Boston has residents of all kinds and is home to a good number of refugees from all over the world. I just never expected to meet any under my own roof.
I've recently begun to learn a little bit more about the people I'm working with, and have come to realize that the Bakery Cafe is much more than just a job training program. They do have some apprentices who are recently out of rehab or prison; In fact, one of our guys is graduating from the halfway house this week and will be getting a cake at work. However, the Bakery Cafe also employs people from the Dudley/Lower Roxbury area as part of the Dudley Square Revitalization efforts and, most importantly for a lot of them, hires without regard to CORI (Criminal Offender Record Information) scores.
But then there are the dishwasher and baker. I don't have their full stories, but I do know that our dishwasher is a Somali refugee with limited but functional English skills who is currently working to support his wife, 5 children and 2 nephews who live with him. One of his older nephews has recently also been hired by the Cafe after a brief probationary period of half-shifts. Our baker, the keeper of muffins, cupcakes, pineapple upside down cake, brownies and all other things delicious, is the tiniest Cambodian woman you ever did see. At probably 95 pounds soaking wet, I don't know how she lifts the giant bins of muffin batter, but she finds a way and is by far the most industrious of the crew, and always working with a smile, and is eager to giggle her way through teach me the ways of muffin-making, half in English and half in gestures and demonstrations.
John Leary House, one of HH's affordable housing units, is also home to an Iraqi family who has been living in Boston for several years undergoing medical treatment. Before coming to Boston, the family fell victim to a previously-unexploded IED which killed the mother, severely disabled the father and badly burnt the younger of the sons who now has mottled skin (from grafts) on a large portion of his body and left him with one ear and a portion of his scalp without hair. So, in the meantime, the boys, now 9 and 7, are living in Boston, attending school, have developed impeccable English, fight and help each other like brothers, and love Playstation and red Jolly Ranchers. Last night the HH crew had the pleasure of keeping the kids, as the father is currently in the hospital, and had a good time pushing them in the hammock in the common room, watching the YouTube videos they insisted were essential we see, and taking in Rat Race with them. All while the younger was running around in his bears-playing-basketball underpants. He may be missing a finger and a toe (his big toe was transplanted as a make-shift thumb on one hand, but he's still missing one of the fingers) but he can play sports like any other kid his age and loves baseball just as much. Kids' resiliency always amazes me.
In the soup kitchen, we get mostly what I consider "economic refugees." The aren't refugees in the same sense as the boys or Bakery workers, in that they don't have official refugee status but, no matter whether they have any kind of papers or not, these men (mostly Central American) were forced to flee their home countries in search of work after US policies collapsed or greatly damaged the economic systems in their own countries. These men have it the hardest of all because they are not eligible for the same resources and assistance that other refugees would be, and thus come be in our kitchen every morning.
Because Haley House runs such diversified set of programs, we get all kinds here. It's interesting for me to see that we're able to make a difference both for men who have lived in Boston their entire lives and for new arrivals.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
The Guest Policy
2+ nights= 1 kitchen shift.
Haley House welcomes guests. Everyone loves to meet peoples' friends, families, significant others, and even some strangers passing through town who come recommended by other Catholic Worker houses, and get to know them. The only charge is that if a person is staying for more than one night, they work a soup kitchen shift.
Accommodations are modest-- we've got a couple of lofts with single or full beds which will have most likely unmatching but definitely clean sheets and bathrooms are all shared-- but that's not a bad deal for a place to stay, copious amounts of delicious food (though for the most part subject to whatever we've got in the house at the time) and awesome company. It also gives the people we love a chance to see and experience what we do.
We've already had a couple of interns' friends come stay for a few days and had a great time exchanging stories over barbecues on our rooftop deck and washing dishes in the kitchen. If you'd like to visit me and are looking for an alternative to the (expensive) touristy side of Boston, at least think about it.
Haley House welcomes guests. Everyone loves to meet peoples' friends, families, significant others, and even some strangers passing through town who come recommended by other Catholic Worker houses, and get to know them. The only charge is that if a person is staying for more than one night, they work a soup kitchen shift.
