In it’s first preview performance, The Coffee Dance premiered in an event to celebrate International Women’s Day at the Centro Costarricense de Producción Cinematográfica in San José, Costa Rica.

The screening was a special event because the women who’d allowed me into their lives for over a year were bused in to see it. It was a joy to see them laugh and cry as their own story showed on the big screen. In the film - a story that winds the story of coffee, human rights, and self-empowerment - the women sing a song, Las Casas de Carton. The song has become an emotional anthem to much of Latin America in the fight and struggle against so much poverty in its land.

After tasting a bit of coffee themselves, the women gathered for another round of the song. They’re a polished group of performers now, and their high energy sang out.

The Coffee Dance will start it’s own journey to more screenings and previews. I’ll keep you posted on times and locations.

A special thanks goes to the Centro Costarricense de Producción Cinematográfica for sponsoring the event. Also a special thanks to Gail Nystrom from the Costa Rican Humanitarian Foundation for all her work not only with the women on a daily basis, but in her help in organizing this event and much of the background foundation for the film. Also a thanks goes to Steven Hawkins from Dramatic Problem Solving for his extra help in the film, and especially for this event with the Spanish translation.

Pictured: Laura Molina, me, Steven Hawkins, Gail Nystrom, Roberto García, and Vannia Alvarado.

To celebrate International Woman’s Day on March 8, 2010, the Centro Costarricense de Producción Cinematográfica del Ministerio de Cultura y Juventud in San José, Costa Rica will present, The Coffee Dance, a documentary film about a group of women in La Carpio, Costa Rica struggling to not improve their lives, but the lives of others.

The Coffee Dance was inspired by the amazing ability of women laden with a difficult life who decide they can rise to the challenge of helping poorer women and children that work in the coffee fields. We follow the women for a year in Costa Rica to see who they achieve this goal while also following them inside their own lives to understand the struggles they face.

The Coffee Dance

In the midst of chaotic lives and poverty, a group of women from La

Carpio, Costa Rica rise to meet the challenge of helping others in

need. Looking to move their lives to a new level of empowerment,

the women decide to put on a play and give outreach to other women and children.

Breast cancer and other forms of cancer strike women

in poverty, often more cases appear to women picking coffee. An intense

and laborious job, most families are left without resources to prevent

and detect illness. The La Carpio women, even while facing their own

struggles to put food on the table and educate their own children, take

a grand initiative and set out to educate some of the poorest Costa

Ricans and immigrant workers doing the hard physical

labor in the fields.

We follow the women for a year as they move from

script to curtain call. The Costa Rican Humanitarian Foundation of Costa Rica

coordinated the play’s production along with theater director Steven Hawkins.

We hear and see from the women, the directors,and others involved about

the profound difference that planting seedswith positive tools, hope, and

empowerment can change one community with the hopes of effecting others.

Follow these women into their lives and experience their feelings as they take on

the challenge of changing their own lives as well as the lives of others.

The Coffee Dance was a labor of love and provided more life lessons to me than I could have imagined. After several documentary radio projects and short video production work, a documentary film - one of my favorite genres - was a perfect extension to my work. It took a year to film and about nine months to edit.

I will be providing photos and information on how the event went. The Coffee Dance is then scheduled to hit a few theaters for screening and will be sent off to enter film competitions through out the world with an ultimate goal of distribution and availability for every one to see.

Maybe a moment’s reflection before we take that first sip of coffee of gratitude for the souls that suffer and toil to bring us this golden bean will help enlighten and bring a glimmer of hope and peace back to them.

Hundreds of large, black ants scurried out of the squirt holes of the bidet when I turned the water on. Every night, these creatures left their nest in search of food and flooded my bathroom. Needless to say, at one in the morning, this can be annoying and even dangerous as their bite is a lot worse than their bark.

In narrowed down the nest site when I watched the window for many evenings and saw no trail begin there. I taped up holes for the drainage in the bidet, and the ant stream dwindled to nothing that night. The next day, I saw a crud of crumbly, “nesty” stuff protruding for the drain. Since we do not use the bidet as their is a toilet and two showers in this bathroom (as well as three other bathrooms in the house), I turned on the water. What I saw next should be saved for reading when one is not eating anything cream-colored.

Oval eggs, the hatch-ling (do we use that word for unborn ants??), spilled into the bidet. Big and small black ants followed, some as if they were going down a giant wet slide. What to do?

Costa Rica is alive. And keeping it outside is impossible. Maybe calling the fumigating guys with the “bug-earred’ cars is an option, but who wants to breath that in once a week? The bathroom is connected to the bedroom and the kids use this bathroom all the time due to the tub. I’d like to just remove the bidet, but I’m renting. I’m a little nervous even if we do find a way to get rid of the ants, that crumbly next stuff and ant poop will begin to rot.

So the challenge goes on. The cockroaches have returned and I am sure hunt the ants through the night. It’s kind of a creepy place, my bathroom, even with the cute decorator baskets and matching towels. It’s a horror film at night. Maybe this is a job for duct tape!

Watching the new National Stadium go up in San José, had finally gotten interesting. The old, crumbling stadium was torn down, which left a big pit of dirt. Bit by bit, an arc has appeared out of the sky.

A rendering of what the park will look like can be seen at this link. I must say, it’s going to be quite the place for Costa Rica. Of course building an event center that is estimated to hold about 35,000 people is presenting some problems. Parking is the first that comes to mind. There’s barely enough room now in this area to put the cars that bring families, soccer players, and those who are out to enjoy the park on a Saturday. And a Shakira concert? One article I read said there’s only about 400 spaces available now.

