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When clowns become social workers >> In Chile, Cirque du Soleil alumni are taking kids off Santiago's mean streets and turning them into a circus act by SANDY HUNTER
Strangely, and with surprising effectiveness, a group of Canadian and international aid organizations are trying to break the cycle of poverty on the streets of Chile through clowning and other age-old circus techniques. And they are offering the poorest and most vulnerable members of the urban population in Chile options besides crime and drugs. Oxfam-Quebec, with financial aid from the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA), has brought alumni from Cirque du Soleil and École Nationale du Cirque de Montréal to teach and organize two Chilean circus projects: Circo del Mundo for younger kids, and Zirkozita, a more finished touring show, featuring Chilean teachers and monitors who are themselves graduates of the Circo del Mundo. "We are trying to use the circus as a tool to do social work for these kids," explains Roch Jutras, 42, a Montreal circus veteran and one of four Canadians working with the project in and around the capital city of Santiago. "But at the same time, through the skills we are teaching, we want to bring them into groups and show them different behaviours. We are teaching them that violence is not the answer, or maybe giving them a rush from adrenaline by doing backflips instead of drugs." Freebasing in the slums
But for those living in the ring of poblacions or campallas (slums and squatter communities), the continuing plague of unemployment, huge families and a drought of hope paint a much less optimistic picture. Drug use is widespread; the poor's narcotic of choice is the crack cocaine-like substance known as pasta base--literally, base paste left over from the cocaine manufacturing process. One joint of pasta base costs 100 pesos, or about 30 cents Canadian, making it a cheap and easy way to forget about an empty stomach. The Circo del Mundo project, in its fourth year of operation in Chile, tries reach out to people at risk while they're young; every year, the project takes in about 100 kids, aged 11 to 17, from slums and poor families around Santiago. Teaching kids to become jugglers or daring trapeze artists may not seem like viable social work. But "running off to join the circus" is, after all, the archetypal path out of poverty; capturing that impulse and using it as a social tool makes sense on several levels. First, Chile has a strong tradition of circuses and performance art, which makes it less of an odd career choice. Second, it helps to break the barriers between the often rough and surly kids and their authority figures--adults are far less threatening when they are riding a unicycle or dressed in size-35 clown shoes. Macho men in tutus There are three other Canadians on the project besides Jutras: Allison Crawford, 40, a choreographer with Cirque de Soleil; Alain Veilleux, 36, a trapeze artist and artistic director of the Circo, and Stéphane Bernier, 24, a gymnast and performer with Zirkozita. The four arrived in Santiago almost a year ago, most with limited Spanish skills, and all of them with a lot to learn about how things work when it comes to getting things done South American style. "Luckily for us, a lot of the circus skills we teach use a very physical language," says the youngest of the bunch, Bernier, with a shrug. "That made things a lot easier, but when more complicated issues came up things were more difficult." For example, as part of the Zirkozita show, Crawford wanted to include an all-male dance piece. Although Chile has a well-developed modern dance community, the gay connotations attached to dance are in direct contrast to the macho Latin attitude of most of the circus guys. "So, to get around the problem, we made a joke out of it. We all took off our shirts and had to wear tutus," laughs Bernier, who is part of the act. "It's not something they would normally do, but we did and it worked out just fine. The crowd loves it and lots of ladies whistle." Nine to five, mañana Another hurdle that had to be overcome was the more laid-back approach to work inherent to the Latin world. That, combined with the background of oppression still felt in Chilean life, made it difficult at first for the Canadians to wrap their heads around the different way of doing things. "First off, we work from nine until nine just to accomplish what we would normally get done from nine to five," says Jutras. "Plus, the history of the closed system under Pinochet makes it shocking for them to see gringos coming in and trying to apply our own ways and mentalities." But all of the Canadians, especially Jutras, are no strangers to working under odd, if not always difficult, circumstances. Before coming to Chile, Jutras worked with a similar project set up in Montreal to teach punk kids circus skills. The respect his students give him goes well beyond what a guy with a rubber nose normally receives. Claudia Sanchez, 27, is one of the oldest members of Zirkozita, and has been in the program since its inception four years ago. Like Jutras, she is a clown with a background in theatre. Her character is Sufrina, a randy sort of clown with a penchant for hard-boiled eggs and bringing her bosom to bear on any males she comes across in the course of the show. "Roch helped me develop and create my character and make me work harder and reflect," she says. "He taught us the most of any of them and is in solidarity with us. He is a great artist." "When it comes down to it we aren't offering them an escape, only three days a week for three hours a day," says Jutras. "When that's done, they still have to go back home and face their realities. We can only hope that we can teach them enough to be stronger people, and maybe go on to work in or start their own circuses."
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There are many cliché solutions that usually get bandied about when it comes to Third World problems like abject poverty and pre-teen drug addiction. But, generally speaking, "send in the clowns" doesn't top the list.
Although Chile has experienced an economic boom over the last 10 years, the gap between the burgeoning middle class and the poor is still vast and shocking. Upwardly mobile trappings like cell phones, fast food and Hollywood flicks have convinced many living in the new Chile that their country has moved away from its more modest (and dictatorial) roots towards a slick and gleaming future.