Sunday before Christmas

It is the Sunday before Christmas. I hope you like the photograph of our crib here in the apartment. I took the photograph last night. The figurines were purchased by Denis on his last visit to Ireland. They look well. The blue material is blue tensel and the lamp was one I purchased in Manor a few months ago. Our crib is a bit like living in Geneva in that it is on three levels. The Three Kings are on the very topmost layer. Our magazine rack is doing duty as a crib support.

As always, Sundays are very quiet here. And today is no exception. There is very little of the Christmas spirit that one associates with Ireland. No carol singers. Scarcely any lights except for a few corporate buildings like the railway station and a few of the banks. None of the streets have Christmas lights. However, if one goes across the border thirty minutes away to France, there you will find lights and lots of them. Now there is something to ponder there. Does the absence of lights in Geneva suggest, yet again, something of the Calvinist influence. If so, pour Jean Calvin has a lot to answer for.

I went to Mass this morning in the Basilica. As always the singing was good. We had our last of a series of four broadcast Masses on Radio Suisse Romande (Espace 2). The reading from Romans appealed to me. I always enjoy Paul when he waxes eloquent on the love of God outpoured in the world. Always a consolation.

Yesterday, I did my book thing. I escaped up to Gaillard where there is a tolerably good “librairie” just at the frontier tram stop. I intended purchasing the current issue of Le Monde Diplomatique but ended up buying a copy of Bernard Henri-Levy’s latest book. Bernard Henri-Levy (BHL) is one of France’s foremost contemporary philosophers and a personal friend of one Nicolas Sarkozy. It is one of the interesting aspects of French politics that it is almost expected that a French President be not only a politician but an intellectual as well. And maybe there lies the problem! Maybe a dash of Bertie would suit them a lot better.

Anyway I am looking forward to getting stuck into BHL over Christmas. He has lots of interesting things to say about the collapse of the Left in Europe. Compulsory reading for ERI people, I should imagine!

Circus in Town and other stuff

I know some of you thought this Circus Apartment thing is a bit of romantic kitsch! No, it is real. The circus has been in town for the last few weeks and is parked outside my door. This is circus on a grand scale. At least two hundred or more trucks, vans and mobile homes to support the whole venture. They have two performances each day, one in the afternoon and one in the evening. I now know all the circus tunes by heart. Thankfully, the show finishes at 9.30pm in the evening.

I have a day off today because of a public holiday unique to Geneva. By rights I should be fasting as the holiday is called Jeûne Genevois (Geneva Fast). It celebrates a famous Protestant victory over the Catholics during the Reformation that was supported by a massive public fast of biblical proportions. Nowadays I guess no one knows why there is a public holiday today. At least no one in the office knew. The information came to light from a Wikipedia search. Anyway I am glad of a day at home.

Michael Murray and John Burke arrive on Saturday. This morning I did more laundry to get ready. I now know that I need to purchase two duvets, can't find where the others have gone. I imagine the students must have taken them away. I have now three complete sets of bed linen which spares me the embarrassment of trying to explain to the guy in the department store why I want single bed sets rather than doubles. Try translating "fitted sheet" into French. If you want to know it's a "drap-housse" or in German, a "Fixleinrtuch". The learning curve is steep here.

Brian Bond has been in touch and we are exchanging emails. I'm full of tips and pieces of advice. But he's on the ball and is looking forward to coming. He will then be the replacement Aussie for Julie Morgan in the office. Incidentally, I have discovered that the Australians have exceeded their national quota for employees at the UN. I discovered that piece of trivia during the week. It puzzled me as I never even knew there was such a thing national quotas. Affirmative action gone haywire. That explains why there are so few Irish. Afraid we might take ove!

Food continues to be a problem. There is a mystery here that I am trying to solve. Why, I ask, is it cheaper to eat at McDonald's than to cook for oneself. I just don't get it. You can have a full Mega-Burger plus Chips meal in McDs for about 12 CHF but it costs at least one and half times that to purchase and cook the stuff yourself. Someone please explain.

Weather still cold. That wind from the north is still slicing across the Plainpalais. The vineyards up in Nyon and along the lakeshore will be worried.

