“I found these at the market for you!” exclaimed Karl as he appeared in my doorway, speaking Spanish with more than a hint of his native Austrian-German accent. The ‘these’ in question were a pair of jogging bottoms. Karl had become concerned that I was going out running in shorts in the early morning when it was a “cold” 16-18 degrees. While I appreciated his concern, I was in the middle of packing in readiness to leave the room in Casa Bobbio that had been my home for six months and I was looking to give away my winter clothes to the residents in the house, not acquire more. Karl, the resident ‘grandfather’ in Casa Bobbio, who had been living homeless before he arrived, remained stubbornly convinced that his find in the market was just what I needed!
Casa Bobbio in Santiago was the third place I called home during my year of mission with the Columbans. Formerly a house of formation, Casa Bobbio, which sits between the city centre and the Andes mountains, became a casa de acogida (literally, a House of Hospitality) in July 2022, the residents no longer seminarians but refugees and migrants from Venezuela, Mexico, Colombia, Haiti and many other places.
In every place I stayed I encountered communities rich in diversity and courage, but struggling against the odds to build a new life. My first three months were spent learning Spanish and getting to know the community in San Columbano parish in Santiago, in a neighbourhood called El Bosque; a blend of Chileans, Peruvians, Bolivians and more recent arrivals from other parts of Latin America. It was here that the Columban migrant ministry began. The original ‘Casa Bobbio’ (named after the town in Italy where St Columban ended his days) was a converted religious house adjacent to a community chapel, and it is still a home to Venezuelans, including a young family, all struggling to navigate the punitive, complicated and frequently shifting Chilean immigration system.
I spent another three months in the parish of Sagrado Corazon in Alto Hospicio, a rapidly growing, self-identifying, “multi-cultural city” high above the more affluent port of Iquique in the north of Chile, squeezed between the Pacific Ocean and the Atacama desert. Once little more than a crossroads, Alto Hospicio is now a comuna or commune in its own right, surrounded at the edges by informal settlements known as ‘tomas’, created by the steady flow of migrants arriving from the north. Alto’s growth is almost entirely due to migration and they proudly fly the wiphala, the square rainbow flag of indigenous Andean people, alongside the Chilean flag.
In the spring, I moved to Casa Bobbio. The challenges and joys of a house of hospitality becoming my daily existence. Some of the residents were awaiting applications for refugee status, others stayed just a few months while they established themselves in Santiago, or rebuilt their lives after periods of homelessness. I was privileged to walk alongside them and they trusted me with their stories which, while sadly not uncommon, can still shock; the Moroccan man beaten by his family for being gay, the Ecuadorian human rights activist who fled from the authorities for “being a nuisance”.
It could be tense in the house. People with very little, all struggling together, doesn’t naturally lend itself to easy harmony. Ill-chosen words exchanged, thoughtless behaviour and grumbling about communal chores not done properly, or at all, could all threaten to boil over. One time, a resident was playing with Lenox, one of four house dogs, and the barking had another resident, Samuel, hanging out of his window shouting for the dog to be quiet as he had been working all night and was deprived of sleep. However, my overwhelming memories are of a small community trying to live well together.
When the house received donations or a resident managed to find a steady job, I became a beneficiary of their kindness in sharing food and drink they had made, accompanied by stories of their families and recipes from home. There was a conscious effort too to ensure everyone received a share in events celebrated by the community. At the party for Fr. Dan Harding’s 30th year on mission in Chile, a large slice of cake was set aside for Segundo to enjoy when he returned from work.
A few days before Christmas, John joined the community. Originally from Colombia, he’d been living rough in Santiago for some time. He arrived with nothing, and our first encounter was to provide him with a bag of essentials and something to eat. Over the next few weeks I saw him find work, stabilise his life, put on some weight and focus on saving money to return home to his son. One evening, much to John’s annoyance, I saw him taking a plate of food he’d cooked to another resident who had struggled to earn money that week and was reluctant to ask for help. Seeing me in the corridor he whispered, “Don’t tell anyone!”. “John” I replied “I’m going to tell everyone! It’s one of the kindest things I’ve seen in ages.”