L'Arche's heart [story]

[Under construction]

As I begin my first blog post, my nerves run high and I panic about making a good impression on you. I take a deep breath and focus on my notes. I’ve promised you the sky with such an ambitious title, and I’m determined to reach it. But let’s start from the beginning: this is the story of how a small organization has changed and shaped the lives of many different people.

Preface

As Charlie Kirk said once before his assassination, a society is made by the three P rules: people, place, and principles. If you remove one of them, the society begins to shake, but if you take two of them, it starts rapidly collapsing. So, what would happen when you change the three of them? When there was an order, chaos will appear, and from this one a new order will be created. And because "For nothing is hidden that will not be disclosed, nor is anything secret that will not become known and come to light." Luke 8:17, new and impossible things happen. For years I have wondered why L'Arche left such a big impact on my life, and I think that here is the answer. L'Arche demolished those dogmas I had about the world, and changed my perspective on things 180 degrees. This is the first time I had the opportunity of becoming an adult, and take care of the things on life on my own. But in order for me not to forget the learning, the creation, it is important that I oversee the past, because in it there are many interesting facts, stories, successes, and failures that must be remembered in order to create a more perfect world. And, because it is not only my success that must see the light but my failures too, I get scared of the things I write. But this is my life and I may bear it in my own way; whether my acts condemn me or glorify me, I must carry the consequences of my actions, my cross. May the spectacle go on.

Prologue

In elementary school I was a top student; I graduated with honors, one of the top students in my class, but as my high school years went on, my grades declined until I failed my final year. It is not surprising that after finishing high school I decided to take a sabbatical year before going to college or starting work. Where to go—Somewhere I could polish my English. Ireland or Australia? Ireland was closer, so I chose it. My mother, a brave and beautiful woman, aware of my decision, gave me a couple of suggestions about where I could go. Camphill was my choice, so I wrote to all of them. A couple answered, and after visiting one with my mother and being accepted on the condition that I improve my English before going—which I did—I went there¹.

I arrived in Dublin on June 17th, 2019, and from there I took a bus to Gorey. Camphill Duffcarrig was a nearby community, about 6.2 km away, located close to the coast. I planned to walk from Gorey to the community, but a kind gentleman picked me up halfway.

This community, made up of people with disabilities, employees, and volunteers, consisted of several buildings. It included houses for the residents, each named after a different saint; an administrative building; a community center; a shop; a crafts house; a weaving studio; a farm; and even a caravan for the volunteers—who will hereafter be referred to as coworkers. The caravan was comfortably furnished, with a television, lighting, and a refrigerator.

I was assigned to St Kevin’s House. I arrived that evening and introduced myself to my fellow coworkers and the residents. After unpacking my luggage in what would become my room, we all had dinner together.

The house was home to three coworkers and two residents. Two of the coworkers were due to leave soon, while the other, Sophia, was planning to stay a little longer.

As for the residents, one of them was a tough, independent man who enjoyed cycling into town. He seemed to take a liking to me, which was unusual with new coworkers, as it normally took him some time to warm up to them. The other resident was much more dependent and needed assistance from the moment he woke up until he went to bed.

After meeting my house leader, Sarah M., I was given the organization's policies in two large binders and allotted two weeks to read them in full. During that time, I also received the personal training that the community provided to all new recruits. I was also informed that I would receive two hundred euros per month, along with an additional six to eight hundred euros to cover my holiday expenses.

My daily routine was as follows. I would wake up in the morning and have breakfast with the residents before heading to the garden, where I spent most of the morning digging the soil and looking after the greenhouses with Arnaldo.

Once the morning's work was over, I returned to St Kevin's House. Depending on the day, I was sometimes responsible for preparing lunch. The cooking duties were shared among the coworkers throughout the week, and we all ate together with the residents. On one occasion, I burnt the rice, and Sarah M. was horrified to discover that my cooking skills were so poor.

After lunch, we had two hours of free time. I had brought my violin with me, so I spent most of those hours practising. My house leader once joked that if I kept playing such sad music, she was going to cry.

In the evening, I worked at the craft house, known as the Tara Group. Alongside two Filipino coworkers and several residents, I made handicrafts as well as jam, and paintings. Afterwards, we all returned to our respective houses for dinner. At the end of the day, I helped the residents get ready for bed.

