Growing forest: helping, I help myself

Publish date 12-07-2011

by Marco Vitale

What is the point of helping others when I need help !? The 1150 guests of the Arsenale della Speranza make themselves available to improve this great metropolis ...
 
 

ST. PAUL. What is the point of helping others when I need help !? The 1150 guests welcomed at the Arsenale della Speranza in San Paolo must have thought this when the SERMIG Fraternity began to talk about the GROWING FOREST and to invite each of them to be part of it.
 
 
It is in the DNA of the Arsenale to involve guests in the activities promoted: in the history of this house there is a bit of the history, the experience, the ability of the more than 26 thousand men welcomed in these 11 years. It is normal that every day, in turn, a group of them devote time and energy to cleaning the common areas, changing the sheets, maintaining green areas ... but the FOREST THAT GROWS proposal goes further, it means bringing these activities outside the Arsenale, transform this availability into an Action of solidarity for the benefit of others, of the city !.
 
The value of "restitution" - freely giving our gifts, our time, the goods we use every day, to serve the brothers - cannot be a privilege of a few, but a strength common to all. The FOREST THAT GROWS is also born from this assumption.
 
 
 

What does it mean?
Even with that legitimate question - "What's the point?" - still pending, around 150 guests accepted the challenge. The GROWING FOREST, launched throughout Brazil, requires each group to promote solidarity actions, starting from the most urgent needs of their own reality. Even our guests - divided into groups, each accompanied by an internal Social Service operator - begin by mapping the neighborhood: "What are the things wrong? What would we like to change? Where could we intervene?". An animated confrontation is born and the awareness emerges that often it is their own attitudes that degrade the image of the neighborhood. The example of one of the many real estate brochures that some of them distribute at traffic lights is emblematic: in the map depicting our street, the Arsenale does not appear, it simply does not exist.
 
 
"We want to exist" - is the reaction of many - giving an example of good! -. The spirit of the GROWING FOREST is right here. The reflections continue and we arrive at the first exit ...
 
 
On a Thursday morning ...
The departure is scheduled for 8.00. Three men, seated near the main door, await the other boys in the group. Silvia, our "Japanese" Social Worker, starts distributing T-shirts. A yellow sun and a green "V" are printed on the white cotton, reminiscent of the image of a child raising his arms to the sky. It is the sign that we have given ourselves. The shirt worn shows who, this morning, chose to work hard (for free!) To help someone else.
 
Silvia gives the last indications: "We will go to a special school, the pupils are disabled children with motor and communication difficulties". Everyone listens. Before leaving, two boys take the flags of peace and the whole group queues up. I take some pictures: it will be one of my tasks during the morning.
 
We cross the Mooca district. We are a splash of color that does not go unnoticed ... for a few seconds we capture the attention of those who pass us quickly to go to work. A man stops and asks us what we are doing. I think of the stories of each of those who are part of the group: incredible stories, made up of personal tragedies, of efforts, of failures. Crossing those streets, seeing other men sitting on street corners, or lying on makeshift sofas under the viaducts, is like going through their lives a bit: our guests know what it means to spend their days or nights like this. Some approach us, recognize us: the man with the cart who sells sweets proudly shows his activity, recalling the period he spent in the Arsenal.
 
Finally we are in front of the school, I take a photo of the plaque: "SCHOOL 4E". The guardian opens us and we are in the hall. The windows are protected by railings, but this is the case in every house in the city: everyone has to defend himself. While we are waiting for the director, the guardian recognizes the colors of the flags and begins to tell us that his life has also been crossed by hunger, by the road ... he too thanks the Arsenal because there he found a way and today he work. He says that to get the job he had to deny several times to live in a foster home, until they trusted him, but he doesn't forget.
 
The director is a very sweet person. She greets everyone. She proposes to let us visit the school. The group queues up and follows this little woman down the long corridors. One after the other, the doors open and many small heads emerge, hands full of colors, eyes like question marks. The teachers ask the children to say hello and our men, not very used to them, respond embarrassed with a few smiles. Each door opens a small world: the classrooms of music therapy, art therapy, etc. The director proudly displays her end-of-year jobs: small handbags made from milk cartons painted by the boys and then the clay puppets.
 
 
Who is poor?
Overflowing with aluminum containers, pots, pans and shelves. The director asks us to help them clean up and repaint everything: the school needs funds and, to collect them, they will sell this material by organizing a bazaar. It begins. It doesn't take many words to organize the work. After a few minutes all the sinks are already occupied by large pots in the balance and the first shelves are passed with the glass paper and then painted.
 
 
Soon, between a pot collected on the ground, an impregnated sponge and a bucket of paint, a relationship is created, an emotion is created, which begin to give that sense that we all seek. We are made to give something to others: the FOREST begins to take shape. In the general hustle and bustle, I take photos of the good that is being created. A break for a sip of water and we start again. At lunchtime, our T-shirts are soaked, some faces are smeared with paint splatters. The headmistress accompanies us to the school canteen, where the pupils observe us with curiosity. The teachers explain to them that we have come to help the school become more beautiful!
 
 
We serve ourselves at the counter, the dishes struggle to contain the ration of rice, beans, meat and potatoes. We start eating, some with our heads down. The problems and misadventures of these men today are confronted with children who, on the other hand, are unable to walk, to speak. Who is poorer? Even those who think of themselves as the poorest of the poor begin to see the strength and the possibilities that he can count on and that only he can decide how to use. Problems continue to be problems, to be faced and lived, but we are discovering a greater dimension that surrounds us and helps us: by helping, I help myself.
 
 
As a team!
The children keep looking at us and we look at them. The thumb pointing towards the sky - so characteristic of Brazil - opens many doors and now it seems to make more sense. A few smiles escape, a child approaches and asks us the most logical question he could ask us: "Can you play soccer against us?". Yes, because for him we are a team: we all have the same shirt, we even have flags.
 
After the encore of rice and meat, the pupils return to classes, not before greeting us one by one. We get back to work and at the end of the day the courtyard is a carpet of pots drying in the sun and the shelves are as good as new. I take one last photo of that piece of the world we have helped to improve.
 
Poor who help other poor people. Is it enough for me, us, who feel deprived of this or that thing, to be able to see the wealth, the potential that everyone has and that many others need to survive? Is it enough to move and move the world? It is not difficult! Thinking about helping others, when I need help, makes sense! Now, the question is another: "Is anyone willing to listen to the noise of this growing FOREST?".
 
 
THE ARSENAL OF HOPE
When a man is welcomed into the Arsenale he enters with his burden, his problems, his story, which is almost always one of great suffering, marginalization, loneliness. So many misadventures that give a heavy identity: you know you are the last, he tells you everything, and you can get used to it! But the possibility of catching your breath in a safe place, of finding some refreshment, someone who welcomes you without judging you, can reopen a glimmer of light. The Arsenale offers this opening, proposes a method and, at the same time, a severity that, if accepted, can help to start over.

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