LISBON
— In Arroios, a
neighborhood of Lisbon, stands a set of 12 metal lockers. Surrounded by old
trees and newly planted bushes, the lockers represent a pilot project designed
by Portuguese architect Duarte Paiva as a way to safeguard the possessions of
the homeless.
The shining yellow cabinets also
serve as a postal address: Letters can be inserted through an outer slot.
Inside, each has three shelves and a place to hang clothes.
Among the beneficiaries is Jorge
Toledo. He was the first to receive a key to a locker on Oct. 17, 2013,
designated by the United Nations as the International Day for the Eradication
of Poverty. Until recently in Locker No. 1 he had put only his "main
treasures": photos of his two daughters and a document proving that he is
a certified electrician. Now he also stores some clothes, a backpack with other
garments, a pair of sneakers, and a tool bag.
Like Mr. Toledo, other less
fortunate people use the lockers to store their belongings, which they
previously dragged up and down the streets of Lisbon – "the city of seven
hills" – in boxes, bags, or supermarket shopping carts.
Now, as winter sets in, they feel
protected against robberies and rain.
"The idea is to restore the
sense of responsibility of the homeless, reinforce their self-esteem, and
reduce the feeling of exclusion and loneliness," explains Mr. Paiva, who
in 2007 founded the Associação Conversa Amiga (ACA, or Friendly Talk Association).
The €11,635 ($15,800) locker
project was funded by the Lisbon municipal government. Paiva would like to
start similar locker projects all over Portugal and in other European cities – and even
bring his idea to America.
In order to obtain and keep using
a locker a homeless person has to obey several rules, which include maintaining
regular contact with the ACA street team, and promising to help keep the area
around the lockers clean and not use them to store illicit substances.
In Arroios, the lockers were
placed close to a church and police station. It was on the stairs of St. George
Church that Toledo used to sleep before being offered shelter in an
old van. Sliding open a door of the van's cargo area, he proudly shows his
mattress with its crumpled sheets.
Toledo was born in Ilha Terceira,
one of the nine islands of the Azores archipelago, an autonomous region of Portugal. His late
father, of whom he speaks with visible pride ("Thanks to him, I finished
secondary school"), was an aircraft maintenance employee at a US air base there.
Toledo's parents eventually
rented their house to a US military officer and moved with their four children
(two boys and two girls) to the Azores city of Angra do Heroísmo.
Coincidentally, Paiva was born there in 1981.
But Paiva and Toledo never met in
the Azores. They first encountered each other in Lisbon in 2010. One year
later, the architect was awarded a community prize from Do Something
(Portugal), a US organization supporting the charitable projects of younger
adults.
Paiva had started volunteering at
age 14. His first effort, with the cooperation of firefighters, was "to
save a cat trapped on the top of a telephone pole," he says. Instead of
being grateful, the animal acted with fury toward his benefactor. That taught
Paiva an early lesson.
"This also happens with
homeless people – not all of them are docile," he says. "At daytime,
they are frequently neglected; at night, when helpers come, they can be
aggressive just to reassert their dignity.
"We are not taking care of a
homogenous population. There are so many different cases that it is wrong to
address them" as though they are all alike, he says.
The ACA has a yearly budget of
around €20,000 ($27,000) and about 70 regular volunteers. During 2012 it
managed to assist more than 6,100 people – not all of them homeless.
On World Diabetes Day (Nov. 14) a
group of ACA volunteers, among them a doctor and a nurse, taught a group of men
and women at a senior center the best way to care for their feet. The local
Roman Catholic Church, which runs the senior center, is one of 17 ACA partners.
Elsewhere, in a poor neighborhood
two young women from ACA were helping a group of children do their homework.
Their parents, most of them destitute, pay only a small fee.
Paiva's dedication to the
homeless is related to his childhood in the Azores.
"I used to play by inventing
and creating things," he says. "My family is not rich, and I had to
struggle to have what I wanted, whether it was a toy or a university
degree."
When he was 9 years old, he
offered bread to an impoverished neighbor, who rejected the gift. Paiva
wondered why.
The answer arrived in 2005. It
was Christmas Eve. He was delivering food and clothes to the homeless and was
surprised when they told him what they needed most: someone to listen to them.
They needed a friend.
"My thoughts were, 'I do not
have the means to offer a house to everyone, but I can share a portion of my
time,' " Paiva says. "Then, I created an Internet page, Um
sem-abrigo; Um amigo ["One homeless; One friend"]. Since the
beginning our purpose remains the same: to diminish the isolation and
marginalization of vulnerable individuals and groups."
He started by offering hot tea to
homeless people, still a trademark of ACA volunteers. Every fortnight a
different person in each ACA team prepares a large container of hot tea and
serves it in paper cups.
One of the six main locations
served by ACA is Gare do Oriente. At least 30 homeless people, mostly men,
sleep on the cold stone benches of this central railway station, which connects
the north and south of Portugal.
All of them are treated like
relatives by the ACA helpers, who are easily identified by their green vests.
On a Saturday night, Hugo
Martins, a young doctor who has donated backpacks with simple medical supplies
for the homeless, gives two octogenarians medical advice. One of them, a
widower, owns a house but moved to the station to sleep after the love of his
life died five years ago.
The ACA focuses on basic needs,
such as offering medical treatment free of charge, obtaining documents, or
arranging for a state pension. It does not distribute soup or blankets since
many other groups do that.
Working with the homeless is a
remarkable personal experience, Dr. Martins says. "I no longer deal solely
with diseases but with human beings, who make a better person out of me,"
he says.
One man always waiting for the
ACA volunteers, Armando Barbosa, is unemployed. But thanks to ACA he is now
receiving a monthly social services allowance and learning English, and he
expects to take the test to become a truck or bus driver. He still goes to the
Gare do Oriente train station, where he slept for three months, but now it is
only to talk.
Toledo, who received Locker No.
1, says he's never felt "so happy." After two failed marriages and
the loss of his father and of two friends, he arrived in Lisbon in 2009,
dependent on drugs and expecting to die. "I brought €22,000 [$30,000] and
I spent all of it in less than six months on cocaine and parties," he
recalls.
Now, sitting in a coffee shop and
bakery where he helps out doing a bit of everything in exchange for meals,
Toledo smiles at Paiva. He concedes that ACA is "reintegrating him into
society." He is saving his money for a journey across North Africa.
Paiva, his friend, is pleased.
"If I cannot change the
whole world overnight, I am sure that I can change the street where I
live," he says. "Probably, I will never [build] big buildings. But if
someone leaves me on an isolated island I will be able to erect a city with
[only] a few sticks and ropes."
• For more information, visit http://acamiga.wix.com/aca-pt orhttps://www.facebook.com/AssociacaoConversaAmiga (both sites are in
Portuguese).