Within my first two weeks, I was transferred from the garden to the farm. One of my main tasks there was feeding the pigs. To do that, I first had to distract them by throwing a small amount of food into one corner of their pen. While they rushed over to eat it, I had to run to their feeder and fill it as quickly as possible. Otherwise, they would crowd around me and make it impossible to feed them properly.

I also spent time removing weeds from the fields and gradually learned how to care for the cows. To move them between pastures, we used an electric fence, which had to be dismantled and set up again in a new location. The first time I rewound the electric wire onto its reel, I did it incorrectly, and the farmer was not pleased.

On another occasion, we had to move the cows from one field to another. My job was to stand in the middle of the road so that, as the herd came running towards me, the cows would see me and turn left instead of continuing straight ahead. However, when I saw the size of the herd charging towards me, I could only step aside and let them pass. I was far too afraid of being trampled.

Later, I was supposed to learn how to milk the cows and make cheese. I never looked after the chickens.

One thing I particularly enjoyed about working on the farm was our coffee breaks. Every morning, we stopped for twenty or thirty minutes to have coffee and biscuits together before returning to work.

On Mondays, we gathered at the workshop, where we sang together, shared a short reflection, and updated the other houses on our activities.

I had two days off each week, usually on a rotating schedule.

I spent most of my free time getting to know the other coworkers in the community. My first friends were Pablo, Alex, and Yan Yan. We often walked to the beach together, which was only about a ten-minute walk away. Sometimes Julia, Sophia, and others would join us. On one occasion, we even went for a midnight swim naked. Sophia's boyfriend did the same thing once, although in broad daylight. I still remember Sophia desperately trying to cover him with a towel, completely mortified.

Sophia and her boyfriend once invited me to go fishing with them, but I politely declined.

I also became close friends with a Filipino coworker. We played billiards at The Orphan Girl.

I also met people from the nearby Camphill community, Camphill Ballymoney. It was there that I learned Annie had taken a liking to me. Unfortunately, I did not fell the same way.

I also became familiar with the community's gossip. Julia had broken up with her ex-boyfriend, Rodrigo, while Pablo and Alex were dating—they eventually married, only to divorce later. One of my housemates, a Colombian coworker, was deeply upset that the organization was planning to close the weaving workshop. She could not understand how they could complain that fewer people were actively participating in the community while shutting down one of the few activities that was still thriving.

It was through these social gatherings that I got to visit Gorey. Sometimes we attended farewell parties for coworkers leaving the community; other times, we simply went to the pub for a pint. Local people would often gather there to play traditional Irish music, a custom that I found particularly charming.

I also visited Gorey on my own to explore the town. I was surprised to discover that it had no central square, something I even mentioned to my family. I had lunch there, wandered through the streets, and got to know the place better.

As I mentioned earlier, one of the residents in my house loved cycling into town. Sadly, his bicycle was stolen. Camphill appealed for donations, and people responded by giving us three bicycles. It was a wonderful gesture, as we were then able to use them ourselves to cycle into Gorey.

The volunteers loved to party—at the beach, in town, or at the caravan—and I often joined them. We had a great time together. On one occasion, my Filipino coworker drank far too much and ended up vomiting. Rodrigo stayed with him and looked after him.

I genuinely enjoyed my days, and the weeks seemed to fly by. Unfortunately, so did the two weeks I had been given to read the binders, a task I never completed. By then, I had already been living at Camphill for three weeks.

And then the day came.

I was enjoying one of my days off when Julia, who was about to leave the community, held a farewell party for the coworkers in the caravan. We had fun, drank together, and later went to the beach.

On our way back to our houses, a member of staff spotted one of the coworkers returning home. Surprised to see him out so late, he asked where he had been. The coworker told him about the party.

As the organization prohibited both the consumption and the possession of alcohol anywhere on its premises, an investigation was opened.

I first heard about the incident the day before I was summoned by the organization. During dinner, my housemates were discussing the party and its consequences, and that was when I realized how serious the situation had become.

The following day, I received a formal notification informing me that I was being called to take part in the investigation for breaching the community's rules. It included the date of my disciplinary interview and the phone number of a psychologist whose services were available free of charge if needed.

Julia, who had already been through a previous investigation, told us that we needed to meet. I waited until eight o'clock, when I thought my work for the day was over, and went to meet them, only to be scolded later by my Colombian housemate. It turned out that my shift did not actually end until I had helped the residents get ready for bed. Eight o'clock was only an approximate finishing time.

