Sa Casa Llarga: A community on the edge of Palma at risk

Sa Casa Llarga is located a few kilometers outside Palma's center, hidden behind olive trees and a dusty access road. What looks unassuming has for years been a lifeline for people who find no place elsewhere. Around fifty residents have a stable home here; in addition, dozens come daily for dinner. I visited several times in late afternoons: the smells from the kitchen, the clink of tools, the dogs circling your shoes — all very down to earth. The approach is pragmatic: no one is given alms. Instead, life is worked for together. Everyone has tasks — repairs, harvesting vegetables, caring for animals, cooking — and those who take part receive shelter and food. It feels honest and respectful. Over the years the residents and supporters have repaired the finca bit by bit; you can see the work in the walls and windows. Now the owner has unexpectedly decided to sell the property. Suddenly more than a roof is at stake: it is a network of relationships, job opportunities and the everyday life of people who would otherwise be on the street. The founder, Jaume, has publicly protested and even chained himself to the gates to buy time. While the legal status is clarified, the more urgent question remains: how do we care for the people here and now? Donations, practical help and public attention are crucial.

Sa Casa Llarga is located a few kilometers outside Palma's center, hidden behind olive trees and a dusty access road. What looks unassuming has for years been a lifeline for people who find no place elsewhere. Around fifty residents have a stable home here; in addition, dozens come daily for dinner. I visited several times in late afternoons: the smells from the kitchen, the clink of tools, the dogs circling your shoes — all very down to earth. The approach is pragmatic: no one is given alms. Instead, life is worked for together. Everyone has tasks — repairs, harvesting vegetables, caring for animals, cooking — and those who take part receive shelter and food. It feels honest and respectful. Over the years the residents and supporters have repaired the finca bit by bit; you can see the work in the walls and windows. Now the owner has unexpectedly decided to sell the property. Suddenly more than a roof is at stake: it is a network of relationships, job opportunities and the everyday life of people who would otherwise be on the street. The founder, Jaume, has publicly protested and even chained himself to the gates to buy time. While the legal status is clarified, the more urgent question remains: how do we care for the people here and now? Donations, practical help and public attention are crucial.

Those who want to support have several options: donate once or regularly, help with renovation work, bring food or clothing, or promote the initiative on social networks. There is also a donations account for transfers (IBAN: ES9221001406180200063959, BIC: CAIXESBB652) — please check before making a transfer if possible. Personal visits are welcome; just call or send a message beforehand so someone knows when you will be there.

Jaume is not a manager or an official welfare worker — he is someone who decided to tie his life to a project. At nearly 76 years old he lives modestly on the finca, sometimes sleeping in a small room there and sharing the community's daily life. His attitude is unpretentious: he says the aim is to give people a chance, not just to take care of them. That he chained himself to the gates seems like an act of desperation, but also a last attempt to buy time until a better solution is found. Many neighbors appreciate him; others simply respect what has been built here over the years.