The story of Brother Mario Petrino

'Humility! I got it!'

Mario's life was the Great American Dream.

  

            Brother Mario in Garissa in 1973

[Dad visited Brother Mario a number of times in the Northern Provinces to check up on how he was spending Oxfam's money. The walls were covered with pictures of Mario and Frank Sinatra, Mario and Dean Martin, Mario and Bing Crosby, Mario and local politicians, Mario and Italian gentlemen in dressed smartly. And of course Dad drew his own conclusions about Marios suddenly finding his vocation and deciding to move to the remote Northern Province of Kenya. 

Dad told a story of how he was with Mario. Mario looked up after telling Dad the story of the realisation that he had a vocation and said. 'You know Tony, humility? I got it!' and smiled. This became a phrase we used in our family whenever anyone spoke too well of themselves. 'You know, Humility, I got it.'

By the end of his life though, in 2003, it seems that Brother Mario's phrase rang quite true though he never lost his Midas touch.]

Story by Tony Hall

 (From, 'A Kind of Caring' five writers give their personal impressions of Oxfam's work around the world)

Brother Mario was Mario Petrino of Denver - millionaire and playboy. Now he is using his golden touch to grow melons for the orphans of Garissa Boys town,in North East Kenya.

The North Eastern Province of Kenya is a fierce place. The nomadic Somalis, who live in this semi-arid land are close to its harshness and violence all the time. If it is not drought,famine and disease, it may be lions or crocodiles. And for the five years before 1967, they were caught up in a running war of succession.

Peace brought a slow recovery and more aid from the Kenya government, but at the beginning of last year the rains failed and the whole province was wrecked by drought and famine. New crops of orphans were added to the thousands of parentless and maimed children of the war.

Somali manyattas, clusters of low conical huts, began to spread in the dust around the scattered towns, filled mainly with old people, women and children. A year after the height of the great hunger you can walk into most manyattas, if you dare, and come out with two or three extra behind shouting. Give me a shilling. 

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if Hollywood doesn't make a movie one day about his life and achievements, then Hollywood is losing its touch.

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Garissa is a very small town on the Tana river, some 200 miles from Nairobi, and there, coexisting with the poverty, but not yet reducing it, are patches of green, not the fever green of thorn trees, but the richer blue-green of cabbages and onions. The crops, unseen here before, come from the desert when the water is brought to it. There are 50,000 people in settlements who are trying out new agricultural techniques.But the most breathtaking patch of green is not beside the river at all. It is two miles away, cool beneath hundreds of yards of sprinkling water, and marked only by a sign board: 'Consolate Mission, Garissa, Boys Town.'

You drive in to a sprawl of white buildings in a dusty compound. Children are active everywhere. Even the handicapped children - and there are many of them - move around at a brisk hop on their crutches. Some are fighting in the dust, others play soccer on a large field. A  few run up to you and ask the inevitable: Give me a shilling, trying it on while 'Brother' isn't looking.They take you, eagerly,over to see the dormitories, classrooms and the new carpentry block Oxfam paid for. This is the nucleus of the provinces first Trade School.

Taste the sun ripened cantaloupes they grow in the 20 acre stretch of garden and you realise why the markets of Paris, Rome and Vienna, not to mention the big hotels in Nairobi, are taking all the melons they can buy.

You meet the man who presides over all this - brother Mario Petrino. He helped start the orphanage in 1968 and conceived and carried out this scheme to make the desert productive.

He is a short, bearded man, wearing a Somali skullcap, with a broad smile and easy manner. Until he spots some sign of inefficiency or indecision. Then he can rail at farm worker, mission worker, orphan or mission father. His accent is a rich Italian American, his language fruit with expletives. Mario Petrino is a real 'Character' and if Hollywood doesn't make a movie one day about his life and achievements, then Hollywood is losing its touch for Mario's life is the Great American Dream as told in the Reader's Digest.

'How I rode an air-conditioned Lincoln Continental - then found God.'