Accommodations are modest-- we've got a couple of lofts with single or full beds which will have most likely unmatching but definitely clean sheets and bathrooms are all shared-- but that's not a bad deal for a place to stay, copious amounts of delicious food (though for the most part subject to whatever we've got in the house at the time) and awesome company. It also gives the people we love a chance to see and experience what we do.
We've already had a couple of interns' friends come stay for a few days and had a great time exchanging stories over barbecues on our rooftop deck and washing dishes in the kitchen. If you'd like to visit me and are looking for an alternative to the (expensive) touristy side of Boston, at least think about it.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
The City
Living in Boston is like living in the Stuff White People Like Blog.
South End (where Haley House is located), especially.On the weekends and the occasional afternoon, I've found the time and energy to explore the city a little, and this is what I've found: Celtics fever, farmers' markets, teeny little art galleries galore, sensible shoes, ethnic restaurants, dubstep, more non-profits than rats per square mile, well-dressed 30-something gay men, cannoli shops, embarrassing work-out programs on the Common, (classical music) concert halls, prestigious universities and well-to-do white people sipping organic/fair trade coffee while wearing fleece pullovers (because there is nothing that a dutiful white person likes more in life than dressing up on the weekends in head-to-toe LL Bean and hiking with their giant dogs and lamenting the state of the environment and society at large).
Sometimes it's nice to be in a place where it's expected that people are socially conscious, well informed and eat granola, but I think I nearly started dancing on the sidewalk one day when a car drove by with the windows down blasting Reggaeton. People here go out to bars, listen to music, etc. but I guess I'm just missing that Southern/SoFla soul I've gotten used to over the past few years.
For now, though, I'm having fun. On nice days, my Charlie Card and I ride on up to North End, and I get a pistachio cannoli for lunch and sit in the park and read and stick my toes in the fountain. There are certainly worse ways to spend an afternoon. Usually, I'll hit up Haymarket, too, which is kind of a giant, London-style farmers' market where I can get anything from black berries to plantains 5 for $1 to halaal meat ("Try out fresh killed goat!").
Don't get me wrong-- it's not that there aren't black people or speakers of other languages in Boston; It's just that they're exactly where the upper-middle-class white establishment wants them: confined to Roxbury and Somerville (Quebecois, Germans and Scandinavians excluded; they're honorary "white people"). Boston is a pretty segregated city which, to me, makes places like South End kind of boring. I guess that's just more incentive to venture to other parts of the city on the weekends.
South End (where Haley House is located), especially.On the weekends and the occasional afternoon, I've found the time and energy to explore the city a little, and this is what I've found: Celtics fever, farmers' markets, teeny little art galleries galore, sensible shoes, ethnic restaurants, dubstep, more non-profits than rats per square mile, well-dressed 30-something gay men, cannoli shops, embarrassing work-out programs on the Common, (classical music) concert halls, prestigious universities and well-to-do white people sipping organic/fair trade coffee while wearing fleece pullovers (because there is nothing that a dutiful white person likes more in life than dressing up on the weekends in head-to-toe LL Bean and hiking with their giant dogs and lamenting the state of the environment and society at large).
Sometimes it's nice to be in a place where it's expected that people are socially conscious, well informed and eat granola, but I think I nearly started dancing on the sidewalk one day when a car drove by with the windows down blasting Reggaeton. People here go out to bars, listen to music, etc. but I guess I'm just missing that Southern/SoFla soul I've gotten used to over the past few years.
For now, though, I'm having fun. On nice days, my Charlie Card and I ride on up to North End, and I get a pistachio cannoli for lunch and sit in the park and read and stick my toes in the fountain. There are certainly worse ways to spend an afternoon. Usually, I'll hit up Haymarket, too, which is kind of a giant, London-style farmers' market where I can get anything from black berries to plantains 5 for $1 to halaal meat ("Try out fresh killed goat!").
Don't get me wrong-- it's not that there aren't black people or speakers of other languages in Boston; It's just that they're exactly where the upper-middle-class white establishment wants them: confined to Roxbury and Somerville (Quebecois, Germans and Scandinavians excluded; they're honorary "white people"). Boston is a pretty segregated city which, to me, makes places like South End kind of boring. I guess that's just more incentive to venture to other parts of the city on the weekends.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Men
The guys that come into the soup kitchen are the raison d'etre of Haley House.