Once we met, Julia explained the procedure that was about to unfold. She suggested that we tell a partial lie about who had been drinking alcohol and how late we had stayed out in order to protect ourselves. We agreed to her proposal.

After that, I was separated from the house and asked to remain in the administrative building with the other coworkers who had attended the party while we waited for our disciplinary interviews.

During that time, I got to know my coworkers better. Pablo, who was from Valencia, admitted that he had hated being taught Valencian as a child because he considered it a useless language. Alex, who was from Belarus, disliked how homophobic his country was.

Yan Yan was very proud of her ability to cook rice and was once horrified when she failed to cook it properly. We watched a film together in Tagalog, and I found it fascinating how naturally English and even a little Spanish were mixed with the local language. We also ended up commenting on a pornographic film, and I spent part of my free time learning how to paint.

I attended the first disciplinary interview on my own. I cried as I told my story and lied to them. At one point, I even asked what would happen to the organization if so many of us were expelled. I received a cold reply: that was their problem, not mine. It seemed I had not listened carefully enough to Julia, and I almost blew our cover. Fortunately, I managed to recover from the situation before it was too late.

I attended the second disciplinary interview accompanied by my house leader. Someone from the head organization was present to observe the proceedings and produce a written transcript of the interview. I argued that I had not known about the prohibition on alcohol—a lie—and that I had been off duty that day, which was true, unlike the other coworkers. I also pointed out that I had not left the residents unattended, as there were still coworkers in the house, and I apologized for my actions.

While we waited for the final decision, Sophia brought me food on one occasion. I thanked her and asked how things were going in the house. I imagined it must have been difficult, with so many volunteers preparing to leave. She almost burst into tears. I did not know what to say.

Finally, a decision was made: I was expelled from the community and given one week to leave.

The decision hit me like a rock. Not only did I have to leave, but I also had nowhere to go.

Desperate, I immediately began looking for a job.

At first, I visited Gorey's employment office. However, with so little time left, and following Arnaldo's advice, I decided it would be better to contact Dublin Simon Community and L'Arche Cork instead. I travelled to Dublin for an interview with Simon Community, and they seemed to appreciate the fact that I played the violin. I also interviewed with L'Arche Cork, although that interview took place online. They asked me why I wanted to join L'Arche instead of remaining at Camphill. I replied that I wanted to know whether every community for people with disabilities in Ireland was as welcoming as the one I had experienced. I was accepted by both organizations.

I also appealed my expulsion from Camphill. After an online interview, during which my house leader spoke in my support, the organization decided to welcome me back.

I did not know what to do, but in the end I chose to leave Camphill and join L'Arche. After all, they had been the first to accept me after my expulsion. I thanked Dublin Simon Community and Camphill Duffcarrig for their offers and politely declined them.

Only then did I tell my family what had happened. They had been on holiday in Rome while all of this was taking place, and I finally explained the whole situation to them.

Before I left, I asked for a certificate confirming my stay and a letter of recommendation, both of which they kindly provided².

On my last day, Sarah M. drove me into Gorey. She expressed sympathy for my situation, and I thanked her for everything she had done for me before we parted ways. Just like that, one month and one week after arriving in Ireland, I left the organization that had welcomed me with open arms.

Camphill Duffcarrig closed a few years later due its inability to improve the safety and quality of services for the residents, as stated by IQUA³.

For my part, I wrote to the community years later to admit and regret the lies we had told during the investigation⁴. They never replied.

Looking back, I remember my time there as a short holiday. But Camphill was never meant to be a holiday destination, and I paid the price for treating it as one.

Interlude

I had agreed with L'Arche to start my volunteering experience two weeks after my expulsion, but what was I going to do during those two weeks? I decided to go to Dublin. After all, my Filipino friend had offered to let me stay with his family for a week.

I took the bus and went there. We lied to his family about my stay, telling them that I was on holiday. This surprised his mother, as I had brought my entire suitcase for the year, along with my violin. She and her son, who is a trans woman, showed me around, and we went bowling together.

After that, and having thanked them for welcoming me, I left. I had booked a hostel for the following week: Avalon House, on Aungier Street. That was where I went.

References

¹A short history of the community at Duffcarrig

²Certificate of residence and recommendation letter Camphill Duffcarrig

³HIQA publishes two inspection reports on Camphill Community Duffcarrig

⁴Reopen investigation Camphill Community Duffcarrig