He was born in Chicago, one of six children of Italian immigrants. His mother never thought Mario would amount to much. The family hit the bottom at the time of the depression, and Mario had to leave school. His years in the competitive jungle of Chicago, along with his cynical style, a useful toughness, 

'There are two kinds of jungles.' he says.

As family fortunes improved, Mario's father bought a bar and a restaurant in Denver Colorado.Over the next 20 years Mario became a very wealthy man, who like to spend his money, he drove an air-conditioned Lincoln Continental and lived it up in Beverly Hills with the film stars and the high society of the American west.

It was one of his many girlfriends who suggested that he give it all up and join a religious order. He told her that she was mad, but began to think:

'You see, a small dark area of boredom had entered my life.' He explained, as we sat in the mission over a 'Garissa Highball', mixed by the hand of an expert barman.

I'd arrived. I had everything. Beautiful girls, cars, champagne every night...What now?'

'I'm a funny sort of guy. I don't know how much faith I have, or how much courage. But he told me what to do.' Mario stabbed a finger skywards.

In 1958 at the age of 45, Mario started his new life without a dime. He spent the next two years doing the kind of dirty work only the lowest paid of his staff had done in his bars and restaurants, scrubbing pots and pans and cleaning floors. Then he took vows and was sent to a monastery, 

'It was as tough as a Marine Corps training camp, and at 47 I was the granddaddy of the novitiates.'  

After some years doing administrative work, brother Mario was sent out to Kenya as a hospital administrator. Then came to Garissa.

Since then Boys Town has become one of the places to visit to see development in Kenya. Brother Mario has met President Kenyatta, Spiro Agnew and Apollo astronauts. He has appeared before millions of American viewers on the Johny Carson show and with David Frost. His is earning himself a place back amongst the celebrities.

Boys town is the home of more than 170 boys between the ages of three and seventeen. Some boys go to the self help secondary school. Those who don't make it are given training in carpentry. There are also plans for a trade school and some are already getting a very practical training in motor mechanics, at the new filling station. And Brother Mario, with his usual business flair, has secured for Boys Town the sole agency in the province for Toyota vehicles and Firestone tyres, two of the hottest selling lines in Kenya.It is probably the best equipped filling station in the province, complete with grease bays. But it is the modern melon bonanza that is making the project take off economically.

'The best farm in Kenya developed by a man who had never touched the land before.' said one astounded agricultural engineer.

Before starting, he wrote to Oxfam: 'With water the province could be changed into a real garden where almost all garden crops, including vegetables and fruit trees could be grown. Towards the end of 1969 he wrote: 'It has been a rough road, full of disappointments. I have no tractor, and used my LandRover to plough the whole area.I'm glad it's all over and we have brought the 20th century to the North Eastern Province.'
Today the overhead irrigation brings over 100,000 gallons a day.It plays over neat rows of vegetables ripening in the constant sun. The acreage is steadily being increased. It is possible to gross from melons, with three crops a year, and annual income of £3,000 on one tenth of an acre - as productive and professional as an estate in Florida or California.

Mario went through several Kenyan farm managers until he was satisfied. And when he found the right man, he told him: 'I'm gonna make you rich, because you're good.'

And Mario has ability in those crucial areas where many first class projects eventually falter. He knows how to find markets, how to rustle up local resources like transport, and how to get the goods delivered on time.

'I've been living in a pressure cooker here', he said as we sat down to talk one hot evening. 'Money's always been the big problem, we never have enough, but now I got money makers, the melons.'

Mario is still after money to finance his bigger plans. He opened a letter from an old friend in the States. He never sends money this guy. I don't know what's a mater with him. His wife must put it all on the big stuff.'

In the old days Mario had placed many a thousand dollar bet on the horses. He talked with more understanding than bitterness about the people he had known. 'Filthy rich, but so damn mean. Dehydrated, like the poor Somalis.'

He talked about one boy after another. 'Omari, the tall thin boy, he does the 100 yards in 11 seconds. I put him in charge of the boys. He was a shepherd. Real sick when he came here. I gave him a job. When the school started I said "You go to school or you don't work for me!" so he went. He's a leader now.

