Kenya. When he was three, his cherished grandmother died after she was bitten by a rabid dog. His drunken stepfather beat him. His best friend died at eight of malaria. He joined a street gang, sniffed glue and petrol, committed crimes, and was nearly killed several times. He was rescued by a Catholic priest who sexually abused him. Yet, he is now one of the most joyful people I know.
I once asked him how he could have turned out so joyful amid the struggles. Well, he replied, when she could, his mother poured unconditional love into him. Kennedy has also poured unconditional love onto others. He founded SHOFCO (Shining Hope for Communities), an organization that combats urban poverty and provides a school for girls, in the Nairobi slum of Kibera. “SHOFCO saved my life,” he told me, “and helped me remain positive even when the worst happened. It made me feel not like a passive victim, but like I had agency and power to change what was happening in my community. I think starting SHOFCO also gave me a sense of the power of ‘ubuntu,’ feeling connected to universal humanity.” In the cruelty of slum life, there is still brightness shining forth.
These people are somewheres, not anywheres, localists not cosmopolitans. They are attached to a particular place, a spot of ground. Sarah Hemminger founded a mentoring program in Baltimore. There is a pendant depicting a map of the city of Baltimore on the necklace she wears to work every day, because that is where her devotion lies. Phil Good of Youngstown, Ohio, began his career by standing in the town square and holding up a sign that read DEFEND YOUNGSTOWN, and is spending his life helping that town recover from deindustrialization. An educator in Houston told us, “When I came back to Houston I made a commitment to this place that I knew growing up but which I got disconnected from because of globalization.”
They tend to be hedgehogs, not foxes. In the famous formulation, the fox knows many things and can see the world with an opposable mind, from many points of view. But the hedgehog knows one thing, has one big idea around which his or her life revolves. This is the mentality that committed community weavers tend to have.
They assume responsibility. Somebody in their background planted an ideal of what a responsible life looks like, of what you are supposed to do. Some people walk down the street and see passing forms. But these community builders see persons and their needs. Responding comes naturally to them. These people wouldn’t recognize themselves if they didn’t act in this way. As a woman who works with battered women in D.C. told us, “I do the work because I don’t consider it work. I do it because my mother and grandmother have taught me it is a responsibility to respond.” They do their work in the matter-of-fact way other people do the dishes. There are dishes in the sink so of course they have to be done. “What I do is as simple and common as the laughter of a child,” Mother Teresa once said.
They often use the phrase “radical hospitality” to describe their philosophy of life, because their goal is that nobody should ever be shut out from their welcome. As one young man who works at a youth center in Washington told us, “Once you realize that these are lives, you must risk life and limb for a life. You can’t turn from a life.”
And so they get gripped. Like Kathy and David, they rarely went out looking for the people they serve and the problem they spend their lives addressing. These things sort of just came into their path. “I didn’t choose this job. It chose me,” says Franklin Peralta, who works at the Latin American Youth Center, echoing a refrain we heard constantly.
It is a paradox that when people are finding themselves they often have a sensation that they are letting go and surrendering themselves. You meet a person in need. At first you just commit to help them a little. An hour a week. It’s no big deal. But then you get to know and care about the person, and the hooks of commitment are set. Now you’ll do what needs to be done. At this point you just let go of the wheel. You stop asking, What do I want? and start asking, What is life asking of me? You respond.