was caught eating potato peelings from a bin? From a bin!”
Mum and Grandma interchanged stories from the war once more , about how there was not a single fat person in the city, about the ration cards and the food black market. In the meantime, Paula thought: “if the potato peelings were all right for that guy, why are they not good enough for us now, why do we have to peel them?”
“May there not be another one”, said Mum. That was her ending phrase.
All the way, Paula’s food remained untouched.
“Come on, please eat”, said Grandma, now addressing Paula. “Do it for the starving children in Africa, who have nothing to eat”.

The scene described so far repeated itself pretty regularly well into Paula’s teens. In fact, it would be repeated every time there were potatoes with beans for lunch in Paula’s home, so the whole business of starvation during war, and even more so during post-war, of people having to eat potato peelings from bins, of rationing and black markets, was properly ingrained in Paula’s brain for the rest of her life.

There was another event, however, in Paula’s early life, that left a similar print, even though it only happened once. It was in school. Every year, the nuns in charge of the girls brought a missionary to the all-girl school where Paula spent the first ten of her education. This missionary would spend about an hour speaking to each class in the school. Every year the stories would be similar. Children having to walk bare foot all day, also having to walk for hours and hours in order to go to their school, which consisted of a bare building with no benches if they were lucky, or some benches under the trees if they were not, and which happened to be at the other side of the jungle. Parents who could not afford to send their children to school, but who, thanks to the miracles performed by missionaries like the one talking to them now, now they could. Then at the end of the talk, the missionary would ask for small donations. Of course children Paula’s age were not allowed to carry money around with them in those days. So they would ask their parents for money that evening and they would bring some coins the following day, for the nuns to give to these missionaries.
One year, the nun in charge of Paula’s class had a brilliant idea, and said a brilliant phrase that would stay ingravited in Paula’s head for the rest of her youth. The nun observed that some of the girls gave quite big amounts of money for their age. She thanked them but scorned them for doing this only when moved by the missionary’s stories. “From now and in a few days, you will forget all about those poor children. You thought a lot about them yesterday, and will probably think about them today. But you will have forgotten by tomorrow. We should not forget. We should think about those children every day.”
It was far more a rebellious determination, the desire to simply prove that old witch wrong, than pious feeling, what made Paula decide to “think about those children every day”.