The Chinese government is funding the project. As Addison and I walked by the construction, gaggles of men stood upon scaffolding. And then, a huge shout began and it echoed throughout the site. We looked up and saw a group of Costa Rican workers in the back of a rickety old truck, yelling to the Chinese workers. They yelled back - a cultural exchange that surpassed the language barriers.

A cool breeze. Some days we just wait for a cool breeze to swing by and pass for a moment of relief. Then, perhaps, the rest of the day will be more bearable.

The poorest of neighbors suffer from lack of water, paved roads, and enough telephone lines, and trash pick up, yet they also lack trees. As we sweat and toil in our condos and homes I can’t help but think of those tin houses baking in the afternoon sun all throughout Costa Rica.

Planting a tree to save the planet is a noble idea, but maybe we can move it in - more close and personal - and think how planting a tree for another will help make the afternoon a little easier to bear.

MotherJungle was just included in the “What the World Eats” project. A photo from MotherJungle appears with a table full of the food we typically eat in one week.

It is interesting, challenging, and fun thing to do with the family. When our organic produce arrived for the week, we some how managed to get most of it on the table without breaking anything.

Today, I’d have to say we still eat most of what’s in view. I admittedly got into the habit of a few-too-many sugary snacks and indulged in potato chips for awhile after this photo. But I am thrilled to say I got back on track to better health, and if I surmise what’s in view, today we can easily add a quarter more vegetables. I’ve dug out my dehydrator and love making “veggie” chips for the kids. Though I still haven’t gotten my daughter to down the avocado/alfalfa smoothies I’ve taken a liking too….I’m working on her. Addison, on the other hand, loves guacamole.

For a good honest look at what we eat - and spend - try writing down every thing the family eats for a week. The “What the World Eats” inventory challenge list may surprise you and, hopefully, enlighten you.

Although I only stopped in for a pair of shoes, but I considered buying this. Then, every time my son knocks over the flower vase with stale water or my daughter whines about her homework or the money runs out of the checking account when I thought I had enough….I can remember him.

He must have had a really, really, really bad day.

Coming to terms with Barney has been a long road, a journey of acceptance. He’s easy to single-out, pick-on, and laugh at. Just his color gets parents going. The room is often split: There are those that will cry out that the program is too simple - we should be challenging kids; there are others that have a pile of Barney stuffed animals, books, videos, and many more trinkets in their kid’s room.

Addison loves Barney. He dances to the purple sensation and repeats all the songs. In fact, Barney was one of his first, super-clear words. How can I get mad at IT now? In Costa Rica, these figures on television are adored from Barney to Mickey to Pooh. The money is not, and cannot, be spent on all the commercial products like in other countries, but a cheap backpack is never far from reach.

As my two children get older, I do things that the “pre-mother” person would have been amazed at. Surely I would sided with the “corporate greed taking over our kids’ minds” and “isn’t is talking down to kids?” argument. A few years later, I cannot say I love Barney - fond of perhaps - but I can sing all the songs (in English and Spanish!). And I even must admit I’ve danced to the purple dinosaur more than once.

We tip-toed through the thick of trees for the elusive birds of paradise. I strained my head up-wards and could hear them but saw nothing. Then, from a swaying branch we saw one! Quickly it disappeared back into the dense green foliage.

Mom! I’m stepping in bird poo,” said Coco as she tip-toed through the spotted, white grass. “What are they doing up there?” All around Costa Rica, around 4 o’clock in the afternoon, parrots gathering in trees and squawk. And squawk. No matter how hard we looked, we couldn’t see any of the green parrots in the green trees.

“I’ve seen this a lot honey,” I said as I grabbed her hand so we could find our car in the parking lot. “I think they’re just getting together to chat.”

“What are they saying?” she asked.

In my best “parrot-imitation voice” I began talking about the things I think parrots would like to share at the end of a long day of foraging and being a bird: Where the best food spots were; perhaps one knows another parrot that would be a good date; cool spots to hang in the hot afternoon…..

Coco leaned back in her booster seat in the car and looked through the window. “They really say that?”

“Listen,” I said. ” I think the birds know it all. Who else would talk that much other than a know-it-all?!”

Without humor, I’d wouldn’t make it. Everything takes three times longer (or more) to complete, if at all; we have to learn a new language all our own; without warning, things whip across the room; and most likely at any time of the day, one can easily find some sort of food matter in my hair or hanging from one of my appendages.

I heard one mother say that if one more person told her she was lucky to have an autistic son, she’d blow her top. The day-in and day-out physical and emotional challenges are a lot. It’s not a pretty television commercial, this “special needs” thing. I mean, how many special needs kids do we see on peanut butter commercials happily spreading the stuff on a perfectly white piece of bread?

In a special needs world, most likely, the peanut butter would have ended up on my arm; the bread ripped up to pieces and thrown across the kitchen; and the spoon in some one’s hair. A sense of humor is not a nice extra to get through the tough times - like the dinner hour - it’s an absolute requirement when getting just one task finished can seem to plop me in a hole where, without a good laugh, I’d think this was all too unfair. Spending more than 1/2 a minute wondering why it seems so unfair is not in the special needs handbook. There just is no time, for the child will gaze up at us and again, ask for help, usually in a way we’d never even imagined, and send me roaring into laughter as I watch it all spin by.