The eyes, of that tramp that asked me some charity, looked like cinders, that could glitter the power of hell’s fire; I’ve never believed in these foolishnesses, however, in that day, I hesitated. The child who had just lost his father inquired me about his future, I could not say anything. I was a case worker, at that time, and I toiled with every kind of unfortunate ones, it was worthwhile that I treated them good. I had troubles and absurds happening that were wretches, lawless; there were things that I could not face, I could not toil. Sometimes a thought came up in my mind: I should tell them – all of those people – that their lives were absolutely disgraced, that they were miserable ones, and, if they wanted, I could help them with their suicide. But I could not do that, because state ‘trusted’ me the mission of saving and assisting their lives. State, besides of hypocritical, was inefficient, what everybody already knew. With its wrong politics, that were also tendentious and corrupted, state created these million of derelicts, marginalized, fucked ones, and state still had the stealthy pretension of putting me right there, to save those fucked lives, as if that were possible.
Mr. Florisberto was a “pedigree beggar” – as our kind chronicler Cuenca would say. Mr. Florisberto every day arrived in head office of case work brought, sometimes, by the police, other times by his own feet. He, in an exact reason that I ignore, used to drink liters and liters of any kind of the viler alcoholic beverage that he could find in front of him. He spent all day long asking charities, and when he got to join an enough amount, he rushed to buy a gulp.
There was Lady Carmelisa, a fifty four old nurse, who also worked there. She was a very wise lady. I had the quick impression that she was an angel, who had came to the world just to bring more love and wise for us, human beings, who lived in the Limb of our pretensions and ambitions acerbated. Lady Carmelisa was used to treat Mr. Florisberto with affecting patience and condescension. Lady Carmelisa always sad that some men were to cure, and others were to be cured.
Every fucking day was like an equal, I was, already, getting dead beat, consumed by all that heavy loaded energy that existed in that local. Absolutely were a convergent point of tramps, beggars, dammed, and miserable ones. And that was touching me deeply.
Volnei was a youngster who worked cleaning the floor, the doors, the walls, summarizing, all the building of the institution. He always commented with me about his indignation, and he dreamed with the day that all those fucking troubles would be solved. He was a Social Science student in the Federal University, and like – almost – every social sciences: he was an utopist one, a dreamer, an idealist, someone who had not gave up yet, even seeing all that distopic social reality that we could notice and check by feeling everyday. He was from a humble family, the unique employee that could support his life, while he was studying, was this one.
Frida, the receptionist, was a little boring girls, who had gotten pregnant prematurely, and needed to get a job to supply her child and herself. Her parents renounced her when the fact became known of all. She was a frenetic eighteen girl. She shouted, screamed, and complained with everybody all the time; fought with the case workers, nurses, doctors, and even the miserable ones. I hated her, because when she got me to talk, nobody could take me away, and she spoke a lot, with a renitent voice; she bored and irritated me. Except all those troubles, I still was supposed to suffer all of that. I could not anymore.
In a Monday, I came to the principal and asked my demission. He got perplex, because I was one of his most competent functionaries, the most respected, the most admired by everyone. In fact, I was pleased by all the staff, and the principal objected me saying that my job was very well-paid, besides of begrudged by many students of social work, my job was approved by concourse, and I would not get another better job than that. I said I could not support that anymore, my idealism had been decapitated, cauterized, and I would like to save my life, it had been fired by all those miserable ones that I helped everyday. Principal, finally, acquiesced. And I gone away, failed, frustrated, apathetic, coward. My fight in favor of the world was finished, I had no more forces. I could not deal to the hell anymore.