Jim Donovan called on the house phone. I was delighted to hear his voice. He was lucky he caught me at home, though. Normally, I would be in the office.

Greetings to all of you out there in N17man land! And special greetings to MC in Lusaka!

Brian Bond and other Matters

Yesterday I received the news that the third person joining the Geneva team is Brian Bond. I am delighted. Brian is from Australia and is a Christian Brother of the current St. Patrick's Province in Melbourne. I stayed with Brian and Sean in their place in Sunshine in 2006 and have very happy memories of my visit with them. In fact Sunshine as a suburb of Melbourne is not unlike our proposed location in Gaillard, France, on the edge of an industrial area with a mix of long-established residents and incomers. Brian has been working in the social justice field for a long time and has been responsible for some interesting initiatives. He hopes to arrive here towards the end of October. I am gradually getting used to the people in the office here. It is so international. So many languages. Everyone uses English, of course, but it is nice to be able to converse with people in their own language. Sr. Madeleine who is a French-speaking Franciscan Sister keeps on reminding us that we are after all in French-speaking Switzerland. I have enormous sympathy for her point of view. It is always a challenge for international organisations not to get caught in the trap of the Anglophone culture. Diversity is all. The weather has turned much colder. The wind has definitely veered towards the North so something is coming down over Germany from Russia towards us. It is amazing what a difference this makes. Until last night I slept with the windows wide open to catch the fresh breezes. Now I am closing the windows. Soon it will be time for the famous "La Bise", the Alpine winds that seek to sever the legs from the body. But that's another story. I am in a listening and learning mood here. "So listen to wise people and be willing to accept every wise counsel", the Book of Tobit advises. I agree. When starting in a new venture it is essential to keep the head down and to spend a lot of time listening. There are so many nuances of culture and personality to come to terms with in such a short time. I was speaking of windows. I am in the process of getting simple curtains, ready-made, from the department store across the street. Not a simple matter. First, there is the issue of the size of the windows. That requires measurements. Which in turn spawns the purchase of a tape measure. Fine. So now we have curtains. But now they have to be hung. New problem. I can't reach the poles. So this requires a small set of steps. This is how my purchasing cycle goes. Need, assessment and purchase. And always keeping in mind the question will this purchase transfer to the new house when we get there. As if life were not complicated enough. Now some people would find all this fun. Not if you are trying to fit in housekeeping around the work and commute to the office.

Thunderstorm II

It is 9.00pm in the evening here in Geneva. The rain is pouring steadily down, a prelude to another night of rolling thunder and lightning rending the skies. For my own sake, I hope it is not so. I don't want another sleepless night.

I went to work this morning over at the Franciscans. The place is slowly getting back to work after the holidays. It has that beginning of term feeling. There are meetings of a planning sort going on. As the new boy I am not participating in any these just yet. I expect I will once John and the main players come back next week. We had our Wednesday prayer today. MPK would be pleased. It was straight up. Mike O'Neill who led the prayer is an environmentalist so he was saving on paper. We just had one set of sheets which was passed around. The theme was Harvest Blessings. A plate of Autumn fruits was set in front of each person. At various points during the prayer we sampled the fruits. Now there's an idea for Synge Street.

I tried to do two things this afternoon. Get a Swisscom SIM card and purchase a monthly travel pass. Failed in both. The travel pass requires one to have a passport photograph. There are three in the railway station. About a million teenagers on back-to-school business were also on a similar quest. Against that lot I lost out. When I finally got to a machine, I found it only accepted coins and I had just notes in my pocket. Arrgh! As for the SIM card. I have yet to see a phone shop. Where is Camden Street when you need it!

So I came home to the apartment and set to work putting it to rights. I hauled some funiture around to create the beginning of a community room. There is a TV but the cable is dead, frayed and looks like it was chewed by a dog. There is a small Hi-FI system that has nothing attached. Dead. And in addition there are two bunk beds that are pretty immovable. Moy Hitchen will have to sleep there when he comes. But I did succeed in setting up lights, moving a set of shelves. Another week, a few lights, candles and some pictures and it won't be too bad. Who said Geneva has to be drab!

