Tropical Storm Danny kicked up a decent surf late Friday morning at Narragansett Town Beach, but the small group of gang members paddling on surfboards near the corner sea wall didn’t seem too fazed by the possibility of an impending storm or the dangers of the Atlantic.
The boys and young men from the streets of Providence are accustomed to danger: murders and drive-by shootings have been a regular part of their lives and all of them have spent time locked up for various crimes in the Training School in Cranston. Last week’s outing, was well … a day at the beach.
“It’s fun, a good sport,” said Outhone Inlavongsa, who is from Smith Hill, home to Laos Pride, a well-established gang of Laotian boys. He had recently spent about eight months behind bars for an undisclosed crime.
Inlavongsa and the other gang members had trouble zipping up the back of the tight-fitting rubber wetsuits, but they looked just like any of the other young men on the beach who toted longboards into the breaking surf.
Nobody on the beach knew who they were or anything about their gang affiliation. They were just teenagers enjoying the day.
“Just go and have fun,” Inlavongsa said. “There’s a first time for everything. You should go and try it.”
The outing was arranged through the Institute for the Study & Practice of Nonviolence, the Youth Transition Center in Providence and the state juvenile Probation Department. The objective was to take troubled gang members — some of them from rival groups — and have them enjoy themselves in a setting far removed from the city streets.
The four gang members at the beach are associated with four different gangs or crews in the city.
The police estimate that there are about 1,400 gang members in the Providence area and another 100 in Cranston. During the first seven months of this year, 17 people — 13 in Providence and 4 in Cranston — have been wounded in gang-related violence.
The day of surfing was the brainstorm of Shayla Belanger, who works for the nonviolence institute as a case manager for juvenile reentry. She said that she was surfing off the coast of North Carolina last spring when the idea popped into her head. She said she was paddling in the Outer Banks and realized that the sport embodies everything the institute stands for: grace, humility, patience and teamwork. She returned to Providence and began laying plans for Friday’s outing.
“I believe everybody in the water is equal,” she said. “As soon as I get them out there and show them something beautiful, they open right up.”
Belanger said she approached about 18 troubled boys and invited them on the day trip. She said that five of them took her up the offer. One of them, she said, was floored by the idea.
“Really, you can do that?” he said. “You can take me surfing? I’m down with that.”
She said that she wasn’t surprised that several of them jumped at the opportunity — even though they may not be accomplished swimmers.
“They are used to danger,” she said. “They are looking for that danger. That rush.”
Gansett Juice, a surf shop in Narragansett donated the surfboards and wetsuits, while Douglas Shehan, and his stepson, Griffin Koskua, 13, both surfers, agreed to meet the city boys on the beach and provide them with some tips.
“Hey, look! He’s already standing,” said Shehan as he eyed one of the newcomers from the shore. “They are doing good.”
Chandana, 16, a Cambodian gang member from Cranston, had always dreamed about surfing, but he never had the opportunity. He said he’s trying to stay on the straight and narrow after spending a year in the Training School for first-degree robbery.
He stopped short of saying that he has abandoned life as a gang member.
“I’m going to lay off a little bit,” he said. “I’m not going to hang out as much as I did before.”
Sal Monteiro, a senior streetworker, was having as much fun as the boys. He donned a wetsuit and joined them in the surf with a long board. He knows that getting rival gang members together and participating in activities away from the city streets can help reduce violence.
Monteiro said it’s a lot harder to shoot or attack someone you know regardless of whether they are part of a rival gang. The day at the beach may someday make a gang member think twice about pumping a slug into another young man.
“Now, they know each other,” he said. “There’s a name to a face. It’s no longer, he’s an Oriental Rascal, or that’s so and so. That’s how love spreads.”






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