Occasionally they are loud, lewd or grumpy but, overwhelmingly, they are grateful because they know that Haley House is a unique kind of soup kitchen. We are the only one in town that doesn't have a security guard, and doesn't have a metal detector. Long ago, someone made a leap of faith to trust the men for the sake of building community and it has paid off. Now, when there is an altercation or some kind of situation, the men generally take care of it themselves, in defense of the sanctity of that community, and the staff rarely have to become involved. They value the atmosphere that Haley House provides and will be the first ones to tell someone he's being a jerk or take him outside to walk it off after an argument. Normally, we don't have any problems but, just to make sure, each shift has what we call a "vibe," which is the Haley House title for bouncer. The vibe sits by the door and makes sure those men who are barred don't try to come in, keep an eye and an ear out for brewing problems and, mostly, just chat with the guys.
Even more varied than the people who work at Haley House are the patrons, though they all have one thing in common: they're down on their luck. Most of the guys that come in are homeless, but some also come from the subsidized housing in the area. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference, though. The ones who sleep outside are usually fairly identifiable. There are also those, though, that stay at Pinestreet Inn, the local shelter, every night where they eat, can do their laundry and are required to take a shower so they end up fairly clean, cleanshaven and wearing clean clothes. Pinestreet also kicks them out at 5:30 am, which results in a cluster of grumpy men waiting outside our doors every morning, many of whom work either as day laborers or out at the docks and just want to eat and be on their way. Many of the men we serve are on disability for mental illness of some kind, a few sufferers of PTSD, which is sometimes obvious and sometimes just manifests itself in slightly awkward behavior. A few of them had prior life traumas (death of a loved one, accident of some sort) that caused a break or a change in behavior, and for some of them those incidents happen every day ( getting beat up for being homeless, gang rape in prisons and shelters, etc.) A good number of them are also chronic alcoholics who have alienated themselves from their families and cannot hold down a job, and there are even a few crack or heroin addicts, and I'm learning to tell the signs as I get to know the guys better and better. I'd say a majority of men have spent time in prison which makes employment difficult to find, but has also made a few want to turn their lives around, making some extremely polite and hardworking and some religious zealots. Then there are a few who are simply migrant workers of documentation status unknown to me who have no one in the area except one another and little income or knowledge of their rights or the resources available to them.
Every once in a while these differences in mannerisms and capabilities becomes a problem. Some men don't speak, they just sign what they want; One man asks for a 5 sugars every day while holding up 3 fingers; I'm fairly sure a couple of them can't read; and one man literally has lost control of his bowels in the middle of the dining area a few times before. However, they generally aren't a problem, and are never barred unless they have a chronic problem with malicious behavior. There are so many men, they're bound to cover a spectrum of capabilities and present a variety of challenges.
Over the course of the past few weeks, though, I've gotten to know a few of them. I'm quickly learning names, and when we eat breakfast with them, we end up getting free chess lessons or hearing some amazing stories. There are men from Kenya, Britain, Uganda and all over Latin America, and some that have traveled pretty extensively with the military. I even got to see bullet wound scars from a former Ugandan soldier this morning. Many have PhDs or expertise in crafts like shipbuilding. I'm constantly amazed by how much I'm learning from the men. A few even eagerly put up with my broken Spanish and that of a couple of the other volunteers and interns. I have a favorite little old man, Miguel, who only comes to the elder meals, which are just a social time for old people in the community, (he thinks the men in the morning are unsavory characters with foul mouths) who is Cuban and smiles whenever he sees me and helps me practice my Spanish. Stay posted to see if Miguel succeeds in setting me up with his grandson.
I can see how people who have been here for a while get to know some of the men really well and I can't wait to see how many names I've learned by the end of summer.
Occasionally they are loud, lewd or grumpy but, overwhelmingly, they are grateful because they know that Haley House is a unique kind of soup kitchen. We are the only one in town that doesn't have a security guard, and doesn't have a metal detector. Long ago, someone made a leap of faith to trust the men for the sake of building community and it has paid off. Now, when there is an altercation or some kind of situation, the men generally take care of it themselves, in defense of the sanctity of that community, and the staff rarely have to become involved. They value the atmosphere that Haley House provides and will be the first ones to tell someone he's being a jerk or take him outside to walk it off after an argument. Normally, we don't have any problems but, just to make sure, each shift has what we call a "vibe," which is the Haley House title for bouncer. The vibe sits by the door and makes sure those men who are barred don't try to come in, keep an eye and an ear out for brewing problems and, mostly, just chat with the guys.
