Like a flock of birds

They came like a flock of birds, running from the building, small arms stretched out for a hug. Some of the children were tiny, some older, some more shy than others, but all of them twittering words of welcome. We had arrived at El Barrilete just before ten in the morning. It was already hot. We'd set out in a taxi, one of us in the front with two of us in the back squashed up against an old lady clutching her zimmer frame. She was let out half way to our destination in the barrio. The streets were increasingly rutted as we drove further from the centre of town until we really reached El Barrilete.
It's really just a group of concrete shacks with tin roofs. In fact until a few years ago it had no roof at all. Maria, the amazing woman who runs the place swiftly invited us inside and told us to sit down. In out honour the children were to put on a show of dancing. We sat round the walls, the children all around us on small chairs. Music boomed out from the back and the kids danced. They seemed to only have one yellow dancing frock which had to fit them all, so the smaller ones danced in billowing material that seemed to flow round them like yellow feathers. We all clapped and clapped as both the young ones and the older ones went through their paces. We ended with Lionel on his unicycle, a child on his shoulders as he weaved in and out of three chairs in the middle of the room.
These children all have their individual stories. Some live with their parents, some with their grandparents while their parents try to earn money down south in richer Costa Rica. But some of them are just abandoned, like the tiny one who sat beside Maggie, playing with the bangles on her wrist and occasionally yawning. He is only one year old and came with his brother who is not much older. Most of their lives have been blighted by drugs o/r prostitution or just plain poverty. All of them desperately need the haven they find at El Barrilete.
After the performance finished, we sat with Maria in the storeroom next door where she told us what she needed. It comes down to money of course - dinero. Maria may be a miracle worker but she can't achieve any of it without funds. She needs money to feed the children, to pay for a night guard, to provide more towels and sheets, for toothpaste and toothbrushes, for nit combs and shampoo, and finally for disposable nappies for the tiny baby she now has to provide for.
We leave El Barrilete with Lionel driving the ancient pickup truck, which doesn't want to start immediately, to buy a lot of the things she needs. We end up at a shop near the cathedral which seems to sell everything from nit combs to teapots. It takes some time to get everything and eventually we leave with two large cardboard boxes and a plastic bag full of bits and pieces. The total comes to just 2500 Cordobas or about 100 dollars. It's such a small sum but the difference it will make immediately is enormous. Of course there is also a much bigger sum given to Maria for the major future expenditure with a promise of more to come once we can establish her future priorities.