Buenos Aires’ poor neighborhoods mourn ‘slum pope’ Francis

By Miguel Lo Bianco

BUENOS AIRES (Reuters) – In the poor Zabaleta district of Buenos Aires, amidst precarious houses and narrow alleys, María Ayala walks the same streets Pope Francis walked during his years as a priest to reach the local parish, which is now opening its doors to remember him.

“He was with us for a long time; we worked here inside the church. He cooked food with me,” said Ayala, a 76-year-old retiree, with tears in her eyes as she held a statue of Francis at the entrance to the parish in Zabaleta, also known as ‘Villa 21-24’, in the Argentine capital city.

Francis, the first Latin American head of the Roman Catholic Church, died on Monday after suffering a stroke at the age of 88, leaving a legacy of defending the poor, trying to modernize and open up the Church, and leading a humble lifestyle.

“I started crying when I heard that Pope Francis had died. A lot of pain, a lot of sadness, but at the same time, a lot of peace. It’s clear he needed to rest,” said Lorenzo Vedia, priest of the Parish of Our Lady of Miracles of Caacupé in the Zabaleta neighborhood, neatly painted in blue and white.

“From heaven, he will guide us, he will accompany us. So we lost him on earth, but we gained him in heaven,” Vedia told Reuters.

Francis was born Jorge Mario Bergoglio in Buenos Aires in 1936 to Italian immigrant parents.

Ahead of his funeral on Saturday, many in Buenos Aires have spoken fondly about the soccer-loving former local archbishop who used to travel by bus to reach the poor shanty town areas of the city and share food and drink with locals.

‘SLUM POPE’

That later led to his affectionate moniker as the “slum pope”, even if some people regret that he never returned to his home country during his papacy.

The Archbishop of Buenos Aires, Jorge Ignacio García Cuerva, called Francis “the Pope of the Poor” in a Mass held in his honour, and that’s how residents recall him. They live in humble houses with tin roofs, unplastered walls and bare cement floors.

“He would wander into the alleyways, even if it was raining, he would stroll through, roll up his trousers, and walk with the people through the neighborhood,” said Leonardo Pereyra, a local resident who works in a church soup kitchen.

“So he was a priest, a simple, humble cardinal, because it’s not just that there are few priests who choose the shantytown, as he did, but that he felt at ease with everyone, just as the people felt with him.”

(Reporting by Miguel Lo Bianco; Writing by Eliana Raszewski; Editing by Adam Jourdan and Gareth Jones)