Everyone who drives east on Highway 3 along the small city of Yauco on any sunny late afternoon has to notice the colorful little houses that rise like multicolor confetti covering the hill known as El Cerro de Yauco (Yauco’s Hill). It happened to me every time until one day that I couldn’t resist it’s lure and decided to stop to take a closer look.

 

Yauco is a small city located in the south west of Puerto Rico, famous for its coffee and its history. In pre-Columbian days Yauco was known as Coayuco and was considered the capital of the Taino society where its main chief Cacique Agüeybaná lived and ruled over Boriken (Puerto Rico). It was also the place where the first mayor battle of the United States occupation took place, in a coffee plantation in 1898.

 

Even dough I didn’t know anyone in El Cerro I was determined photograph it up and close. El Cerro doesn’t have a good reputation; it’s considered dangerous for outsiders so I decided to be obvious and walk in with two cameras both with zoom lenses one with a telephoto, the other with a wide-angle. I also strapped on my press badge thinking it might work as some kind of shield.

 

As I was reaching El Cerro snapping shots of the beautiful houses of downtown Yauco I was approached by a nice lady who warned me about walking too close to "that" community. She told me that I could end up getting mugged or even worst. I thanked her and kept walking now harboring some doubts in my mind whether I was doing the right thing.

 

Upon reaching the “dreaded” Cerro I found no one to approach, only dogs and cats roamed the streets, of course! It was around 4 o’clock in the afternoon, most of the residents were either working or inside their homes. I walked towards the “Escalinatas de Yauco” (Yauco’s Stairways) which are located at a point so steep on the hill that the street turns into stairs. There were two kids playing basketball, they didn’t pay me too much attention so I decided to sit for a while and take a break from the walk. Soon a young lady dressed in office attire passed me by and we started a conversation. Her name was Annette and she worked for the Yauco Municipal Government at the time. We talked about the community and she gave me some names and addresses of people that I should visit. So far so good, my first day in El Cerro and I still have my cameras and my wallet.

 

On my second visit I drove directly to one of the contacts Annette gave me. Doña Monse’s house sits at the top of Betances Street. From there the view extends from Yauco to the Caribbean Sea and a steady cool wind blows from the northeast across the Coordillera Central mountain range, A community leader, Doña Monse was quick with a coffee cup and chat. She retired some time ago and lives alone. She raised 4 children and lives off her social security benefits. There I also met Sadie, Monse’s neighbor who lost her son Sergio gunned down at age 24. Sergio who never did drugs or related himself with that underworld was killed along with his cousin who was the actual target of some hitmen.

 

While still at Doña Monse’s house another neighbor came to pay her a visit. Oscar, who

at the time painted houses and fixed leaky roofs for a living. The conversation flowed between the hardships and pleasures of living in El Cerro along with some of the usual neighborhood gossip. That’s when I learned about the painter who moved in from the U.S. to a little house down the street and how the mural he did on a corrugated zinc wall was featured by a mayor island wide newspaper. So I knew then and there where I was going next.

 

Walking towards Gamaliel’s house (the Painter down the street) I stumbled across the famous mural. A colorful rendition of themes "all Puerto Rican" ; a lush tropical forest, mountians, flowers, images of Taino Indians and Taino symbols, El Cerro's colorful little houses and of course the Coquí; Puerto Rico's mascot frog who’s song inundates night after Puerto Rican night. The Image of Gamaliel Ramírez was becoming clear in my mind. I was told he just moved in from Chicago, so that explained the nostalgic genre in his artwork. Soon I was knocking at his brightly painted door and being invited in by a very talkative somewhat skinny salt and peppered haired dude in shorts, flip flops and sleeveless t-shirt.

 

Gamaliel was born in New York from Puerto Rican parents so that makes him what we in Puerto Rico call a Newyorican. His parents moved to Chicago when he was still a boy. There he spent most of his life and became a well known Painter/muralist. After he was diagnosed with cancer and emphysema he decided to move to Puerto and into El Cerro where he claims its clean mountain air combined with a Puerto Rican diet of plantains, rice and beans cured him of his cancer. Gamaliel was at the time renting a little apartment which he turned into a painting studio from Luly the owner of the Mini mart next door and that’s how she turned to be my next target in this photographic quest.

 

On my third day visiting El Cerro I went over to pick up Gamaliel and then we paid a visit to Luly at her Mini-mart/Home she inherited her from her late husband and where raised a son who became a policeman and a daughter that works as a bank officer. Walking into Luly’s Mini-mart is to walk into her own magic realm of little saints and clay figurines that she collects and paints as her hobby, they are everywhere you look, no one entering her shop can escape the gaze of all those tiny little eyes. 

 

Luly’s Mini-mart is the hub of the neighborhood, there I met Tommy who actually does nothing but wander around El Cerro and liked striking funny posses whenever I pointed my camera at him and Edgar who was quick to pose too but with his 1943 Schwinn bicycle he restored and upgraded to 18 speeds. Edgar invited Gamaliel and I to his home where he fished out from the basement an old worn out LP record. It was from "Las Siete Potencias" (The Seven Mighty ones) a salsa group who’s lead singer was his late brother Julio César. We spent some time talking with Edgar about life in El Cerro, he told us how it use to be a "no man's land" captained by drug dealers and thugs and about the time he did in jail weaving miniature shoes and picture frames from cardboard strips cut out from cigarette boxes.

 

There was a moment in the conversation when he stared at me straight faced directly into my eyes and asked; “are you a cop?” After long seconds of silence, Gamaliel looking at Edgar and me, left to right, right to left , Edgar bursted into laughter "I'm joking man" he said, then Gamaliel and me joined in the laughter. I was trying not to sound to nervous after all there I was at the heart of El Cerro with nowhere to run but narrow passageways and alleys and with the only sense of direction that; south was down a stairway that I couldn’t even see where its end. Later on I felt silly for that nervous moment, after all everyone I encountered in El Cerro so far offered me nothing but a smile and sincere conversation, no facades, no masks.

 

On our way back to Gamaliel’s house we stopped at Don Israel Quiles' who was smoking a cigarette on his porch. Gamaliel did the introductions and for some reason Don Israel who lived for 17 years in The Bronx only wanted to talk about how during all those years of cold winters and harshships away from his beloved little tropical island, in every single election he participated he voted republican, a fact that to this day I still don't know why he brought up. So, that was a short but memorable visit nonetheless.

 

That night after saying our goodbyes and while driving the long way back to San Juan I remember thinking about the first day I went to El Cerro and that lady warning me of all the dangers I was luring into my life by walking “unnecessarily” into danger. Suddenly I was hit by a deep sense of joy and satisfaction; I felt that walking into that colorful hill had been a turning point in my life and career as a photographer. Most of my life had been dedicated to fulfill my client's wishes. From that point on photographing retail, advertising and public relation shots for some commercial interests meant nothing to me anymore, it all became so banal, so meaningless! Walking into and discovering the colors of El Cerro, knowing some little details of how its people live, die, laugh and cry, made me realize that the true colors of El Cerro do not come from the brightly painted little houses, they actually come from the, caring, breathing people that warm their innards and that single discovery made me re-focus mi lens.