If she and her sister were ordinary people, on 20th Street between 11 and 13 there would be one more of the many restaurants in El Vedado. If they hadn’t had each other, if they hadn’t said “I love you” every time they needed it, maybe today there would be a group of young people doing CrossFit one block from the Línea Tunnel.
But they came to the world and became exceptional, like so many people who are born in Santa Clara. They kept each other company, comforted each other, and learned together about affection and about the hard things in life. Being a mother and an aunt offered them the possibility of dreaming of a different upbringing. The complicity of sisters was the clay that would later take the form of La Isla de los Niños, a Montessori nursery, the only one of its kind in Cuba.
The story of La Isla…is also the life story of Glenda Jones, “woman, mother, queer, entrepreneur, fighter and dreamer.” This is how she defines herself; although behind those words there is a world of experiences, events and emotions that make it very difficult to describe her as a human being in one line.
To talk about Glenda, based on sincerity, you have to see her sad, surprised, happy, upset, nostalgic, thoughtful. You have to look into her eyes many times and discover how they change color without ceasing to be white and brown. And it’s not difficult, because she looks at you firmly, as if facing you, as someone who trusts that: “The eyes are the mirror of the soul.” Her gaze can be intimidating, like that of those old-fashioned mothers who scold you for anything; but there is also a lot of sweetness and elegance under her eyebrows.
Her eyes change color many times when she talks about her life before La Isla. Her gaze lights up as she tells me about her career as a doctor. In her fifth year, she came to study in Havana and then she left with other better students for Venezuela to do an internship. Her job placement was in a polyclinic where she made friends with some Germans who came to donate medicines and invited her to visit their country for three months. In addition to her apprenticeship for a year in Venezuela and two years in Old Havana rotating through twelve of the thirteen clinics in the area, those ninety days through German hospitals and participating in gynecology, reconstructive and orthopedic surgery practices were added. She met the father of her daughters and fell in love. But she never thought of staying in Germany. She was told then that she was a fool, and they did not understand how she was going to “come back” with how bad things were here.
“I’m very attached to my family, to Cuba; I don’t know why, but it’s hard for me to separate. I suffered those eleven months I was in Venezuela and the three months that I was in Germany were horrible for me. I miss everything and I don’t like to miss.” That is why she returned, she was married for seven years and her daughters, to a Cuban mother and a German father, were born in this Caribbean land.
Glenda’s love for the big island, which hurts us so much and makes us fall in love with it, is contagious. La Isla de los Niños is also born out of the complexity that all separation entails as well as that indescribable love.
Sometimes one uses the phrase “the planets aligned” to refer to the fact that everything was arranged, as if by magic, based on something. But those who know about astrology know that each planet has its load of pain. Each planet draws lines that suppose to work on oneself.
On the one hand, she was determined to stop her work as a doctor. When she was pregnant with her youngest daughter, she was doing a surgical specialty and that required several hours of standing. As part of the basic pregnancy care, she had to rest and leave the room to have a snack. She felt that she could not do her best under these conditions, so she preferred to dedicate herself to taking care of the health of her unborn baby.
On the other hand, her 3-year-old girl came home from “daycare” stressed because the lady scolded her for going outside the contours when coloring. Sometimes she would come repeating the news that she heard on the television that was shown to the children for several hours, so they wouldn’t get bored. One day she came early to pick up her daughter and one of the ladies intervened to say that it was a pity that she was taking her because she was going to miss the math class they had in the afternoon.
As a mother, she began to feel dissatisfied with the treatment given to her child. Her sister told her: “We are not going to build a restaurant or a gym: we are going to build a nursery, as we want it.”
This is how they began to dream together of a place where children could be children, learn what they wanted to learn, and maximize that need. A place where they weren’t put to watch television or forced to take math classes in the afternoon. A place where they could color outside the contours and be happy while learning.
In that process, they came across Montessori Education and were lucky enough to receive classes from experts from different parts of the world. They also found the terms of Positive Discipline and Respectful Parenting. They accompanied the designers in the process of designing the spaces, and together with them they devised every detail based on the children so that they could enjoy every bit of La Isla. That first part, they remember, was very beautiful. Then came the hard part: the construction.
The construction process for La Isla lasted from August 2019 to April 2022. While most of the people were locked in their homes, Glenda was 9 meters above ground level, building, asking questions, and learning how to mix construction materials.
She went through the experience of building, of dealing with informal masons, with the lack of materials, with obstacles of all kinds; but she too was lucky to find people like Daniel, a bricklayer who knew how to materialize a unique project.
