On the outskirts of Ciampino, in a quiet area lined with low houses and green spaces, a different spirit has taken root in recent years. There stands a beautiful white house with a sloping roof, surrounded by a lawn dotted with flowers, a chicken coop, and a vegetable garden scattered with soccer balls, bicycles, and a slide. A majolica tile above the entrance reads "Il Chicco." Inside, you are immediately struck by an atmosphere of welcome, simplicity, and calm. There is the joy and bustling energy typical of a household full of children: baskets of toys, picture books, enlarged family photographs on the walls. A well-equipped music corner holds a plastic saxophone and a tiny guitar. Around a fireplace that warms the space even more, comfortable seats are arranged for visitors.
Since 1982, this house has sheltered a particular family: five children are the center of this home—all with serious physical, psychological, and behavioral difficulties that had led to their abandonment in an orphanage. Now they live here contentedly with six permanent caregivers, three more (including one external) who work in the newer "workshop," the Nido, and many friends besides, including neighbors. Friends are invited to share moments of celebration—how many birthdays!—and prayer (monthly gatherings to explore a chosen theme), to mark the seasons (how beautiful the Christmas and Easter vigils spent together!), or simply to exchange ideas, offer friendship, and work. There is indeed plenty of work: cleaning the house, tending the garden (the grass grows so fast!), working the vegetable patch, caring for chickens and doves, doing laundry (two washing machines struggle to keep pace with the endless piles), not to mention the iron that knows only rare moments of rest. Like a real family—only much larger! But the heart of the house is the children themselves.
Read also: Il Chicco, a Home for Fabio and Maria
Fabio and Maria were seven and four years old when they gave rise to Il Chicco, along with two caregivers, with the intention of gradually forming a small community where mutual welcome could be a path of growth for each person. A small "field" where each has planted something. And so Il Chicco soon became the first community in Italy of Jean Vanier's Arche (which now includes some eighty communities with adults and children with mental handicaps across five continents).
When Fabio arrived, he was a child who, beyond his physical problems, suffered chiefly from behavioral disturbances that led him to isolate himself in repetitive, stereotyped games that prevented him from relating to others or engaging with his surroundings. He did not speak, and he expressed his frustration with serious tantrums whenever someone tried to pull him away from his refuge-games. Now, at almost fourteen, he is becoming a young man. Gradually he has opened up, gained confidence in himself, and learned to participate and help with the life of the house. He has become very attentive to others, especially the weaker ones. He has learned to express himself—partly through words, partly through other means—so clearly that there is no pretending not to understand when he insists on some tantrum. His passion is animals, and the chicken coop is now his responsibility (though the chickens took some time to teach him proper manners!). In the evenings he helps rinse dishes—and not just those! It is beautiful to see his joy when he greets a friend and welcomes them home, showing that he is now a more peaceful and open young man, ready to grow.
Maria, too, is growing, and she no longer shuns companionship. At first she rejected any closeness with loud cries—often at night (sleep was rare in that period!). She seemed completely absent, locked in her own mysterious and impenetrable world. Now she can be gentle, smiling when her friends visit. She is learning that relationship is possible and is better able to navigate the difficult moments of anguish she still experiences, which she expresses through cries and sometimes aggression.
Maria has also found her role: she helps clear the table, hoping perhaps for an extra slice of cake. Gradually she is gaining trust in those near her and sometimes allows us, on tiptoe, to enter her mysterious world and her wordless language. In the years that followed, three more children arrived. Paolo, not yet eight, has Down syndrome and won his way into everyone's hearts with his charm. He could not stand still for a moment and quickly proved to be a true champion of—flinging soup at the walls!
But little by little he showed us he could do much better things, as his anxiety and restlessness diminished. He can play with others, radiates enthusiasm, and is capable of real tenderness. With his little guitar and plastic saxophone he gathers all his friends around him and reveals himself as a born comedian, staging little skits. He spreads joy and smiles (along with some heavy breathing in those trying to keep his pace) and happily makes amends for the occasional broken glass in the work he is learning to do: helping set the table.
Those who did not know the children when they first arrived at Il Chicco cannot imagine how far they have come.
Lucia, so small and fragile, will soon turn eight. Struck by serious physical and mental difficulties that kept her lying on her back all day with enormous difficulty eating and being changed, she has gradually "awakened" to life. She discovered how beautiful it was to look at the world from a sitting position (which also reduced her respiratory difficulties) and became aware of everything around her that drew her attention. Then she began to move, to stand at times—incredibly, to everyone's amazement. Her insistence in "asking," her desire to grow, showed Il Chicco the way forward: the creation of a small "workshop" where, with the help of medical staff and caregivers (both internal and external), she could undergo exercises suited to her needs. Thus was born the Nido, another white prefabricated house right next to Il Chicco. Il Chicco is the "place of life" for everyone, and the Nido is the "place of work"—we might call it a "laboratory of awakening"—where severely handicapped children undertake activities designed to develop their potential and encourage progress. So that other children like Lucia could benefit from this work, Armando, a six-year-old boy with even greater difficulties than Lucia's, was welcomed this year. His large eyes and his smile encourage us to trust in him and to begin the journey. Indeed, there is more: from this year onward the Nido will open to outside children as well, who can come during the day to do their exercises and activities with trained professionals. Those who knew the children when they arrived, seeing them now, can perhaps imagine how demanding and long the journey at Il Chicco has been: the new family harmony, the affection, and also personalized educational and therapeutic plans have awakened in these children unimaginable capacities, rekindling in them a joy of living, peace, trust, and continuous growth.These are the fruits this seed is bearing as it grows in simplicity and humility. But there is more. In the communities of the Arche, it becomes hard to tell who is the "caregiver" and who is "cared for." While the severely handicapped children welcomed here need help with everything, the caregivers in this daily living touch values that have otherwise disappeared from the world. The smallest ones teach us to rediscover simple things: the importance of taking time during meals, the simplicity of washing dishes alongside our "guests," the true meaning of hospitality, the need for growth, respect for our limits, the joy of discovering each person's "gifts," the possibility of living together and saying each evening, "Thank you, Jesus, for the life you have given me."
The neighbors, too, have become part of Il Chicco's life, creating a relationship of mutual exchange and support—so important for a community of the Arche to be well rooted in its surroundings, a family among families. Who knows? Perhaps Il Chicco will grow still further, and with everyone's help, there might be two houses someday. That is our hope!
- Anna Cece, 1987
Read also: What Is the Arche?
