PANJIM: A self-confessed rabble-rouser, Florence Mendes does not mince words. Whether she is counselling a troubled teen, advocating for a victim of domestic abuse or taking a roadside encroacher to task, Florence speaks her mind, and invariably manages to get the upper hand. The sight of this sharply-dressed senior citizen zipping around on her scooter is a common one in and around Moira, Aldona and Anjuna, where local policemen rely on Florence to help them with mediation and counselling, in sensitive police cases. Well into her 40th year of social work today, Florence is still the firebrand she was when she started out, only with a better understanding of the system and its flaws. “I have always been a restless person, I guess. I can’t keep quiet or be diplomatic when something wrong is happening in front of me, and that’s why I chose this path in life,” says Florence, who recalls her first rasta-roko in 1983, when she and a few other women began a campaign for more frequent buses from Moira to Nachinola. “The public transport was so poor, and the few buses that pass through our village would run packed. You could see school children with bags trudging all the way. We used to walk to meet the BDO and other local authorities, and fight for more buses,” she says. Other protests and campaigns, against local anti-social elements and civic issues followed, and Florence also began working as a counsellor, for students of well-known schools in the area. “Drugs are a big problem in many village schools.
The students used to confide in me and describe their drug use in innocent detail, because I did not judge them and they trusted me enough to let me help them. It was very rewarding when the school got cent percent results for the first time that year,” she reminisces.
Florence’s work with children continued when she ran a kindergarten and activity centre, and on the side, she was still helping the police navigate dicey situations like domestic quarrels and disputes between parents and children. “There are frightening and tragic stories in every small, sleepy village here, and it is gut-wrenching to counsel minor victims of rape, violence, and neglect. It is my faith in God and hope for a better tomorrow that keeps me going,” she says, in a non-nonsense manner. Her work – which she does not get paid for- often has her scrambling to leave her house at odd times. “My family is fed up, but they have learned to live with it,” she laughs sheepishly. “Age has caught up, and I get tired more easily these days, so I avoid late night calls.” Florence also did a stint with several women’s rights and green organisations, where she worked with other fiery activists towards dismantling patriarchy. “I used to attend morchas with my baby strapped to my back,” she recalls with a smile. “In 2013, my niece, who lived in Canada, lost her battle against cancer, and I decided to start the Francine Martyris Memorial Crisis Counselling Centre, to provide my services pro bono in her name,” she says. Apart from this, Florence also visits the Children’s court and family court for her clients. “I have realised that having efficient and proactive officials – be it police, panchayat or local administration- can make all the difference. Down the years, I have seen many constables, clerks and panchayat staffers work their way up the ranks and are in high positions now. While some work with integrity, many are simply there to get a piece of the budget allocated to develop the village committees, with no dedicated service,” she laments.
While Florence rattles off one detailed anecdote after the other, talking about specific cases where she was called in to take up for the voiceless- the five-year-old child of migrant labourers who was sexually assaulted, and was not even aware of it; the aggressive schizophrenic widow whom she found living alone in a state of squalor; the teenage girl on the run from an abusive father; the special-needs woman whom she took in after she was robbed and evicted from her home – it becomes evident that each of these ‘victims’ had a huge impact on Florence, and she on them. “Of course, they made an impact on me. We are fortunate to have plenty, and grow up with safe, loving families. It becomes our duty to share, and help others heal from their trauma or get justice, in whatever way we can,” she asserts.
