Once-Bitter Enemies Unite to Help Others : Wilmington: Young men are giving blood instead of shedding it. Their donations may help save lives through the National Bone Marrow Donor Program.

In the fledgling days of a truce between once-warring young men from opposite sides of Wilmington, those who want to keep the peace are working hard at keeping themselves and their friends busy.

Young men who are busy--who have work, who have a place for recreation--are peaceful men, they say.

Which is one reason why 57 youths came together at the Wilmington Teen Center recently to give blood and sign up for the National Bone Marrow Donor Program.

Acting on a suggestion by Susan Pritchard, deputy to City Councilwoman Joan Milke Flores, each of the young men donated a syringe-full of blood to be tissue-typed for bone marrow matching across the nation.

Pritchard had read a magazine article that said minorities are needed to donate bone marrow, and she brought the idea to the teen center. Organizers of the gang truce seized the idea and put the word out on the street through the mostly Latino gangs that had called a truce following the civil unrest in Los Angeles.

And then they waited, hopeful that the tough young men of the streets would respond to a call for help.

They did. For four hours, young gang members and others sauntered into the large back room of the teen center. Many had obvious gang allegiances, others did not.

Tattoos of attractive women decorated the biceps of many a donor as the young men--soft-spoken ones and gregarious ones, some with shaved heads and sagging jeans, some with shy smiles--filled out forms before baring their arms for the needle.

If their blood samples match those of patients waiting for bone marrow transplants, the young men say they are ready to follow through and donate their bone marrow.

“I guess I came because everyone was doing it--it’s something to do,” said 19-year-old Raul Diaz, who said he was not in a gang. “And if somebody needs it real bad--I mean real bad--then I guess I’d go through with it all the way. . . . I mean like if they’re dying.”

Diaz’s volunteerism typified the feelings of many of the donors.

No one at the center seemed to think it an odd form of charity for men considered to be some of the roughest in the community.

In addition to laying down weapons, some young men, many of whom belong to the eastside Wilmas or westside Wilmas--rival gangs for decades--have been trying to change their public image.

After the violence sparked by the acquittal of four white officers in the beating of motorist Rodney King, the Wilmas, like many gangs throughout the city, agreed not to fight each other anymore.

Community activists see the change. Eastside natives now come onto the westside and don’t watch their backs--too much. Westside Wilmas go to parties on the eastside and return home unscathed.

Police say they too see a difference now that youths living east of Avalon Boulevard are not fighting with those living west of it.

“Basically, the eastside and westside came to terms, and while I couldn’t give statistics about how much crime has dropped, it is noticeable that the truce is making somewhat of a difference,” said Capt. Timothy King of the Harbor-area police substation.

Nineteen-year-old Adolfo Anaya, who said he does not belong to a gang, said there is hope that “this truce might work. You got people from the westside and people from the eastside here today, and everything is peaceful.”

Connie Calderon, the teen center’s director, also has faith in the truce. She is careful not to stereotype the young men and never uses the word “gang.” Some young men, she said, are involved in drugs and others are not. A few are troublemakers. Youths with neighborhood loyalties and friendships should not automatically be called gang members, she said.

The bone marrow donor drive is proof of the power the youths have to bring positive changes to Wilmington, she said.

“I could help them set this up, but I couldn’t go out looking for the guys and get them all to come in here--that’s all the guys’ work. They did it,” she said. “They’re on a roll, and now they just want to keep it going.”

In addition to community service, the youths turned out to honor Manuel Muratalla, a former teen center employee who drowned Aug. 23 in a swimming accident. Before he died, Muratalla was the first to publicly offer his blood for the donor program.

Tanya Moore, an official with the National Bone Marrow Donor program, snapped pictures of those donating blood to hang on the wall in her office. It’s not unusual for her to photograph people volunteering to be bone marrow donors, she said, but she cannot remember ever recruiting donors at a teen center where many of the volunteers have been involved in gangs. Usually she goes to women’s clubs, Rotary groups and the like.

About 9,000 people nationwide need bone marrow transplants, Moore said. The donor program, based in Minneapolis, has 650,000 volunteers registered. Donors must be 18 to 55, and matches are most likely to be made between people of the same race or ethnic group. The results of the donor drive will be entered into the national program’s computer in Minneapolis, Moore said. The men will learn in about two weeks if they have been matched with a patient.

“This is such a good thing they’re doing,” she said. “It’s just wonderful.”

Should a match be found from among the donors at the teen center, the donor program will pay for the donor’s transportation to the hospital where the matched recipient is waiting for marrow. In a procedure that lasts about a day, marrow will then be extracted with needles from the donor’s hip and inserted into the patient, Moore said. Transplants for some conditions can have about a 70% success rate, she said.

Doing good is now something of a mission for Hector Velez. Four months out of jail, where he spent two years for robbery, 22-year-old Velez is doing anything he can to change his ways.

“You know, I’ve just got to the point where I want to live my life without no trouble,” he said. “I’m the kind of person that likes to help. So instead of someone dying, I’m doing this.”

The “Wilmas” tattoo scripted across the side of his neck pulses when he speaks. The tattoo shows his loyalty to friends, the place he was raised, the people who helped him survive hard times. The drugs and crime are gone; his loyalties remain, he says.

Velez works in the teen center bike shop, and when he’s not working, he works out with weights to stay busy. “Everybody’s got a past don’t they?” he asked. “I don’t like to look back. I like to look forward. So I work hard.”

A door leading outside is ajar, and the aroma of grilled meat, rice, beans and tortillas floats into the room.

John Mendez of J. M. Catering and president of the Wilmington Fiesta Committee has brought his oversized grill to the center and wields a spatula over the meat. The fiesta committee donated the food for the barbecue. As the meat sizzles over the coals, the mood is breezy, almost festive. The day was a success and everyone is proud.

Before the donor drive, the youths held two car washes to raise money for Muratalla’s funeral, but the work they did drew less attention than they thought they deserved. The bone marrow donor drive, however, received support from homeboys, community activists and politicians.

At dinner, Councilwoman Flores walked into the teen center, and after congratulating the events’ organizers, made herself at home with a plate of food. Learning who she was, several young men went to talk to her.

Giving only his first name, Richard said to her: “I’ve been laid off for a year. I got a family.” It is both statement and question.

“What do you think is the answer to creating more jobs?” Flores asked in response. “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

Richard is silent.

Two or three men asked her about jobs and recreational programs and how the North American Free Trade Agreement will hurt them. She said she thought it will help American workers in the long run. They want jobs now.

Gesturing to the eating, laughing people around them, Richard tells Flores that he and others who organized the truce are doing their part to keep the peace between gangs. Once peace is firmly established, they will try to end fighting between Wilmington and other communities’ gangs. But gangs would not be the problem they are, he said, if she could provide recreational programs and jobs.

Self-help is the solution, she said.

“There’s an old Chinese saying you’ve probably heard,” she said.

“Trust no one?” offered one man.

“No.” She said that giving a man a fish will feed him for one day, but teaching a man how to fish is to feed him forever.

The men nod, but do not seem sure whether her words mean she will help them, or whether she is saying that the donor drive proves they are able to fish for themselves.