Supper this evening consisted of the second half of my steak. Meat is expensive here, I'm finding out. I also had rosti, sort of hash browns. Very popular in Switzerland and easy to cook. Spuds just don't seem to exist in their native form. Maybe they take too much energy to cook.

I'm going to ask Colm Griffey to provide Michael Murray with a few small Edmund Rice items. I need to have a connection with the congregational spirit.

There is a church nearby. German-speaking Dominican parish. I tried to get in the church this morning. It appeared to be locked. Will try again over the week-end. Parish of St. Boniface. Across the Circus Square is another parish, the Latin American Spanish parish of St. Gabriel. Choices, choices, choices.

Thunderstorm

I am at work today in the Franciscan International/Edmund Rice International offices at 37-39 rue de Vermont.

Hardly any sleep last night. An Alpine thunderstorm welcomed me to Geneva. I have never experienced anything like it. For about three hours it crashed, rolled and flashed overhead. The lightning strikes lit up the night sky and some, I'm convinced, landed in the yard behind the apartment. It was a hot, muggy night so I wasn't sleeping well anyway. The storm really put paid to any chance of sleeping until about four in the morning.

I am shocked to hear that MPK is moving to Wexford. Synge Street is emptying out. Does this mean Dan is coming back?

Finally, just to update you on the Circus. I saw the horses being exercised this morning. How boring for them. They just trotted in a circle all morning. Do they really enjoy this? Where are the animal rights people when one needs them.

Geneva Arrival

Well, it has finally happened! I am now in Geneva - definitively. No longer the prospect of going home after a few days. No more the luxury of the Franciscan friary or the Mon Repos Hotel. I am now ensconced in 19 avenue de Maine, in the Plainpalais district. Did I mention that the apartment is called the Circus Apartment? No, well, that is what it is called. Number 19 is in between the hairdressers and the key-cutting shop in the Plainpalais district. And, right on cue, the Circus has arrived in town right opposite my apartment. It is the KNIE circus. With luck I hope to avoid it. Although I do see some of the animals parading around the enclosure.

Mike Hasenmueller met me at the airport. We got a taxi into town. It cost 50 CHF, about 34 EUR. Steep, but, hey, this is Geneva. And that included the tip. We had some difficulty getting in to the apartment because Mike did not know the code. He had to call on the phone. After he left I surveyed my surroundings. It is pretty basic. Not one single comfortable chair for napping in. There is a set of plastic garden chairs like the ones you see all over Africa, India and Latin America. This is the Justice apartment after all.

Not for long. I went out to make my first purchases: one expresso coffee machine, two cushions in red imitation velour, some gruyere cheese, organge juice, a piece of steak, potatoes and some muesli. These items have begun to fill up the empty space in the food larder. Yes, I also got some milke, the UHT type. My local "tabac" did not have the real thing.

The apartment has Internet and it is quite fast. So Skype should work just fine. If anyone feels inclined to Skype me.

I cooked my steak this evening, halving it so that I have a piece for tomorrow. The spuds took an age. And were still not "done". The Swiss don't eat potatoes. They prefer chocolate, cheese and fondues. Heidi food!

I did listen to Radio Suisse Romande, a lecture on the nature of happiness according to Spinoza and Kant. I need to listen to a lot of this high-brow French if I am to get by. I strayed into a bookstore earlier in the evening and was eyed up and down by a suspicious bookseller. It was my canary yellow Hermanos Cristianos polo shirt that did not fit. It looks out of place here. The Swiss prefer drab.

So this is how the new EUP community begins! A preference for drab.

Unsung Heroes

When one thinks of Cardinal Newman College in Buenos Aires one can be forgiven for thinking that it is a prestigious Christian Brother institution with a remarkable reputation for achievement in academics and sports. It is all of these. But it is also more. Since I’ve been here I’ve come to know Newman as a remarkable community of people. There was a time when I myself strove to facilitate a community of teachers and learns in a context of mutual respect, inclusion and commitment. Here, I see this ideal in action.