Even more varied than the people who work at Haley House are the patrons, though they all have one thing in common: they're down on their luck. Most of the guys that come in are homeless, but some also come from the subsidized housing in the area. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference, though. The ones who sleep outside are usually fairly identifiable. There are also those, though, that stay at Pinestreet Inn, the local shelter, every night where they eat, can do their laundry and are required to take a shower so they end up fairly clean, cleanshaven and wearing clean clothes. Pinestreet also kicks them out at 5:30 am, which results in a cluster of grumpy men waiting outside our doors every morning, many of whom work either as day laborers or out at the docks and just want to eat and be on their way. Many of the men we serve are on disability for mental illness of some kind, a few sufferers of PTSD, which is sometimes obvious and sometimes just manifests itself in slightly awkward behavior. A few of them had prior life traumas (death of a loved one, accident of some sort) that caused a break or a change in behavior, and for some of them those incidents happen every day ( getting beat up for being homeless, gang rape in prisons and shelters, etc.) A good number of them are also chronic alcoholics who have alienated themselves from their families and cannot hold down a job, and there are even a few crack or heroin addicts, and I'm learning to tell the signs as I get to know the guys better and better. I'd say a majority of men have spent time in prison which makes employment difficult to find, but has also made a few want to turn their lives around, making some extremely polite and hardworking and some religious zealots. Then there are a few who are simply migrant workers of documentation status unknown to me who have no one in the area except one another and little income or knowledge of their rights or the resources available to them.
Every once in a while these differences in mannerisms and capabilities becomes a problem. Some men don't speak, they just sign what they want; One man asks for a 5 sugars every day while holding up 3 fingers; I'm fairly sure a couple of them can't read; and one man literally has lost control of his bowels in the middle of the dining area a few times before. However, they generally aren't a problem, and are never barred unless they have a chronic problem with malicious behavior. There are so many men, they're bound to cover a spectrum of capabilities and present a variety of challenges.
Over the course of the past few weeks, though, I've gotten to know a few of them. I'm quickly learning names, and when we eat breakfast with them, we end up getting free chess lessons or hearing some amazing stories. There are men from Kenya, Britain, Uganda and all over Latin America, and some that have traveled pretty extensively with the military. I even got to see bullet wound scars from a former Ugandan soldier this morning. Many have PhDs or expertise in crafts like shipbuilding. I'm constantly amazed by how much I'm learning from the men. A few even eagerly put up with my broken Spanish and that of a couple of the other volunteers and interns. I have a favorite little old man, Miguel, who only comes to the elder meals, which are just a social time for old people in the community, (he thinks the men in the morning are unsavory characters with foul mouths) who is Cuban and smiles whenever he sees me and helps me practice my Spanish. Stay posted to see if Miguel succeeds in setting me up with his grandson.
I can see how people who have been here for a while get to know some of the men really well and I can't wait to see how many names I've learned by the end of summer.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The Community
Summer interns are not, in the business sense, part of the Live-In Community at Haley House. We are a temporary, ever-rotating group of people only here for a few months, whereas Community members have all made a more solid commitment to the organization of at least one year. For all intents and purposes, however, interns are, while here, living as a part of their community.
This is my first experience living as a part of an intentional community and I have to say that, after two and half weeks, I'm a fan. It's not just about having roommates or housemates (both of which I do have) or just about working really early morning shifts together (which we do). It's about being able to work together in order to work together. As Dahye said, we don't have to be best friends, but we do have to be able to live harmoniously enough together that we can successfully work together for the good of those we serve. So far, so good.
Let me start out by saying we're all really different from one another. There are going to be 11 of us at the full point this summer and we comprise diversity of every kind here: We range in age from 20 to 54, students and nonstudents, gay, straight and in between, Black, Hispanic, Jewish, Indian, East Asian and straight up WASP, I think we collectively speak 5 languages, we have stories from Sweden to Cambodia, one likes to DJ, one sews, one makes jewelery, a couple garden, a couple cook, one is allergic to wheat, one is a former sprinting champion and some of us love the cats here and some of us do not. We're an interesting bunch to get to know, and that has been my primary pastime since moving in.
