Lean on me -- another cold evening at the Baobab refugee center

Hello. Wilson.
Rome was chilly last night. It only snows lightly here in the winter, but it still gets cold, and several UW students returned to the Baobab refugee center to cook dinner for the 66 residents who remain there following the police raids last week.

Before I go any farther, I should say that there's a lot to see here, so feel free to jump over the text and photos and go straight to the video at the end of this dispatch. It's short and a little choppy, but I think you'll like it. It's a message that may resonate with the members of Team Wilson -- you readers and donors. 

Having said that, here's the latest:

The day began with me and Ann Anagnost dragging our roller airline carry-on luggage to the Mercato di Campagna Amica to purchase provisions for the minestrone soup which would be part of the meal. This is kind of a miracle market. It opened a few years ago in an old Jewish fish market, and has contributed to a renaissance for local farmers.

A thriving straight-from-the-farm market in Rome.

Romans are beginning to flock there for straight-from-the-farm produce, meats, wines, olive oil and other locally-produced products. This has not only kept some farmers in business --it also has spawned a renewed interest in young people about becoming farmers.

For myself, it was a chance to push my way through the throng to purchase two-year-old pecorino cheese for 22 euros per kilo, about $10 a pound, which is competitive with six-month old Spanish Manchego at Costco. And I bought it from the producer--who cut up the wheel and shrink-wrapped the pieces. There was also fresh bottled olive oil, shown in the photo below with the cheese. This is nothing you keep around the house, and you don't cook with it. You drizzle it on your salad and see what olive oil tastes like when it's fresh.

Two-year aged pecorino cheese shrink-wrapped for travel and fresh olive oil samplers.

The reason this sampling olive oil is green is because it is very young. It does not sit in a warehouse. It comes straight from the farm.

This farmer is cutting meat from the hogs he personally raised. He knows what they ate, how they lived, and how they were butchered.

Those Pink Lady apples may have been created by an Australian, but they were grown in Italy, by the man leaning on the counter, who wears sterile gloves to hand them to the customers, who cannot handle the fruit themselves.

 That afternoon, I packed 10 One World Futbols into an REI duffel bag and the group of us headed toward the bus. We knew something was up, because a helicopter was hovering overhead. Vice President Biden had already left town, so it wasn't until the next day that we learned that a man had evaded security and scaled the Coliseum to protest the banning of the actors dressed as Praetorian guards who stood with tourists for photographs. These new security measures were throwing working men such as himself out of work, he shouted, as emergency crews stood below with a inflatable cushion in case he jumped.

Tightened security was having impacts on refugees as well, and on us. When we arrived at Baobab, a number of young men were kicking soccer balls around, including a few balls we had left behind on a couple previous visits. They were very good, and I shot a video of their antics. But we decided not to publish the video, because Ann raised the question of safety for refugees. With facial recognition software and sophisticated search engines, were these people safe even at the refugee center?

You can't just simply ask the refugees if it's OK with them. Last night we learned that North Africans who had time to flee last week's police raids stayed at the center because they felt there was no danger to them. We learned that nothing had been heard since of the two dozen who were carted away; the fear is that they were returned to their home countries--the very place they were fleeing.

With that in mind, in the photo below, I blacked out the face of one man who was engaged with another in bouncing a  ball back and forth from their foreheads with impressive control. Then I flattened the image so that it blacked out layer couldn't be removed through some digital wizardry. And then, for good measure, I converted it to a black and white image. This may be the new reality for people who believe they have sanctuary--and for those who wish to help them.

Refugees demonstrate their soccer proficiency by volleying back and forth with head shots.

Baobab practices its own security. Refugees are escorted into the clothing pantry to make sure it stays organized, and the balls got deposited in a separate room, where they can be doled out as needed So far, 22 balls have reached Baobab and one was left with the Joel Nafuma Refugee Center to prime the pump for future distribution. Gradually I'm learning about other possible outlets.

Bored as refugees, but safe, several One World Futbols sit around, awaiting their destination, in a storage room at Baobab.

 In Baobab's kitchen, the UW students prepared dinner. The menu included a minestrone soup and a pasta dish with tuna. The ingredients were carefully selected to meet the dietary needs of Muslims, something we hadn't been fully cognizant of the first time we cooked for them -- this is a learning process for everyone.

When your pasta with a tuna puttanesca sauce fills a pot this big, it takes two hands for Courtney to stir it.

Now, normally you think of a kitchen as a place where there's a lot of heat, right? Not this place. Check out the photo below. People are wearing coats. The kitchen was not as cold as the alley, but it was chilly, even with the boiling kettles of soup.

Baobab's kitchen was chilly, and the help wore wraps to stay warm.

Huge bubbling kettles of minestrone soup, gastronomically correct for any Muslims at the center, simmer.

There's more to Baobab than the kitchen -- a lot more. The place is somewhat cavernous. With my GoPro running, I took a walk and this is some of what I saw:

...some sort of entertainment center, which is dark most of the time. There a stage there and some sort of sound system.

Turn a couple corners and you find a long hallway that reveals the large size of the center.

Shorter side hallways lead to bedrooms.

Bedrooms are austere, and cold. But they offer shelter.

 While the food was being cooked, cars were driving up to Baobab's door, and people were coming in with clothing to donate. The voluntary nature of this center made it difficult to figure out who to direct these folks to, until the appearance of a diminutive sprite from New York City, who was flattered when, observing her energy level, I said she reminded me of Puck, a figure in Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. It was a wonderful relief to meet Nujrit Yael,   who is multilingual, has lived in Italy several years, and knew her way around Baobab. Nurit kept appearing, disappearing and then reappearing right when it was handy. That's her in the photo below, with glasses, in front of  Meraf and Michelle, two of the UW students.

Nurit Yael, a New York native who has lived in Italy for several years, was a big help last night for her multi-lingual abilities and her knowledge of Baobab procedures. It's my hope that she will become another link for setting up distribution points in Rome that get One World Futbols to refugees.

Time to serve the food up. Many of the refugees ate at the tables on the left, below:

By the time the refugees were fed, we were dragging tail, and except for a few scraps we hadn't had dinner, so we headed back to our apartments. Afterward I slipped out for my Gelato fix, and who should greet me but an old friend, lounging like a lady of the night on the folding door of a shop closed for the night. The Italians obviously understand  how to cater to American appetites:

Love,
Robert

And now for a little entertainment:

Turn up the sound! I told you to expect a video. While the students cooked dinner for the refugees someone played a familiar tune with her iPhone. You're welcome to click on the photo below and sing along.