Her Isla, the one she and her sister dreamed of, was built from scratch. And in that birth, there were also losses, cycles that closed, changes and new empowerments. Her divorce and her sister’s departure crossing borders from Nicaragua, as so many young people did, were events that shook her family structure while the columns of La Isla were strengthened.
Since her sister left, Glenda has not slept peacefully. “I had other economic possibilities, but she told me that she couldn’t spend her life expecting me to always support her.” Along with the gravel, cement and sand with which La Isla was built, there is the sadness caused by emigration as one more ingredient in the mix. Her sister has been the reason for her sleeplessness and at the same time her driving force to move forward.
Her Montessori-run nursery, which was founded one year ago on June 1, is the realization of a dream, with everything bitter and sweet that big dreams have. It is a place for children to grow up in conditions of respect for their rhythms, without rewards or punishments.
“It’s not just a place to take care of children — it’s a community.” It is a place to grow, to learn, especially from the infants themselves. In addition to all the beauty that has surrounded the people connected through La Isla, there have been criticisms, attacks and questioning about the monthly price of childcare services.
It is true that the majority of Cuban families cannot have access due to the lack of economic conditions that allow it, but many of the criticisms could be based on a lack of knowledge of how a place like this works from a logistical point of view.
“Having a nursery involves many expenses; preparing an ideal place takes a lot of economy. If you want to put any chair, it’s easy; but when you want to design furniture that is the height of the child, that does not break if they climb on it, that is reliable for them, that gives them freedom, it is very expensive.” It is not only expensive in Cuba, but anywhere in the world where the island’s own difficulties do not exist.
“If you want to prepare staff to care for children, you have to train them in the Respectful Parenting budgets, pay for courses, pay people to come and give training workshops.” Food expenses are great. Legumes and meats are bought in stores in freely convertible currency, because there must be a guarantee of what the children will eat. In addition, there are other expenses in materials, books, wipes, pencils, toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap…. “Nothing is easy or cheap if you want to do things right.” The children drink water in glasses and every month you have to buy new ones, because they break. “You have to give children that confidence, teach them that glass is heavy, and that it breaks.”
La Isla is a project that has required a lot of time, effort and money. Time, effort and money that were not used to carry out a conventional venture, but to embark on the wonderful adventure of guiding today’s children to be better than their parents and grandparents.
I haven’t seen criticism of Cuban nurseries in which they teach children that the boys play with cars and the girls play with dolls, or those in which they only accept girls because the boys are very restless. Or those, just as expensive, in which they do not accept children with disabilities or genetic conditions that prevent them from keeping up with others their age.
Glenda, who is not very affected by criticism, because her mission is to create bridges and work based on excellence and love, has created a place where children of different conditions live together, regardless of whether they have an extra chromosome or if they still don’t speak at 5.
Montessori Education, for its part, does not cost money. The books written by Mary and her disciples are there. It can be carried out in our homes, like other forms of alternative education about which little is said in our context. And that is a task that Glenda has assumed based on all those families that would like to acquire this knowledge.
The repositories of bibliography on Montessori Education, Respectful Parenting and Positive Discipline are there, available to everyone for free. In addition, workshops are given at the nursery for all families, at no cost or with a minimal cost that is donated to animal welfare projects, community projects, or homes for children without filial protection.
A few weeks ago, the first Respectful Parenting Meeting was held at the Fábrica de Arte Cubano, another of Glenda’s dreams. For several days families from different backgrounds were able to attend lectures, talks and workshops. Families from La Isla de los Niños were specifically asked not to attend the event, in order to reserve all capacities for other families.
I would like projects like this to multiply and become more accessible, so that whoever wants to give their children an alternative education can do it, do it in their country and do not have to go to other places. It is not about what is better or worse, it is simply an alternative, and the possibility of choosing makes us more free.
In addition to La Isla, which is her center, Glenda has a new venture of educational materials called Sisé, another endeavor that has just started and that keeps her happy. Although, if it is about happiness, we must mention Cuco, her small car.
With it, she can go get the children’s yogurt at Finca Vista Hermosa, and the fruit at Cotorro. Anyone who knows her knows that her car doesn’t stop because, like a good entrepreneur, she doesn’t wait for things to come her way: she goes looking for them. “Cuco and I are a machine.” Every day in the morning she sits down and says to it: “Good morning, Cuco, behave well and start nice.” And when Cuco starts, it makes her so happy that the rest of the day runs smoothly.
Another important part of her life in recent years has been activism. “Lisy is incendiary, she is the one that sparks our lives.” She met her through LGTBIQ+ activism, along with other people who are very close to her family today. They became friends at a time when they both needed each other, they ended up falling in love, sharing bad nights, party nights, gray days and rainbow days.
