A Triage Team for the Needy

Social worker Amelia Nieto’s workday begins with a prayer. Standing in a circle with the small army of volunteers at her Centro Shalom office in east Long Beach, she asks, “Please grant us the wisdom to give our people the relief they need.”

Then she takes her seat at a cluttered desk, surrounded by ringing phones, squalling babies and impoverished clients chattering in Spanish, Chinese, Cambodian and English.

Some come seeking donations of clothing or food. Others arrive with pressing legal problems: child-custody complaints, eviction notices, immigration disputes, lawsuits involving traffic accidents.

Hoping to avoid going into a foster care program, a young girl and her sister whose mother is dying have asked for help in finding a new home. Residents of a housing project are pleading for assistance in ridding their units of gang members.

Nibbling on tortilla chips while studying the fine print of a client’s disputed rental contract, Nieto said, “Our clients were dealt lousy hands in life but can’t afford lawyers.

“We’re not attorneys,” she said. “But we help them with their basic needs and to fill out forms and to connect them with the right people, offices and agencies.”

Some would call that an understatement.

Each day, the 25-year-old agency founded by her mother, Olivia Herrera, feeds 165 people, hands out 200 pieces of clothing and assists at least a dozen clients with legal problems. It also sponsors a variety of neighboring programs, including a self-esteem class for women.

A year ago, when local utility rates soared so high that some residents began forsaking their gas stoves, washing machines and daily showers, Centro Shalom started loaning out microwaves because cooking with the electrical appliances was cheaper than using gas stoves.

All this, with 40 committed volunteers, including Nieto’s 88-year-old grandmother, Trini Alvillar, and a daily cash expenditure of about $95.

By 3 p.m. one Friday, the line of people waiting to see Nieto and her assistants still stretched out the door and onto the sidewalk fronting bustling Anaheim Street.

Surveying the afternoon workload, Nieto just smiled and said, “I love my job. I’m where I’m supposed to be.”