We often cook together and eat together, hang our clothes to dry on the deck together, sit and read together, and even drink beer and watch Russian animation shorts together, all in varying numbers. People have their own friends, relatives and significant others outside of Haley House that they attend to, but when we're home, we generally enjoy each others' company and getting to know one another.
Good relations don't come without care, though. There are things that have to be done in order to maintain peace and foster respect. We share chores, and the rotating assignment list is posted on the wall of the kitchen. If you slack, people are going to grumble; I feel like that's Roommates 101. We try to keep the noise down late as Jon lives next to the common room. We try not to wake each other up when we get up at the crack of dawn and our roommates get to sleep in. We try to chip in with getting stuff done even when it's not our job. We ask questions to get to know people without being intrusive. We try to be as genuine as possible, giving praise when it's due and doing our best to express ourselves without excessive whining.
This isn't the glamorous life in the traditional sense, but I feel like it just seems to fit. We all go without some things in the name of working for room and board without wages or a stipend, but the next day it seems like whatever it was I was fretting about not wanting to spend money on doesn't even matter anymore. Those desires are so fleeting for me. We have lots of board games and sporting equipment around the house, we're within walking distance of the Charles River, we get movies from the public library, we have the radio on a lot and we have plenty of computers among us (for when the Internet is working properly) and we have a whole mini-library upstairs of books people have left and donated.
We never really get bored around here, and I think we're all okay living the simple life, getting up with the summer sun because we all really believe in the mission of Haley House and for the most part enjoy our work, which I dare say is more than most people have.
This is my first experience living as a part of an intentional community and I have to say that, after two and half weeks, I'm a fan. It's not just about having roommates or housemates (both of which I do have) or just about working really early morning shifts together (which we do). It's about being able to work together in order to work together. As Dahye said, we don't have to be best friends, but we do have to be able to live harmoniously enough together that we can successfully work together for the good of those we serve. So far, so good.
Let me start out by saying we're all really different from one another. There are going to be 11 of us at the full point this summer and we comprise diversity of every kind here: We range in age from 20 to 54, students and nonstudents, gay, straight and in between, Black, Hispanic, Jewish, Indian, East Asian and straight up WASP, I think we collectively speak 5 languages, we have stories from Sweden to Cambodia, one likes to DJ, one sews, one makes jewelery, a couple garden, a couple cook, one is allergic to wheat, one is a former sprinting champion and some of us love the cats here and some of us do not. We're an interesting bunch to get to know, and that has been my primary pastime since moving in.
We often cook together and eat together, hang our clothes to dry on the deck together, sit and read together, and even drink beer and watch Russian animation shorts together, all in varying numbers. People have their own friends, relatives and significant others outside of Haley House that they attend to, but when we're home, we generally enjoy each others' company and getting to know one another.
Good relations don't come without care, though. There are things that have to be done in order to maintain peace and foster respect. We share chores, and the rotating assignment list is posted on the wall of the kitchen. If you slack, people are going to grumble; I feel like that's Roommates 101. We try to keep the noise down late as Jon lives next to the common room. We try not to wake each other up when we get up at the crack of dawn and our roommates get to sleep in. We try to chip in with getting stuff done even when it's not our job. We ask questions to get to know people without being intrusive. We try to be as genuine as possible, giving praise when it's due and doing our best to express ourselves without excessive whining.
This isn't the glamorous life in the traditional sense, but I feel like it just seems to fit. We all go without some things in the name of working for room and board without wages or a stipend, but the next day it seems like whatever it was I was fretting about not wanting to spend money on doesn't even matter anymore. Those desires are so fleeting for me. We have lots of board games and sporting equipment around the house, we're within walking distance of the Charles River, we get movies from the public library, we have the radio on a lot and we have plenty of computers among us (for when the Internet is working properly) and we have a whole mini-library upstairs of books people have left and donated.
We never really get bored around here, and I think we're all okay living the simple life, getting up with the summer sun because we all really believe in the mission of Haley House and for the most part enjoy our work, which I dare say is more than most people have.
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