Mario got up and went outside of the room. Suddenly water was falling heavily outside in front of the windows, like a cooling rainstorm - and it went on through the evening as we talked. He was showing off his 'rain'. 'Doesn't it make you feel cool?' he asked proudly. It's an idea I had. It's pleasant and it keeps things green around the place.'

as you sink back in your chair to enjoy it the gimmick seems wasteful - until you remember that he brought all this water here anyway, and has put up taps and washing facilities for all the people of the manyattas.

But there is a shadow over this sun-baked success. Agricultural development of this kind leaps far ahead of social development. More projects like the Tana irrigation scheme, in which Oxfam is helping, need to be launched. And they need consciously to draw in the very poorest of the herdless nomads.

But give Brother Mario his due. It was he who demonstrated what could be done with the land. Others may have known in theory - but he was the first to get there and do it.

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Brother Mario's obituary in Catholic Spirit, February 2003

There was no one to blow out the candles after the daily evening Mass Feb. 21 in the Consolata Chapel in the Regional Mission Center, Somerset.

That small duty, as well as setting up the sacristy, leading the evening Rosary and proclaiming the Word of God during the Mass, were just a few of the tasks faithfully done by Consolata Brother Mario Petrino, who died Feb. 19 in Robert Wood Johnson University Hospital, New Brunswick. 

It was Consolata Father Leonard DePasquale, North American regional superior, who blew out the candles that day, the evening of Brother Petrino’s wake at the Mission Center. That was when he realized that, while the Consolata Fathers will be taking turns doing Brother Petrino’s everyday jobs, no one will ever be able to fill his shoes.

In his homily at the Feb. 22 Mass of Christian Burial in St. Augustine of Canterbury Church, Kendall Park, where Brother Petrino worshiped every Sunday, principal celebrant Father DePasquale recalled a “good steward” who “was at heart . . . a cheerful optimistic person with Christian hope” who balanced activity and prayer in his life.

The Mass was concelebrated by Consolata Father Carlos Sierra, lay missionary director, Somerset, and about 10 priests of the Consolata Society and Metuchen Diocese.

For Brother Petrino, “better times” were always coming, advice he gave to many along his path in life, Father DePasquale said. And that life was one of joy and service both here in the United States and in Kenya.

“Brother Mario’s example has enhanced for us the meaning of the vocation of brotherhood, or vowed religious life in community, which flows from our Baptismal faith,” Father DePasquale said.

“(His) faithful example, until age 89, offers inspiration to young people today to accept the challenge, to know that committed life is possible and that God does bless us with the grace, the possibility, to fulfill our vocation,” he stated.

In a brief eulogy, Father Sierra stated that he and Brother Petrino had shared a daily cup of “good Italian coffee” and conversation for many years, times that he would very much miss.

He recalled a brother in the Lord who “accomplished many things,” but whose most important stage of life were his final years, spent in “constant prayer.”

Born Nov. 29, 1913, in Miranda, Italy, Brother Petrino was one of six children. He immigrated to the United States in 1923, and was successful in business until the age of 49, when he experienced a deep conversion and answered the Lord’s call to become a Consolata Missionary, making his religious profession Oct. 2, 1962. 

In 1959, Brother Petrino was sent to the missions in Kenya. There he founded a Boys Town in 1968 for more than 200 boys in Garissa, in the deserts of northeastern Kenya. It was there where he introduced irrigation and vegetable farming to the people. Kenyan and American media picked up the project, with much publicity in the U.S. Among the photos treasured by Brother Petrino was one taken at Boys Town with Bing Crosby.

In 1974, he was assigned as administrator of the Consolata Seminary, Buffalo, N.Y. He served in mission promotion, giving hundreds of lectures on mission work in schools, churches and organizations throughout the U.S. 

Brother Petrino is survived by two brothers, Leo of Albuquerque, N.M., and Eugene of Littleton, Colo.; his sister Phyllis Orlando of Oakbrook, Ill., and several nieces and nephews. 

Funeral arrangements were handled by Gleason Funeral Home, Somerset. Interment was on Feb. 24 in Saints Peter and Paul Cemetery, Buffalo, N.Y.