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.