It is in no small measure due to the leadership of the current Head, Alberto Olivera. Alberto is a lawyer, has a Masters degree in Education and has wide connections withe the Buenos Aires legal, educational and social justice community. He has facilitated in recent years the deepening of Newman’s connection with the local community and the city. His interest in social justice is clear and his commitment to its promotion shows itself in the support he offers to a wide range of initiatives.

Newman boys work with children with disabilities, the elderly and with people in the local barrio, La Cava. Each year they mount a two-week mission in the interior of the country where they assist in catechetics and evangelisation among the poor of a city called Azul. The mothers of Newman are active in providing clothing and food to poor people living in a rural barrio outside the city. Newman has developed a relationship with businesses in the city and through this relationship has established a food bank. They even have a special NGO for this work called “Teniendo Puentes”, building bridges. What is very clear is that Newman has developed a strong ethos of solidarity with the poor that is quite remarkable. So, when you think of Newman, don’t just think “rugby”, think also “solidarity”.

Of course, all of this did not happen in the last two or three years. There are some remarkable people here in Newman. Among them are people like Jim Doherty and Paddy (“Pablo”) Keohane. Jim goes out to the poorer barrios delivering food supplies and making contact with the local people. I had the privilege of accompanying him on one such visit. Pablo Keohane is a one-person NGO, retreat-team, youth organisation and spiritual guide. His influence on the boys is unparalleled in my experience. He is active 24/7 with the boys helping them with retreats, leading the mission teams, working with them in their social justice projects, and generally being available to them.

When I asked Alberto Olivera, the headmaster, to what he would attribute the strong social service ethos of Newman, he replied without hesitation: “Brother Paul”.

Throughout the Latin American Region of the Christian Brothers there are many people who are unsung heroes and genuine pathfinders for a new way of being Brother today. People like Paul Keohane are certainly among them.

Battle Weary and Exhausted

I am within a few days of leaving Argentina for home. I am counting down the days and looking forward to going back. I can feel the exhaustion and the battle fatigue. This week has been exceptionally busy. Because Newman is a school with so many different groups, there were lots of meetings and presentations. Yesterday, I gave a presentation on Solidarity with the Poor to the Third Year students, about seventy in total. The event took place in the Library. As usual, I had prepared carefully and was fully multimedia operational. I even included a photograph of Felilpe Contepomi to gain some favour with the home side. The presentation went down well and I got a very warm applause response at the end. But it was hard work.

Yesterday, I visited one of the worst slums in Latin America, a place called La Cava. A teacher from the school, Silvia, came with us as a translator. She had never been in this slum before. We walked precariously on stepping stones over the flowing rivers of sewage and tred our way warily in the narrow alleys of the slum. We were accompanied by Padre Annif, the Abbe Pierre of the La Cava slum, without whose protection we would not have lasted five minutes in the place. It was an education. Sheer, harsh grinding poverty is smelly, filthy, diseased and,yet, somehow human despite the misery. It is hard to explain at times.



One of the ironies of the situation is that teachers from Newman visited Zambia this Easter to immerse themselves in the experience of third-world poverty. Here was poverty on a scale that equals if not exceeds that of some of the worst African slums, and it is only about two miles from the school. Few Newman people set foot in this place. However, what also needs to be said is that under the leadership of Alberto Olivera, the current principal of the college, Newman is becoming a place of strong social commitment and the college is bringing a great deal of intelligent social action to bear on the problems. I have been impressed day after day with the different forms of social solidarity that have been initiated by the school. We have nothing on this scale in Ireland. Period. A lot of credit has to go to Paddy Keohane who has done so much to conscientise the students of Newman.

Earlier this week I had meetings with Raúl Vinuesa, an international jurist currently sitting on the International Court of Justice in the Hague. I also met with Emilio Cardena, former Argentine Ambassador to the United Nations, and current Co-Chair of the International Bar Association. These are heavy hitters, to use the jargon. Everywhere I am receiving the same message. Liberation theology is dead, and deserves to be dead. Now all the discussion and thinking is about an integral non-political vision of human rights and social justice. It will take me some time to come to terms with this. But I have heard the same message from so many people that there is clearly a basis for this new way of thinking. Most recently, the Latin American bishops gathered at Aparecida gave voice to this "nuevo camino". There is no longer any allegiance to what we used to call the "preferential option for the poor". This is considered here to smack too much of ideological thinking. Still, I notice that there are references to the concept in the Aparecida document from CELAM V.

