Dance Lest We All Fall Down - Margaret Willson [93]
I stopped by the church where Bahia Street was now holding its classes and watched Ana work with the girls. She was very lively. She often hugged them. And it was clear she engaged their attention, but she ignored me. When I had first arrived at the church, the doorman wouldn’t let me in.
“We’re not open to tourists,” he said.
“I’m a friend of Rita’s. I’m helping her with the project with the girls upstairs.” His face brightened instantly, and he ushered me in.
“Rita took pictures for my daughter’s confirmation last week. She’s a wonderful photographer.”
I ascended the narrow stairway, and the air grew hotter and closer with every step. How could the girls study in this? When I entered the room, I saw they all sat on a single long bench, their books in their laps. The light in the room was dim, and the narrow windows were covered with grime. The room was clearly a storage space with stacks of church equipment covering most of the floor. When they saw me, the girls shouted a greeting. Rita gathered her knapsack, and we descended the stairs together.
“How can you stand being up there all day?” I asked as soon as we were in the stairwell.
“It’s not good. The girls can’t concentrate. But I think I’ve found us a new place. If we can get it, it’ll be great. Not fancy, but with a small kitchen, a middle room, and a front room. We could have a classroom.
I’ll show it to you.” Rita waved a greeting to the doorman, and we walked out into the hot sun.
“I have to do some shopping. That OK?” I nodded and we walked up the cobblestone street. “I’ve been thinking, Margaret, these girls, they’re sleepy all the time. They start to study and then they just fall asleep. I questioned them, and they aren’t getting any breakfast. I think they’re completely malnourished. Notice how small they all are? I don’t think we can expect them to study if they’re hungry. With the new room, I’m trying to think of a way we can feed them.”
More money, I thought. Which we didn’t have. But I didn’t say this. Instead, I asked, “How’s Ana?”
“Fine, I guess.”
“Ah.” We finished Rita’s shopping for various school supplies, then stopped for a beer and evening cheese sandwich at our usual street-side bar near Bahia Street.
“I am worried about Ana,” Rita said.
“Yes?” I said, looking into my beer.
“Her knowledge about nonprofits and administration is very good. And she has excellent connections in this city.”
“Yes?”
“Well, this may sound crazy, but I think she’s trying to take over Bahia Street.”
“So she can get wealthy?”
Rita laughed. “Bahia Street has a name here now. She could use that to promote herself. And that’s what I think she wants to do. She won’t stay with Bahia Street—it’s too small. But she wants to claim its success for herself.”
Rita poured herself a beer and pulled on her fingers. “She’s trying to get staff hired who are her allies, who will treat her as director instead of me. She’s telling the girls that she’s really the director and that they should listen to her over me. You know the grant we just wrote, the one I sent you?” I nodded. “Well, she wrote it mostly—I’m not much good at those things. So, now she says that if we get it, she should get a percentage of it and be in control of how it’s spent.”
“That’s not good.”
“Shortly after you sent me the information on that grant, I showed it to her. She wrote most of our application, but she also wrote another one to the same foundation, but for another group here. They wrote for a project, but they aren’t going to spend it on any such project at all. They will give her a percentage and use the rest to buy a new building.”
“You know, she doesn’t like me; she will barely speak to me.”
“You’re white; of course she doesn’t like you. And worse, you’re from the United States. She detests Americans.”
I coughed to clear my throat of the annoying lump that had arisen there. “I’m so glad you’re telling me this,” I said. “I—well—I wasn’t sure if you agreed with her on things....”
“You know what I read?