First Visit to “Il Ponte” on February 18, 2011
I was allowed to enter the strictly guarded black wooden door and directed to climb two flights of stairs to “Il Ponte,” a shelter for unaccompanied foreign minor males who stay on an emergency and temporary basis. After briefly meeting with two of the directors I entered what seemed to be a recreation room for the young boys, all of them eighteen years and younger. Without any hesitation almost all of the boys stood up to greet Rebecca and I and we all shared our names, hello’s and smiles.
I quickly learned from one of the directors that many of the young men here are not used to women being here, as in their home countries women are seen as inferior beings. The director spoke mostly Italian but it was not hard for me to understand what he said- he spoke of the boy’s struggle and I could simply hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. This man said he felt like a father to the boys and the boys saw him as their own father. It is very hard for him when the boys must go, but it must be done he said. He said he must keep this work separate from his life “at home” because if not it could be “psychologically harming.” After sharing this, I asked questions and he answered by telling me that all of the boys here are or are under the age of eighteen, “entering at seventeen years old is a problem.” I am a person who loves to smile but I could not smile listening of this “problem.” These so called “problems” are not problems and I was sitting in the same building as them, this building I was sitting in was their home. They are boys who are no longer boys because they have been forced to grow up quickly and unfairly to fight injustice in their lives, from all over the world.
As read in Anna Momigliano’s article, “Italy cracks down on its Roma (gypsies),” Prime Minister Sylvio Berlusconi won Parliament’s approval for a law-and-order bill targeting illegal immigrants, for which his government blames for much of Italy’s crime. I had just met these boys for only an hour or so, but I could tell you these boys were not criminals. In fact, as I stood watching in the small kitchen as I was instructed to do so, I met these young men and learned from them. Each one of them seemed to have a responsibility, and they did not carry out their responsibility with languish but rather a spirit of thanksgiving in being able to serve and help the community that serves and helps them. The director in the kitchen was warming up a meal cooked by a chef for the young men. I watched as he warmed the meals and then caringly cooked a simple separate meal for one of the boys who suffers from hepatitis. I overheard one of the boys, who was dressed like any other Italian or American teenager walking the streets, state that he was extremely tired. He was not like any other Italian or American student walking the streets.
Cahns article “A History of persecution: End Europe’s ugly racism toward Roma” states “unemployment among Roma throughout Central and Eastern Europe outpaces unemployment among the population at large by five times. Total joblessness is reported in some areas.” All boys arriving into the first “Il Ponte” meaning a Point of welcome, must be under the age of eighteen years and if they over eighteen years they are then sent to another “Il Ponte.” As an American student of twenty years of age, I have first handedly witnessed how many teenagers in America do not work full time or even part time. At this “adolescent” time in their lives they are fully independent on his or her parents. Here in this home this is definitely not the case. Most of the young men were away working if they had not gone to school. These boys, even the ones who did not work, worked extremely hard in trying to learn the Italian language and other crafts of skill. Most of them travel up to three years working twenty two hours a day to get to Italy and then are caught by the police to live a life like this, a life of what I saw. But this is not the life they live for, although they are living this life at the moment. One young boy from Bangladesh spoke five languages, the other sang with me the Italian and the English alphabet. The other boys set the table while one other boy helped warm and prepare meal. These boys are working men, and they are not only working to exist, they are working to live.
Rebecca and I were invited to share a meal with them and I grew to be a little nervous, as I didn’t know what I would say. In the kitchen I was conversing with the boys about places they liked and what it was like back home- in Bangladesh, Pakistan and Afghanistan. I enjoyed hearing the boys communicate in Bangla, although I understood nothing. At the “family table” conversations are usually shared about one’s day, however, in this home meals are shared in silence as many of the boys do not speak the same language and if one language is spoken it may cause turbulence amongst those who do not speak the language. At times I grew scared to look up from my plate of chicken, rice and vegetables- I wasn’t even hungry. I had no idea why I was scared. I began to pray and asked God to bless all these young men- and then I questioned my prayer and myself. Who am I to ask God to bless them? I am the one who is blessed; do I think I am better than them? I am not. I continued to pray anyways. This was still a family time, just a family time in silence. These boys are a community, a family- and they are all human beings with the same humanity as you and I- and maybe even more at times because they have to work harder and be more just to be seen as human.
“They are creating a new climate of intolerance in Europe with movements in some countries now openly hostile to ethnic minorities and migrants,” says Benjamin Ward, the Europe deputy director for Human Rights Watch in London (Faiola, “Italy’s crackdown on Gypsies reflects rising anti-immigrant tide in Europe). I did not see this new climate of intolerance, but rather a climate of hope for these young men in this home, in “Il Ponte,” truly a place of welcoming
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