We had an extended supper last night in the community with a lively discussion fueled by a few bottles of Malbec wine. Present were Stan Hayes from Woodford, County Galway, Jim Doherty from Oldcastle, County Meath, and Ferdi Foley from Tipperary. Paddy Keohane and tom O'Connell live in another house although they both work in Newman.

I am resigning myself to the fact that I shall probably leave Buenos Aires without having seen the city and without having seen the River Plate. I was to have gone to Montevideo this week but the airports were socked in by dense fog. And neither airport has the advanced radar to permit operations during fog.

Roll on Wednesday when I arrive back in Dublin.

Buenos Aires at Last!

Well, I am on the last leg of my swing through America Latina. I arrived here in Buenos Aires from Asuncion. The airport run in Asuncion was without incident. It took about forty minutes in the dawdling traffic of a slow Asuncion Saturday. The airport is tiny. No milling crowds. There were only two flights last night, one to Sao Paulo and the other, mine, a TAM flight to Buenos Aires.

It was a clear moonlit night and I had the aisle seat. The moon was full, a harvest moon, and it spread a silver sheen on the waters of the Rio Parana that flows into the Rio de la Plata. I was fascinated watching the occasional flash of moon on water as we flew down to Buenos Aires. The whole area is a web of rivers, meanderings, and lakes. I am looking forward to my first real sight of the Rio de la Plata today.

Ferdi Foley met me of the flight. The new pro-tourism policy of the Argentinian Government meant that for once I was first out of the tiny tourist immigration line. No problems. My bag arrived quickly. Since arriving in America Latina I take the precaution of availing of the pleastic wrap service at the airports to prevent interference with my bag. It costs from $6 to $8 but the peace of mine is well worth the small outlay. The machine effectively shrink wraps the case in blue plastic. It would take determination and a sharp knife to get through it.

Buenos Aires from the air is a sight to behold. It is an enormous city by any standards. Twelve million people live here. The first shock was on the ride across the city to the house. It was like being back in Europe, fast motorway lanes, toll booths, tall buildings, neon signs and a sense of order and purpose. Not a shanty town in sight.

An even bigger shock awaits you when you arrive at Colegio Cardinal Newman. There is a sprucely uniformed young man to open the door. The place positively gleams and the smell of polish hangs in the air. Once inside the Brother's residence, one could be forgiven for thinking that one was back in Ireland. The language is English and the conversation is about home. I have been speaking Spanish so much in the last few weeks that it was difficult for me to switch over at first.

In the house at present are Jim Doherty, Ferdi Foley and Stan Hayes. Hubert Wall is in Israel. Paddy Keohane was at table but he lives in another house. A priest from Doon was staying overnight before flying off this morning. Which means that we got Mass in bright and early at 8.00 o'clock.

Juan Casey was also in the house. He left this morning for the airport with the SVD priest. Juan is flying back this morning to Cochabamba, not a direct flight since he will be on the ground in Asuncion for about thirty minutes.

This week I am crossing the Rio de la Plata to Montevideo with Ferdi Foley. It should be an interesting experience, crossing the wide expanse of water that was the location for the famous duel between the HMS Hood and the Bismarck during WWII.

Twenty Years in Paraguay

Last night there was a modest celebration here of twenty years of the Brothers in Paraguay. It was organised by the Comunidad: Kevin, Jack, Carlos, Miguel, Luis Henriquez and Williams. People from the Banada were invited, catechists, volunteers, Familia Edmundo Rice. Some from the prison ministry were also present, as were a few ex-Brothers in the area.

Music was provided by Carlos, Luis Henriquez and Williams. Carlos is a North American Brothers working with Miguel in prison ministry. Luis Henriquez and Williams are postulants.

