Cuéntame Magic: Gifting the Recordings to the Kids

This is true story of an amazing afternoon that unfolded last Tuesday afternoon in San Jose, Costa Rica, in which we gifted the first round of recordings, books and Mp3 players to the Cuéntame pilot project participants.....

All the children are squirming restlessly in their seats, well aware of the fact that they were invited here because we have a present for them. They just have no idea what it could be, nor do they have no idea who I am, as I am not one of the psychologists they see when they come in for therapy at Seeds of Love. However, I feel like I already know each and every one of them. I have heard all about them for months, sitting next to their mothers in the Good Sheppard Prison, listening to the stories they tell me while we work on the recordings for their children through the Cuéntame Project. Most of the children that are here today now live with their grandmother. She is the one who brings them in for therapy and who has brought them here this afternoon to pick up the surprise. One glance at the group and the tears begin to well up. All of them, these children as much as the women in prison, look exactly like their mothers.

Some of the children were home when the police came to arrest their mom and took her to jail; others simply came home to find she was gone, and won’t be back for a long time. Some of the kids know where she is and have been able to go for a few visits, others no. Some of them are hoping that their mom might be released this year; others have another 15 years to wait. One thing rings true for all of them: They miss their mom. A lot.

Each woman in the prison receives four ten-minute blocks of phone time each day at predetermined hours. An example of a typical call schedule would be: 7:40 a.m., 10:50 a.m., 2:40 p.m., and 8:20 p.m., with ten minutes at each of these times to make and receive phone calls, period. Between school, other activities or the lack of a phone in the house where they are staying, it can be complicated to connect even once a day. Plus, as we all know from talking on the phone, ten minutes can go by really quickly, especially if there is more than one person to catch up with.

Jeannette, on of the psychologists and founders of Seeds of Love, introduces me as, “a good friend of ours, who also has spent a lot of time talking to your moms”, which sparks their curiosity. The shyness starts to melt away. I ask them, “What would you say if I told you that with the surprise that we have for you, you could hear your mom’s voice five times a day?” Eyes brighten and twenty-four little hands shoot up in the air, the room suddenly full of little voices screeching, “Me! Me! I want that! I really miss my mom”.

“What could this surprise be?” I ask them, “Something that you could use to listen your mom’s voice ten times a day if you want to?” Twelve little faces scrunch up, thinking. “A telephone?” one boy suggests, scratching his head. “Hmmm…it is not a phone,” I reply. “What else could it be?” We play the guessing game for a few more minutes and then pass out the presents. On the count of three, chaos unleashes, as they begin ripping off the wrapping paper, tearing the plastic off the books and taking Mp3 players and cords out of its packaging.

Now comes the difficult part: recapturing their attention so we can show them the real surprise, what is actually on the mp3 player. I have drawn up a little diagram of the mp3 player with instructions, and while Jeannette is explaining step by step how to connect the headphones and move from one track to the next, the other volunteers and I are walking around the room, helping them get set up.

Within a matter of seconds, the room is silent. They all have their headphones on, listening. Their faces light up when they realize it is their mom they are listening to. Over the past few months I have listened to the recordings so many times that I practically have each one memorized. Although the room is quiet, I feel like I am listening with them, as the words of their mother are running through my head.“Hello my love…do you know who this is? Yes, it’s your mom. I want to read a story with you, so that it the moments you feel sad or really miss me, we can be together…”

Pretty soon, the tears start flowing, as the brothers, sisters, and grandmothers all take turns listening to the recordings. No one is really paying attention to the books at this point. They just want to hear their mom’s voice, hear how much she loves them and misses them. I know it is not the recording that is making them cry. They are crying because they miss this person. One of the grandmothers has tears in her eyes and says softly to me, “Even I like to listen to it, hearing her voice. That's mydaughter, you know?”

After a while, we bring everyone sandwiches, juice boxes, and cookies, which lightens the mood. The children start running around and their grandmothers and other family members start getting ready to go. One of the little girls comes up to me and taps my leg, beckoning me down. I bend down on one knee, so we are eye to eye. She puts her arms around my neck and whispers in my ear, “I am going to listen to my mom every day in my room.” As everyone is leaving, one little boy stops suddenly, turns around and runs up to me. He is wearing the mp3 player around his neck and a very concerned look on his face. He leans in and says, “And you are sure that this is for me, to take home?” “It sure is.” I reply. “And I can really listen to it whenever I want?” he asks. I nod my head. He gives me a big smile, clutching the black bag dangling from his neck. “Don’t forget to call your mom and tell her thank you, alright?” I remind him. He nods furiously and runs out the door.

One of the grandmothers comes up to me and says, “I just want to say that the work that you all are doing, with the Cúentame project and at Seeds of Love, well, it means a lot to me. To us. There is so much about the prison system that people don’t see or think about…like what it is like to have someone you love on the inside, what happens to your family. Society forgets about them and it forgets about us too. So thank you, for helping us, you know, not feel so forgotten.” I hug her for a long time.
As I am riding the bus home, my head resting against the window, tears rolling down my cheeks. I don't know if they are happy tears or sad tears. It feels like a little bit of both and a million other feelings at the same time. I’m thinking about the hours that we worked on the project, all of the people that sent money to make it possible, that donated recording equipment, the friends that donated their time to edit the files, all that has happened up until this point so that tonight, maybe for the first time since their mom went to prison, their mom’s voice might be the last thing these kids hear before falling asleep. I know that this project won’t magically make their lives any easier. All of them – the children, the women, their families - their lives are complicated, and will continue to be so. However, I do hope that maybe for today, their lives will feel a little less so. Even that is enough for me to know that it was all worth the effort, and that we should do it again.

You can find more information about the Cuéntame Project and even donate online on our beautiful new website that is up and running in English and will be up and running in Spanish shortly at www.cuentamecostarica.com.