ENSENADA, Mexico — In a parched hillside village southeast of Ensenada, where electricity and plumbing are scarce and roaming dogs are plentiful, a treasure can be found on the grounds of an elementary school.
You can’t see it from the street, where the town palette runs from dusty brown to cinderblock gray. But traipse past the principal’s office, scale a short incline, and you’ll be rewarded with an 80-foot-long mural that explodes with color.
Just as impressive, though, is how the creation of the mural united cultures, bridged age gaps and erased borders.
I found out about the treasure of the village known as El Paraiso en Maneadero several weeks ago from a pickleball pal named Tom Wiley. He and his wife, Dana Bonda, are retired attorneys who have spent decades escaping to the coast south of Ensenada, where they’ve become involved in various local causes.
Small homes adorn the hills near El Paraiso en Maneadero in Mexico.
Wiley showed me a book, hot off the presses, called “Proyecto de Mural.” It tells the story of how the project came to be, with photos of the 12 young artists at work. One of them, 13-year-old David Vasquez Garcia, says in the book that his Mexican folk art creation was one part bull, one part cucaracha, and one part imagination.
I liked what I saw, and I headed south to have a look at the mural.
Wiley and Bonda laid out the backstory for me. Bonda was volunteering at art classes set up by French expat Bernard Brunon and his American expat wife Nancy Ganucheau. Bonda also volunteered at a mobile library project started by expat Debra Blake and Carol Woodruff, who splits time between Southern California and Baja.
The mobile library program was at the campus that houses both the Escuela Colosio and the Escuela Bocanegra. On her visits, Bonda noticed that the bare cinderblock wall along the patio could use some livening up.
How about a mural, she thought.
Mariana Rodriguez Elizarraraz looks through an art book during a food and clothes distribution near El Maneadero.
Bonda financed the project through a nonprofit she had founded years earlier, and toward the end of the 2025 school year, the students took up the challenge. With Brunon’s guidance, they began by drawing small-scale sketches, and eventually they were dipping brushes into cans of paint.
They worked through the summer and applied the finishing touches just in time for the fall semester. The mural greeted hundreds of students just back from summer break, and townsfolk dropped by to see what all the talk was about.
Practically before the paint had dried, the mural was a sensation.
Before I first set eyes on it, I traveled with volunteers past the school and up the unpaved roads of the town, which is home to families who resettled here from Oaxaca and other southern regions of Mexico to work in fields of cabbage, strawberries and other crops. The schools are bilingual, meaning that instruction is in Spanish but also in Mixtec and other languages.
We were headed to a hilltop church, Casa de Gracia, for the monthly clothing and food giveaway organized by volunteers. On this day, a stroller would be auctioned.
David Vasquez Garcia embraces Carol Woodruff during a food and clothes distribution near Escuela Colosio.
“A stroller is a lifesaver here,” Woodruff said as mothers cradling young children appeared from every direction as they climbed the winding dirt paths.
When youngsters spotted Woodruff, they called her name and ran to hug her. Her Spanish is strong and her heart is big, and she is the one the mothers often call when they’re hungry or sick or need to talk to someone they trust about the burdens they carry.
Woodruff and her husband, Gary, had each driven trucks up the hill, hers filled with donated clothing and his with tables and other supplies for the giveaway. Blake, who co-founded the mobile library with Woodruff, arrived a few minutes later with food and more clothing.
Some of the young muralists appeared, including David, who arrived on his bicycle. He’s the one who said his creation was a combination of cucaracha, toro and imagination, and I told him I was eager to see get my first glimpse of the mural.
Details of a mural made by local students and families at elementary school Luis Donaldo Colosio Murrieta
Danna, 16, another of the young artists, helped distribute clothing along with her grandmother and mom, Maria Magdalena Gracida, who told me she appreciates not just the donations from volunteers, but their commitment to the families.
I had a copy of “Proyecto de Mural” with me, and David looked through it with fellow artist Mariana Rodriguez Elizarras, 13. Mariana said they learned a lot of artistic technique, but the real thrill was the experience of creating something together.
Mariana has a serious side to her — a look of confidence and determination.
I asked what she wants to be as an adult.
An attorney, she said. Or an artist.
Or both.
Not far from the church is a cluster of several homes that share an outhouse and an outdoor wood-fired grill for communal cooking. Mariana took me into her home, where a framed certificate of academic achievement hung on a wall. She removed the frame to reveal several more certificates safely secured under the first, like a stack of reminders to keep climbing.
As we headed down the hill to the school, I was thinking about how these relationships have been built at a time when the broader narrative of immigration and international relations is much darker.
“We are immigrants here,” Wiley said. “And as far as I can tell, we have been welcomed.”
Nancy Ganechau, left, is shown 26-day-old Ricardo by his mother, Christina, during a food and clothes distribution near El Maneadero.
Baja transplants seem to come in all types, including contributors, land grabbers and gentrifiers. Some fled the north to escape the politics of President Trump, some fled liberal policies that preceded him, some moved south out of economic need.
Among the volunteers I met, the motive seems to be more personal than political. Scott Kennedy, a U.S. expat artist who helped on the mural project, called the experience one of the great pleasures of his life. His direction to students, Kennedy said, was “give the wall a chance, and see what you can do.”
1. Juan de Dios Ramirez Gonzalez, a principal at the elementary school stands in front of part of the mural he helped contribute to 2. Felipa Sanchez Cruz stands in front of an Alebrijes that she helped paint at elementary school Luis Donaldo Colosio Murrieta.
I’m no art critic, but I’d say they created a small masterpiece.
Actually, not so small. The mural, which is whimsical and thoughtful at the same time, is almost 30 yards long and 10 feet high. It includes mythical creatures, the Aztec calendar and local landscapes, all of it in vibrant primary colors rich with emotion.
One of the artists, 13-year-old Yoselin Pacheco Ruiz, seemed particularly pleased as students and adults milled about. I asked why she was smiling.
“Because I’m very happy with the mural,” she said, eyes glistening.
Part of a mural made by local students and families at Luis Donaldo Colosio Murrieta elementary school in Ensenada.
The wall did not cooperate initially. It was cracked, with water seeping through, and the fix was an expensive headache. Emmanuel Hurtado, the school superintendent, said he was impressed by the perseverance of the adult volunteers. Wanting to help people, he said, “is something they carry in their hearts.”
Hurtado said he had seen the children grow up on this campus and he was proud of them. Under Brunon’s direction, he watched them draw upon the local environment as well as the Oaxacan culture many of them came from.
“All of this came from the children’s ideas,” Hurtado said. “They were simply told, ‘Think of something native to you, something emblematic.’ And they did it.”
Some of the parents and even a grandparent helped, and the last mural character was added by Principal Juan de Dios Ramirez. He told me his Aztec rain god was painted in recognition of the agricultural economy that sustains the students’ families.
Students are released from class at Luis Donaldo Colosio Murrieta.
(Ronaldo Bolaños / Los Angeles Times)
As students celebrated their achievement over a lunch of tacos, their admiration for Brunon was clear. He was, for them, the one who made it both a learning experience and a lovefest, and they hovered around him.
“In the end, I think they didn’t want it to be over,” Brunon said, explaining that when the mural was finally done, they kept insisting they needed to do touch-ups here and there.
It was Brunon who produced the book that tells the story of the treasure of El Paraiso de Maneadero, and when it was published earlier this year, he gave one to each of the students and others who participated.
Danna and her mother each got a copy, and the mom, Maria Magdalena, said she keeps their books sealed in a bag for protection.
“It’s very valuable to me,” she said, “because it was a great achievement, after a lot of hard work, and we’re very proud of them.”