There was a simple ceremony involving a symbolic eucharistic sharing. Eduardo McArdle spoke of his memories of the Banada in the early days, about the coming of Brothers such as Paddy Keohane, Bob McAteer, Roger O´Donohue and Joe Tynan. He referred to his first impressions of the Banada, the flooding, the animals, the hens, the horse and carts, the modest houses. He mentioned the drowning of a catechist in the river. And he also recalled the great flood in the 1990s when the Banada was overwhelmed. Some people were in tears as these memories came alive again. Eduardo was very moved himself. He is a man much loved by the people.

Miguel spoke about the prison ministry and how it struggled in the early years.. He recalled the famous fire when the education block was burned. Thirteen prisoners died in that fire. It is an enduring memory for Miguel. So many of the prisoners are from the Banada barrio.

Jack Casey spoke about the Founder and how his story relates to the reality of the people here in Paraguay today. Jack is very committed to the Comunidades de Base. The Banada is very lucky to have Jack and also the main driver behind the whole project, Dominican priest, Padre Pedro from Leon in Spain. I met Pedro during the week, a highly intelligent, energetic and personable Spaniard. Latin America needs more Pedros.

Kevin had written a beautiful Eucharistic Prayer which would have made Michael Morwood proud. After the eucharistic sharing gifts were presented to all in the form of new T-shirts celebrating the Twenty Years of the Christian Brothers in Paraguay.

This was followed by a feast which included chorizos, empanadas, pizza and assorted salads. There was wine and beer. No Latin American fiesta is complete without music and dancing. So the guitars came out and the stars twinkled over the barrio as the Banada celebrated its love for the Brothers. A magical night for all.

Defender of the Poor

Hno. Miguel Lynch in front of the Administration Building in the prison at 6.00am

In the Courthouse
Today is my birthday. I never thought that I would ever spend a birthday in court. But I did, today. I was with Miguel Lynch in the Asuncion High Court. He goes there regularly as the representative of the Asuncion Diocesan Pastoral Care for Young People in Prison.

It is amazing to be with him. He dresses better than most of the lawyers and is a commanding presence throughout the courthouse building. Everyone knows him, judges, lawyers, prisoners, guards, media and NGOs. It makes one proud to be with a man who walks so tall in the service of the poorest of the poor.

Miguel is quiet spoken and authoritative as he moves around the labyrinthine bureacracy of the judicial system here in Paraguay. He stops to chat with a mother whose son has just been granted bail. He has a word for a friendly prison guard who is there to collect one of the young people condemned to serve time. He can crack a joke with the waiting media. He deftly manages to get a report on a young person awaiting trial through one of his many informal agents in the system. He submits formal requests to the prosecuting judge for permission to lodge reports on four young people accused of a variety of crimes from fraud to aggravated assault. It was interesting to note that in a few of the offices the local Paraguayan Christian Brothers desk calendar was in use. This is advocacy with style.

The Adult Prison in Tacumbú
Yesterday, I went with Hermano Chuck Fitzsimmons, American, to the local adult jail. To visit a Paraguayan city jail is to deliver oneself to the maws of a hellish system. You hand over your passport. Your hand is stamped for ID purposes. Various gates open and close. Around each gate are clustered groups of guards, hucksters, pimps and inmates. We sat in a cell with a group of young people from the Banado. The smell of human waste lay heavy in the air. Some of the young people do not have adequate clothing to protect themselves against the cold. The food is barely adequate. They are exposed to all kinds of dangers in prison, of which rape is probably the least worrisome. We prayed. Some read from the Scriptures. For a few moments light pierced the darkness.

Groups of evangelical volunteers roam the prison. Because we call ourselves "Hermanos", the evangelicals think we are one of them. They invited us to visit the Evangelical wings of the jail. What a transformation. The cells are brightly painted. There is good furniture and bedding, adequate lighting, pleasant surroundings for prison visits, and most of all access to different forms of education. Many of the prisoners the Evangelical wing are paid workers of the church. All are neatly dressed and motivated. No drugs. No alcohol. No smoking. The contrast with the situation of other prisoners is so dramatic. What makes the difference? The money being poured into Latin America from the evangelical churches in North America. No wonder it is likely that South American will be mainly evangelical in the coming years. Meanwhile the official church in Latin America worries about the proper way to receive Communion.

