Bill and the Kids By Nesy Núñez

There is an unusual bustle at a corner of El Vedado neighborhood. Dozens of people lift, hold, carry and assemble great colored pieces that become eye-catching structures. Curious passerbys stop for a few minutes trying to understand what’s happening. Soon they see that they are not looking at regular builders. Among them are a group of young people whose skin and hair are too light colored to be Cubans, and who try to quench their thirst and drive the heat away with long draughts of mineral water. Then the passer-bys noticed that many wear T-shirts with the caption “It’s Just the Kids.”

Like a ship’s skipper Bill Hauf supervises the entire bustle around him. It’s a dream that began four years ago; his dream. And dreams not always come true. This almost has, so he can’t afford accidents or incidents that tarnish the legitimate satisfaction that he is feeling as chutes, swings and crawling tubes begin to appear to the delight of the neighborhood kids. So while he answers my questions his deep blue eyes are riveted to the future playground and he interrupts the interview to warn one of the workers.

Bill tells me that on one of his first trips to Cuba several years ago some Cuban friends took him for a ride. They went to a beautiful spot in Havana, Park Almendares, together with his friends’ children. There he saw the playground, the equipment devastated by the wear and tear of several generations of the neighborhood’s children. Then and there he had the idea of what four years ago became It’s Just the Kids, Inc., a non profit organization for the purpose of building and/or fitting playgrounds in neighborhoods with a high concentration of children, with the cooperation of several Cuban institutions and the families in the neighborhoods.

The work halts for a moment. A group of school children have come to thank the visitors for the gift they have brought. The builders’ faces beam. Marissa Lopez, a young woman who studies Latin American history at the University of Wisconsin and who came as one of the volunteers with It’s Just the Kids translates for the group the words of the little Cubans. The brief encounter ends with a song performed by the school children.

When the song ends I approach Marissa. She tells me that she is of Mexican descent. I ask her how she learned of the project and she explains that it was through a friend that works for UNICEF. The friend is also here and she points her out. Marissa heard of the project just two weeks ago and didn’t hesitate. This is not her first visit, for she was in Cuba last January in a University of Havana seminar. She loved the country and wanted to return, so the project was a great opportunity.

Bill the dreamer watches his crew: they are about fifty volunteers from several states, students and workers now busy assembling structures. He tells me about the time he’s spent, the trips, the interviews, the U.S. bureaucratic red tape and the lack of understanding, the obstacles, and all the personal money he has poured into the project. He believes it’s been worth it, every penny and every minute.

“Everything has worked pretty well,” he tells me. They wanted to finish three playgrounds in a week, but they’ll finish only two; this one at El Vedado and another one in Regla, across the bay. They will start the one at Marianao and the Cubans will finish it. It hasn’t been perfect, but it’s only the first experience. He has found great cooperation from the Cuban side, but the enormous material limitations, well known by this old friend of Cuba, delayed the ambitious and tight schedule.

Bill brought with him five specialists from the factory that builds the equipment. The same company designed the playgrounds and the project for assembly of the equipment. They supervise the work and volunteers form teams under their direction. Workers of Havana’s communal services are side by side with the volunteers. The assemblyman of the municipal district is in charge of logistics. A woman that is the liaison officer for the cooperation projects in the capital turns out to be an efficient coordinator.

By the playground in construction, on the other side of the fence, there is a child’s day care center. A dozen, four- and five-year-olds ask questions to the American volunteers. I approach David King, a Washington, D.C. Afro American who works for the Peace Corps. He is no stranger to Cuba. Last year he came to bring medical supplies to the Monserrat Church as part of the Cuba AIDS Project.

I asked him about his experience. “I was happy from the moment that I saw the enthusiasm of the children for their new playground. I like to help other countries; that’s why I’m in the Peace Corps. But I’d rather give my contribution in things that countries and people really need. Many times my country helps in a manner that we think is good for others. I like to help in the things that people think they need. I believe this project is like that, for you can see that the Cuban children need and are going to enjoy these playgrounds.” He later explains that he has been in many Caribbean countries, working or vacationing, and Cuba is where he feels best, because of its people.

When Bill set out on this moving experience he thought that if he was going to ask other people for money for the project, he should be the first one to give. Somewhat embarrassed he tells me that up to now all financing has come from his own savings: the hiring for the factory’s services, buying and transporting the equipment and tools for its assembly, trips, communications and bureaucratic transactions, and even part of the expense for this group of volunteers, for the $900 dollars that each one of them contributed are not enough, even with preferential hotel rates and other advantages.

I gather that he won’t be able to personally finance the next playgrounds and tell him so. He agrees, but he also hopes that from now on, having something to show, he will be able to raise money. As part of the plan, a filmmaker is shooting the whole project, and the volunteers themselves will be able to support a campaign and obtain contributions, which are indispensable to keep on building new playgrounds.

I believe he will succeed, because his enthusiasm is contagious and his goal is moving. Indeed, mixed with Bill’s crew there are another dozen of young Americans who were in Cuba, and when they heard of the project decided to join it.

“Seeing is believing”, is the saying, and Bill can take back home some results. Now he’ll try to raise money for the project.

Joseph Jakubiszyn and his wife Amy are conscious of the problem. Joseph is twenty years older than the average age of the group, but he stands out for his enthusiasm and his ever-present smile. A son of Polish immigrants who came to the U.S. during World War II, he is a surgery technician and lives in North Michigan. The couple tells me that when they came to Cuba there still was snow and the lake was frozen. The midday sun is hard on them, but Joseph keeps smiling. Amy teaches Spanish linguistics at the University of Michigan. A colleague who teaches Spanish literature heard of the trip two weeks ago through a mailing list from Wisconsin. Both told their students, and although many were interested only four who had valid passports could come: two students of Spanish and two of international relations. They’ll return with photos and bent on supporting Bill’s project. Joseph tells me that among common Americans there is much ignorance about Cuba. Some of his friends were concerned about his coming, but he says he has felt more secure here than in some places in the U.S.

At the official inauguration of the playground built in Regla, there probably will be speeches and important people, but Bill, that child at heart with rosy cheeks and serene gaze, will feel an intimate joy when he sees the kids sliding down chutes, crawling through tubes and swinging in that small space that is a wonderful sample that a better world is possible.

Nesy Nuñez is a Cuban journalist who writes for a number of different publications.