For her, the other side of activism is Pasos, the animal protection group to which Glenda belongs and to which she dedicates part of her time and her income. Since she has Cuco, she is called at all hours to pick up an abandoned, sick or lost animal.
Thanks to Pasos, her family has grown bigger. One day she was called to pick up a Belgian Malinois who was born blind. There are those who crossbreed dogs to sell them regardless of whether they are blood relatives and that this causes problems for some puppies. From a large litter, Zatoichi was born. They were going to put him down because no one would pay for a blind dog. But it was rescued. The plan was to keep him with them for a while until a Canadian dog trainer friend who had experience with blind animals would educate him to give him up for adoption. The dog was successfully trained, but Glenda fell in love with it and after the allotted time she said: “Nah, I’m not going to give this dog to anyone; this dog is mine.” And there she goes, being the eyes and soul of her Zatoichi.
There are also two cats in the house, both belonging to her girlfriend, Lisy. Tomas and Poe complete Glenda’s diverse family. Lisy always wanted to have a Siamese cat and one day Glenda was called to go rescue an old cat. It was a Siamese! He was beaten, skinny, he was about 12 years old, his teeth had fallen out and the muscles in his hind legs had atrophied. But Poe was a beautiful gift for Lisy, who was able to see her dream come true. At last she could have a Siamese cat!
Poe has been missing for a few days. He was under medical treatment for bronchopneumonia. Perhaps since Glenda and Lisy found him, Poe has lived through the best of his life. He might show up soon, or maybe he hid to die far from home, as cats mysteriously do.
She knows that Cuba has to improve in animal care; even if there is a Law, there is still a lot to change. And that change begins in childhood. That is why in the nursery that she planned with such care there is a community cat called Isla and she lives harmoniously with the little ones. Many times animals are brought over so that children can interact with them and foster love and respect.
Glenda’s eyes light up when she talks about her girls: Emma and Lena. She likes to say that they don’t look alike at all, although they dress alike and they are both wings of a hummingbird. Inside, she says, they are very different. “They remind me a lot of me and my sister.” But Glenda knows that the world has changed and that is why she has wanted to give her daughters a different upbringing than they had. “I want my daughters to be able to name their feelings. I want them to be able to say: ‘I feel anguish, I feel fear, I feel joy.’” And in that path of growth and sincerity, she has also become bigger and more empathetic.
Her daughters have grown up with her great dream, which is La Isla de los Niños. Studying the work of María Montessori has been a two-way journey, the desire for a better future for her daughters and for other children. The columns of the nursery have gone up along with her studies, her doubts and her experiences as a mother. In that invisible architecture is the strength and beauty of this sui generis project.
Emma and Lena, whose names are tattooed on her mother’s thigh, are privileged children. They can be free, they can run barefoot, they fall and get up on their own, they know how to apologize when they hurt someone. Their freedom is that one day they go to karate and the other day to ballet classes, without anyone telling them that females dance and males fight. They are lucky girls because when they want a cosmonaut suit, their mother doesn’t buy it or has it sent by the family abroad: she makes it herself out of paper-mâché. And the girls see how, every day, the costume they longed for becomes a reality and they participate in the process and discuss the design, colors and shapes.
Glenda’s daughters will continue to grow between today’s harsh Cuba and the microcosm that is La Isla; between boys and girls of different colors, origins, nationalities, languages, conditions and capacities. They will continue to grow free between the love of their father, born in Germany and living in Cuba, and the love of her mother, born in Guantánamo. They will become more educated girls among the German traditions of Max and Moritz, by Wilhelm Busch and the stories of Deshojando margaritas (historias de muchachas complicadas), by Eldys Baratute from Guantánamo. And her mother will always be at the center of those influences, watching over their sleep and encouraging them to fly higher and higher.
Glenda doesn’t like to brag about what she does for animals or families. She follows the maxim of a teacher she had when she was studying medicine who said: “In life one is either a turtle or a hen. The hen lays only one egg and everyone finds out, but no one knows how many eggs a turtle lays. You decide what you want to be.” She has decided to be a turtle.
She is a woman who likes the exuberant and uncomfortable beauty of the mountains more than the comfortable beauty of the beach. Maybe that’s why she prefers to have an Isla de los Niños and not an inflatable park, or a junk food store. And when you ask her if she wants to leave Cuba, she answers with another question: “For what and where?” Yes, her favorite place in the world is here. Under the mango tree, on the sidewalk, in front of the white building with green windows. There she sits every so often, when there isn’t much sun, and watches the dream shared between her and her sister come true.
Author
Isabel Cristina
