Report-Chiapas April 2004

Jane Chen, Tim Cunningham, Rudi Galindo, John Leo, John Leo’s Chihuahua Peaknuckle
We performed for a total of 1860 audience members

Friday, April 16, 2004
Arrived Tuxtla Gutierrez, drove to San Cristobal
stayed at Alexandra’s House, San Cristobal de las Casas
Tuesday, April 20
6pm Colona Paraiso, San Cristobal 150 people
Wednesday, April 21
11a Benito Juarez, San Cristobal 50 children
1p Santo Domingo, San Cristobal 75 people
Thursday, April 22
5p El Cerillo, San Cristobal 100 people
Friday, April 23
Travel to Palenque, 5 hours
Saturday, April 24
12:00 noon Comunidad (Cardenas) Pajonal 50 people
5:00p Comunidad Zaragoza 200 people
Sunday, April 25
9:00a Parque de la Iglesia - Las Playas Catazaha 75 people
1:00p La Casa de Las Playas 50 women
6:00p Comunidad de la Tuza 200 people
Monday, April 26
12 noon Comunidad Bajo Uzumacinto 25 people
7p Barrio Santa Cruz 100 people
Tuesday, April 27
11:00a Cuyo 150 people
5:00p Loma Bonita 300 people
Wednesday, April 28
11:00a Vicente Guerrero 35 people
5:00p El Encanto 150 people
Thursday, April 29
10:00a Calatraba 150 people

Chiapas, Mexico, April 2004:

Fears going to a new place…Almost getting ripped off in the airport…My incredibly bad Spanish…Rudi’s incredibly bad driving…Traveling by boat from one town to the next…Hiking to the next village…Local residents opening up their homes to us… Eating delicious homemade rice and beans…Huge piles of drying chilies…The heat…Sweat incurred from a performance…Washing our costumes daily and hanging them to dry in the sun…Tim’s (nevertheless) smelly pants…Getting attacked by ants during a show…Performing at the intersection of two streets in a village, alongside turkeys and stray dogs…Staying with lovely sisters in their convent…Experimenting with new ways of performing…Watching Tim and John get on local people’s bicycles during a show and ride them around…Alexandra’s lovely house in San Cristobal de las Casas…Evening music jams…John’s dog Peaknuckle and his wonderful tricks…Giving awards to each other our final night in Chiapas…Not wanting to return home…

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There are many lessons I take from my time in Chiapas, my first expedition with Clowns Without Borders, but the biggest lesson is this:
When I was preparing to do this Clowns Without Borders trip, I was nervous about my “clowning ability.” I felt intimidated by the others in the group, especially Rudi who has led many CWB expeditions. I was worried that my clowning would not be good enough. But when I arrived Chiapas and we began performing, traveling to tiny communities who had never seen a live performance before or had anyone ever come visit their village, and when I saw the eagerness of children wanting to talk to us, touch us, stare at us, even mob us…I realized that all my insecurities about clowning didn’t matter. The communities were so excited to have us come and perform for them; it was something truly special and unique. I am fortunate enough to have studied acting and clowning, and fortunate enough to be a performer. The best thing I can do is recognize what I have and share it with others. Why not appreciate myself as much as the beautiful Mexicans appreciated me.

Jane Chen

I have many memories of Chiapas. But my most vivid memory by far is the day that we encountered: El Vaquero…
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It is Monday, April 26, 2004. After performing for the Comunidad Bajo Uzumacinto, we drive to El Barrio Santa Cruz. It is mid-afternoon. We have some down time, so we ask where to get some beer. The locals point us down a road; “Keep walking that way,” they say. So we walk. And walk. And finally, we encounter: a baseball game. So this is where the beer is; it’s the only place you can buy beer on a Sunday. And the entire town is here.
We watch the baseball game; it is two local teams playing each other. They are professionals, wearing baseball uniforms and helmets, donning heavy bats, the real deal. (My first live baseball game.) Of the spectators, men are on one side of the field, and women on another. This gender division fascinates me. We spend a little time on each side; the men say hello to us, and the women dart their eyes and giggle. We tell them to come to our show after the game is over.
We leave the baseball game early to get ready for our show. We are performing on a basketball court down the street. A local woman lets me change in her house, and by the time I return to the basketball court, the other clowns are doing preshow shenanigans and we have an audience: the two baseball teams and everybody that was watching the game. Exciting.
We begin the show. The baseball teams and their fans are enjoying themselves. (Again, women are on one side of the audience, and men on the other.) At some point, a horse trots over. There is a man on the horse: El Vaquero. He is watching our show. I improvise a little – look at him, talk to him, lightly make fun of his cowboy status. Oops. The next thing I know, there is a rope – a lasso – around the trunk where I have just been sitting, and where Tim still sits. El Vaquero signals his horse and the horse starts trotting away and the lasso loop gets smaller and smaller. Everything happens really fast at this point. Rudi yells, “Get your foot out of the LOOOOOOOOP!!!” Tim realizes what is happening, panics, tries to get out of the loop which is around his ankle at this point, but he’s too late. The rope tightens around his ankle and all of a sudden he is contacting dirt, being dragged along the ground by El Vaquero’s obedient horse. About ten men in the audience jump up and grab the rope, trying to stop the horse. They are shouting at El Vaquero to stop. The men somehow stop El Vaquero, and they help Tim out of the lasso and up off the ground. Rudi is coiling up the rope, apparently pissed, because when El Vaquero asks for his rope back, Rudi says no. Then El Vaquero pulls out a machete (!), and at that point, the entire audience gets up and starts running. Me too. An audience member offers to let us hide in his house. Rudi, our fearless leader, says, “No. We would like to finish the show. Will you let everyone know that we are continuing the show?” The local tells everyone to sit back down, and somehow, we resume the show. El Vaquero is in the vicinity, slowly moving away, cooling off, but nowhere near pre-clown-show temperature. He has his lasso back, and has put away his machete. I keep eyeing him as we finish the show. Eventually he rides away.
After the show is over, the locals crowd around us and apologize for what happened with El Vaquero. They explain that he has been drunk for eight days straight. They offer us cold sodas and we chat. We feel happy (and relieved). We are among friends.
We depart, grateful for a happy ending.
You will be pleased to know that Tim currently is alive and well, as are his ankle and spirit. He has also gone on to do many more Clowns Without Borders trips.
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Photos by Jane Chen
Top Illustration: Caroline Park