Welcome to Casa Damasco

Welcome to Casa Damasco
Several years ago, at least more than ten, two elderly women began to bring food and clothing to the homeless that were staying in city parks or plazas. From this practice there evolved an opportunity for these two compassionate souls to take advantage of an offered, rent free, house.

This house became their point for care, to the ones that could come or to those that needed to be carried there. These two, now unknown by name, charitable souls chose `` HOGAR DAMASCO `` to name their refuge for those in need of care. Just as the blinded St. Paul found refuge in the biblical town DAMASCAS, the helpless in Mazatlan now had their HOGAR (Casa) DAMASCAS (Damasco) refuge. These words translate to:
Hogar=home & Casa=house, Damasco=refuge, thus the House or Home of Refuge, and it truly has been for these many years for hundreds of hapless men and women, in Mazatlan.

The tradition continues, but the founders have been gone for a number of uncounted years, and out of memory, except by deed. To this point, the Casa Damasco story has been revealed from third person recollection, but from here on, it will be of my first hand experience that will be told and recounted. My wife, Martha, and I first became aware of Casa Damasco nearly eleven years ago, while we were shopping at Plaza Ley.

In the plaza’s parking lot was a crudely nailed together collection box, where items such as clothes and staple food stuffs could be deposited. Also there was the name HOGAR DAMASCO roughly painted along with the address and phone number. Curiously enough, we learned that address was just a block off the street, which we took to our warehouse each day. One day Martha collected some of the things donate-able and we went to locate the place and check it out.

I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. I was appalled at the stench of urine and feces. There was naked and half naked, old men laying on mats or sitting on chairs and in wheel-chairs, those that were ambulatory and clothed showed signs of addiction and/or dementia, standing or shuffling about in their stupors. The humidity of summer-air laden with the filth of human odors and the lack of fans to circulate it, made breathing nearly impossible. I was greeted by someone in charge, whom I remember only as Enrique; he impressed me with his soberness, concern and sincerity.

Since the first donated house became Casa Damasco and abandoned for whatever reason, they, the inmates captured within this dilemma of need, have perpetuated themselves from one rented or donated dwelling to another, and usually located in the poorest, rundown part of town. It was at this time that I was so taken by their plight, misery and need of help, that was beyond their ability to provide for themselves, that Martha and I
began to do as we could. They lacked the basic necessities of toilet paper,soap, disinfectant, in the form of purex, etc., tooth paste and shampoo.

Imagine fifteen to as high as twenty-seven persons existing in a two bed-room house with one bathroom, a small kitchen, living room and back patio as the laundry. The garage area was converted to accommodate the sleeping pads for twelve to fifteen persons and the area giving way as a sitting room in the daytime. Now, imagine this misery and squalor being met without even one trained or semi-professional care giver.Enrique acted as the director, and he himself rose up from the depths of drink and drugs to do so.

This, to me, was the most notable of significance about Casa Damasco. Casa Damasco is not a government sponsored nor supported project. It exists solely of its own volition, i.e., those that use its services make it work, to serve themselves and in the care of others. Those that can, do care for their own personal hygiene, bathing, toileting, dressing and so on. The aged, infirm, demented or handicapped are looked after and fed by the goodwill from those that can help. Bathing is done by stripping and being hosed down, with cold water, while standing or sitting in a chair or wheel-chair. Toileting, is too often done wherever the urge occurs, by the most severely impaired or aged. Feeding is a long and laborious process, that seems to be never ending. Cooking food on the small apartment size stove, using inadequate utensils is challenging, and would be for even a seasoned chef. Then there’s portioning, serving and care for special diets and palates that needs to be observed, and again after this, there’s cleanup. Perhaps, the best that can be said of this is that, it’s v ery sobering, as it should be to the drinker and the doper that has arrived to the bottom of the heap and attempts to scratch their way up and out. Fortunately, for Casa Damasco, there are some that scratch their way up, but not out. Such is the case for the present director, Juan.

I’ve known Juan for about five years. We met shortly after he arrived for his sobering experience. Since I first started helping Casa Damasco, every Saturday I would deliver a six-gallon pot of chili, minestrone, navy bean soup, chicken-rice soup, Marconi-cheese-wiener-jalapeño (their favorite) along with other foods, in smaller portions, intended for those capable of enjoying the ``Gringo `` touch. This one Saturday, I had the food ready for loading on my pickup, all I had to yet do was put my shoes on. My shoes are usually taken off and put on, while I’m setting in my big recliner. The TV was on as I reached down for a shoe, I didn’t pay close attention and put the shoe on the appropriate foot. I was watching the news, and reached for another shoe and slipped it on, and away out the door I went with the pot. A couple miles later I was at Domasco’s. While the food was being transferred to their pot, I stood in the middle of the room, with my arms folded across my chest. A fellow comes face to face with me and declares, `` nice shoes! `` I thought, `` Damn, this guy’s hittin’ on my shoes, an I’m damn sure not givin’um up, either.`` Smiling, I looked him in the eye, deciding that I was going to look down at my shoes and tell him, ``Yes, they are nice, and I’m going to keep’um too. I looked down and GEES! On my left foot was a HUSHPUPPY and on the right was my TENNY! As long as I live, I’ll never forget that joke Juan had on me, and away I went to my office still laughing and looking, perhaps, as though I’d just escaped from Casa Damasco.

I can’t fathom what it really takes to do as Juan and others are doing in the service of caring for the incapable. Whatever it is, it ain’t in me. I once asked Juan if he was paid a salary by anyone, and he answered, `no.` `` Then, where do you get the money? `` I asked. `` I solicit from some of the companies, like beer, bread and etc., `` he answered. `` But you’re sober an’ clean now, so why are you still here? `` He replied, `` because they did it for me, and now they need me to do it for them.`` I had tears in my eyes, as he spoke those words to me.

Juan has a wonderfully good partner, now, helping him care for others. About two years ago, Conchita came into his life and has joined him in administering Casa Damasco. She’s a delightful mother, of three grown daughters and a son. She’s hardworking, compassionate and dedicated. To keep Casa Damasco going these two `` Givers `` need help. Imagine if you can, trying to care in the survival of others with little or no money, nor
resources beyond donations. Each day Juan visits bakeries for their un-saleable goods, some restaurants for their leftovers, a couple of stores and `` mercados`` for culled fruits and vegees or whatever, using an old `94 pickup I donated, after the much older one, that was being used, died.

Through the years Martha, I and others have given, had repaired and/or made refrigerators, washing machines, fans, sleeping mats, wheelchairs, radios, TVs, crutches, tools for maintenance, etc..Juan, also, is responsible for taking the sick to and from the hospital or calling the coroner, when someone has slipped beyond help, and this occurs at least once or twice a month. Usually, except for a first name, they’re unknown and gone, being replaced by someone, just waiting to take their place . . . . for the old and infirm it’s just a matter of time.

Obviously, this accounting of Casa Damasco is a plea for help. Money is of the main concern, to buy what’s needed and maintain what’s at hand. Of course, when you’re visiting Mazatlan help with the cooking, cleaning and caring could always be used and appreciated, the current address will be listed on our website.

If you donate money, time or whatever the first time. . . you will never be contacted again, nor be listed in any way . . . just one time, that’s it!

Of course, Casa Damasco’s progress will be updated periodically, on our website, as will instructions for subsequent donations, should you choose to do so.

To make a donation use PAYPAL or mail a check. Make the check payable to Earl Rowley. Endorse the check on the back with the notation: For deposit only to acct. # 2552399970. Mail the check to: Wells Fargo ---- 6270 N. Oracle Road ---- Tucson, Az., 85705