The Irony of Arturo
The spot in the corner at the entrance of the church, shielded by a white cardboard box, is Arturo. I don’t know his last name, nor his age. He sleeps in front of the church named after St. Francis every night, which is kind of ironic. That the church doesn't help is one thing, the other is that St. Francis renounced all his riches to live and preach a life of poverty. Arturo barely ever asks for more, just when he's really cold he asks for a coffee, and when he's really hungry for a soft bun.
A few months ago, I had just gotten back a warm blanket that I had borrowed to my daughter’s mother while she was around for a week. It was sitting on a chair, right where I had left it to later stow away, to be used the next time there was need.
I’ve had a couple of beers that day, which always makes me a little warmer, bringing out my truer self. After being burned many times, I turned to analyzing things more before following my emotions. I saw Arturo out there, looked at the blanket, did a little of back and forth and then brought it to him. He thanked me, and brought it back the next day.
How it's going
This game has been going on for a while. Arturo is quite considerate with me, always letting me know when he goes out of town so I wouldn’t worry. He said he doesn’t use the blanket when it’s raining, so it wouldn’t get wet (I told him not to worry, that I can dry it). He always thanks me, says good evening, and have a good night. It’s hard to understand him, he’s missing most of his teeth.
He now throws the blanket over the fence in the early morning (he leaves around 5.30am), so I don’t have to get up and he doesn’t have to wait. He found a place around the corner where he can sleep when it’s raining. And it’s raining season now, everything is damp and foggy. Like Germany in November (well, with 10°C more on the thermometer). Bad time to be in Germany.
Why am I scared to help?
But we’re preparing a little surprise for him – in a little leap of faith, overcoming suspicion and rationalization, we (me and the girls that run the restaurant below my apartment) prepared a space under the roof for him, and another friend got us an isolation mattress. It’s on the front patio, hidden away a little, dry and with more wind protection. I hope that it will work out for all of us.
I usually refrain from helping people directly. I work with foundations, have other people choose who to help, have them deal with it. Doing it myself exposes me. With Arturo, I try not to have any expectations, taking into any possibility, any negative outcome. Until now, he always surprised me positively.
When I came to Ecuador, I was so different. I was able to be empathetic in Germany, but here – there’s too much brutality, too much suffering. I couldn’t handle it. It broke me, and I built myself back up with a shield of rationality to protect me at least a little bit. I sometimes wonder if I was really able to change that, or if I just pushed it into the subconscious.