Trailer park resident gets a home
County's Habitat for Humanity finishes its 50th home and celebrates
houses for three Trail families.
By SELINA ROMÁN
BRADENTON -- Arely Yanes used caulk to fill tiny holes in a door frame earlier this year. She didn't want
any imperfections in the home that she helped build.
As she stretched to reach the door frame above her, someone told her she missed a spot. She giggled,
and immediately went back to fix the area.
Yanes, 39, is proud of the little 35th Avenue West house. She didn't just help build it -- she's buying it, with the help
of Manatee County Habitat for Humanity.
In its shadow sits the trailer she just left in the Trail Motel and Mobile Home Park, a place of shootings,
prostitution and sewage.
One Saturday in January, she took a break from painting a window frame in the back bedroom and peered
out the window.
"Que fea (How ugly)!" she says as she looks at her white trailer, the edge protruding from among the other
dingy metal boxes.
Yanes doesn't mind the short distance from her old home because it means her children can stay in the
same school.
Though close physically, Yanes' new home is a long way from the trailer park figuratively.
Now her three children will be able to play in the yard without worrying about prostitutes or drug dealers.
And her 11-year-old daughter, Marjorie, can invite friends over without being embarrassed about where she lives.
Yanes and two other families stood in front of their finished homes amid a crowd of family, friends, Habitat folks,
and other well-wishers. Sunday was also a celebration for Manatee's Habitat for Humanity because it had just
completed its 50th home.
Homeowners and volunteers build affordable homes under the program, which started in 1976. The program fosters
pride in ownership with classes and seminars.
"It's the only chance these families will have to own a home," said Susie Walters, president of Manatee County
Habitat for Humanity. "We target people who can't go out and get a regular mortgage. But we make sure they make
enough to be able to support their families and pay their mortgages."
Sister Nora Brick, who runs the Still Pointe House of Prayer on 14th Street West, has visited Trail families for decades.
She attended Sunday's dedication and said it was a happy ending for families like Yanes'.
Brick said many from the trailer park will end up paying by the week in motels or in duplexes with poor plumbing or electrical
wiring. Others will cram together somewhere else to share the cost.
"Anyone that gets out of there ...," Brick said as her voice trailed off. "It's a sin against humanity to have anyone in there."
As Pastor Joe Rene Cadena of Iglesia de Dios Vida Nueva read a scripture from the Bible at the dedication, Yanes
wiped tears from her eyes.
Of the three homes being dedicated, Yanes was the first to get her set of keys. And as she clutched the ring of seven
shiny keys, a smile took over her face.
She hugged her crying friend Kathleen Burke and told her: "Mi casa es su casa (my house is your house)."
Yanes, who is from Honduras, has logged about 458 "sweat-equity" hours in the Habitat for Humanity program.
She's hammered, sawed, drilled, sanded, and painted for the last four months.
She's had to give up valuable work time -- and pay -- to help build her house. But it's worth it, she says.
After long days spent outdoors mowing lawns, her sweat-soaked clothes cling, and dirt makes a home under her
fingernails.
But she was dressed up for Sunday's celebration with makeup, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, a flowing blouse and
capri pants. And her French manicured nails glistened -- her first set of nails ever.
Back at the trailer, a tower of boxes filled the trailer's dining area -- electronics, pots, pans, chair cushions and plates
by Martha Stewart. She spent months collecting the rugs and bedroom linens. Nearly everything -- her sofa and dining set
-- was paid for on layaway in places like K-Mart, Wal-Mart and Big Lots.
Yanes, who has lived at the Trail for five years, is one of the lucky few of the remaining families who will leave the trailer
park for something better.
But she jokes about the proximity to her old trailer.
"I couldn't escape it," she said with a giggle.
Yanes owns the condemned trailer that she estimates is at least 50 years old. A very small part of her will miss the home
that she tried to perfect over the years, with peach paint, vinyl tile and wallpaper.
But she won't miss the constant parade of police cars and prostitutes. She won't miss the gunshots or the drunken men
who fall asleep at her door, keeping her from getting out of the house.
Tears well up in Burke's eyes when she remembers meeting Yanes and the stories they have shared at the
Trail over the years.
"When I first met her she was so shy and timid," Burke said. "She's come so far."
Yanes just giggles as she rummages through the two large boxes that Burke has dropped off. They're filled with glasses,
plates and other china, wrapped neatly in old newspapers.
"A lot of presents," Yanes said happily in Spanish.
After the cake was eaten and the crowd dispersed, Yanes roamed the empty house, giving impromptu tours,
opening cabinets and checking out the oven.
The house has running water but no electricity yet, so she'll have to stay at the Trail for a few days longer than she expected.
"I don't even want to look at my ugly trailer now," Yanes said in Spanish as she stood in the doorway of the new house.