I saw one man in the jail who had rags for clothes, a dirty blanket to keep out the cold and no shoes, except for some strips of cardboard wrapped with wire. I saw another man who was clearly American, smoking dope, and wondering about his girl-friend in Los Angeles. Probably in for drug trafficking. If ever you saw the movie Midnight Express, the scenes in Tacumbú are virtually identically to those of the film.

One of the ironic moments was being shown around the Catholic church in the jail by an Evangelical. Even more surprising when he found out who we were, he mentioned Christy Turner teaching English to the inmates in this prison at the back of the Church. Te felicito Christy! What a strange world we inhabit.


A Day with Miguel
On Wednesday, I spent the whole day with Miguel Lynch. Up at 4.30am. We leave the house at 5.00am to reach the prison by 6.00am. This is the hour of the change of shifts in the prison. It is still dark and dawn is just breaking. The air is chilly and there are hints of frost on the grass. We make our way around the various cell blocks. The young people are in dormitories of about six to eight people. The bathrooms reek of urine and human waste. But the beds are clean and there are blankets. All supplied by Miguel Lynch, not by the State.

Miguel has a word for each young person as he makes his rounds. He moves fast. Within 30 minutes we have covered all the cell blocks and seen 110 young people face the day. It is clear they have huge respect for Miguel and he is greeted everywhere by a smile. There is no mistaking who is in charge. It is a joy to watch him relate to these young people rejected by society. He knows their families. Many kids have had brothers in jail. Poverty creates serial imprisonment.

We have a meeting with the prison staff. All are poorly paid. Uninterested. But it is clear that Miguel as Prison Governor is making a difference. Since he took over the jail, all officers and staff show up for work and on time. He is doing his best to raise their morale. He asks one of his people to go to the pharmacy to buy medicine for two of the staff who sick. The money comes from the Church pastoral fund. For another he provides a warm coat against the biting cold of the day that is beginning.

Only after two hours do we get to eat. The breakfast is tea and a bun. Nothing else. The rest of the morning goes on office work and visits to the classes where the kids are attempting to access the education that has been denied them up to now. Some go to work in the garden. Some are simply hanging around, huddled around fires chatting. Later in the day, some of the more motivated young people play basketball.

The day ends at 6.00pm with the final roll call of the day. We make our way back to Asunción, a distance of about 40 kilometers. Miguel talks about his plans to further improve the prison if he can find some money. The State pays only a modest amount for food, nothing else. All other resourcing has to come from families, NGOs, the Church or donations from individuals. Public policy still operates on the basis that young people who go off the rails deserve to rot in some hellhole created by adults.

It is 7.00pm when we get home. And Miguel Lynch does this every day except Sunday, and even Sunday afternoon he spends in the office.

The Peter McVerrey of Asuncion.
God bless him.

Adios!

In the Banado

Yesterday afternoon I went with Juancito Casey to the Banada. This is an area of Asuncion virtually surrounded by the river on all sides. It is very prone to flooding which is one of the reasons that the city authorities will not permit houses in the area. Most of the people who live there are extremely poor, making a living gathering trash for recycling or selling small items on the streets. It is very reminiscent of the way of life of the people in the Cancha of Cochabamba. It is a tough, unremitting and precarious way of life. People make just about enough money to live at a basic level.

Juancito has a centre for catechists in the area. The catechists are young people from around the local area, who at least have had the benefit of a secondary school education. They teach the young primary school kids the basic elements of their Christian faith in premises that would have been condemned in Ireland even in the last century. Juancito himself is the Coordinator of the project although there is also a lady who acts as the main catechetical coordinator.

It is interesting to be with Jack in the Banada area. He is well-known and well-loved by the people. He appears to know almost everyone by name, a remarkable feat in itself. It is like Ireland about seventy years ago. Everyone chats and talks. The kids come up to say Hello. It is another world long past for the rest of us.