Splotches of paint freckled the sunburned palate of my skin. The burning fumes of kerosene flooded my nostrils as I scrubbed my arms, legs, and face, irritating dozens of furious mosquito bites. I still had no idea how the bits of paint would be extracted from my frizzed, blonde, humidified hair. It was the best day of my life.
I was in Portsmouth, on the island of Dominica, along with eight other girls from across the country. I had selected this Broadreach summer community service trek for two primary reasons: to reach out to a deprived community, and to rekindle my love of creating artwork. Far from warm showers, potable tap water and AC, I found myself standing before a cold, gray, desperate wall in the heart of a poverty-stricken and drug-infested city that I would soon come to see was beautiful.
This wall outside St. John's Catholic School became a canvas for hope and inspiration. By creating and painting murals along this wall we had the power to positively influence a town in need by designing uplifting messages. It was only after the application of the first vibrant hues that the gray misty overcast day began to shine, as it will in my memory forever. Through the making of the mural, we not only brought beauty and hope to a deprived community, but saw the positive effects that hope brought to the smiling, unforgettable eyes of the schoolchildren that eagerly helped us. Brushes, paint cans, tears, creativity and passion would meld town, community and wall.
Walking away from that mural was near impossible. I had to look over my shoulder every few steps to confirm that the gleaming stretch of concrete was still there. Each time I turned, the paint-speckled school children would run back to me, and another last hug would be welcomed. They stared into my eyes, held my hand and thanked me for being there with them. I left behind more than paint, and gained more than I can ever attempt to describe. Part of that wall will remain within me, no matter how hard I scrub.
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