It is ironic that I arrived with my two brothers to USA in October.
Even though I was only 9 yrs old, I can still recall the anxiety of my little brothers who were 7, and 8 yrs old at the time. We were stuck for what seemed like eternity, in a cheap Tijuana motel room. Basically, we were at the mercy of the coyotes. The plan, from what I recall, was to cross as part of a family unit via a car late Sunday evening, like any other family.
I adopted a positive attitude by suppressing my own concerns and put on optimistic face to placate my crying little brother. I reassured him, everything would be OK! We just had to wait a little longer, and we would have a lot of fun when we reached Los Angeles. Ignorance is bliss. Who was I kidding? We had traveled just too far, for too long, and the money was almost too exhausted, for this to fall through.
When the car which transported us through immigration check point crossed, the three of us were seated in the back seat of a compact burgundy car. Thankfully, my brothers were both asleep. I wanted to see what the deal was. It was probably 10:00PM or so. The immigration agent on duty simply looked that the adult’s documents were in order - he was blond as I recall. I looked at him innocently, and offered him a little smile (think my talent to BS is innate).
I am so very thankful we were reunited unharmed with my sisters, grandma and Mom (which we had not seen in a year), in Los Angeles. Why we came here a long, long way from South America? My mom says she was told to come here in a dream by St. Francis Assisi, as well as making clean cut from my dad, post their separation.
I’ve never really told anyone why I was compelled to volunteer at an amputee shelter in Tapachula, Chiapas, Mexico during my vacation in April 2006. The above posted is the reason.
When the car which transported us through immigration check point crossed, the three of us were seated in the back seat of a compact burgundy car. Thankfully, my brothers were both asleep. I wanted to see what the deal was. It was probably 10:00PM or so. The immigration agent on duty simply looked that the adult’s documents were in order - he was blond as I recall. I looked at him innocently, and offered him a little smile (think my talent to BS is innate).
I am so very thankful we were reunited unharmed with my sisters, grandma and Mom (which we had not seen in a year), in Los Angeles. Why we came here a long, long way from South America? My mom says she was told to come here in a dream by St. Francis Assisi, as well as making clean cut from my dad, post their separation.
I’ve never really told anyone why I was compelled to volunteer at an amputee shelter in Tapachula, Chiapas, Mexico during my vacation in April 2006. The above posted is the reason.
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Shelter
I volunteered at the shelter "Albergue Jesus el Buen Pastor del Pobre y el Migrante." on April 10, 2006.
What makes this shelter unique is that it is the only one in the border town of Mexico and Guatemala, which takes in gravely injured people, victims of the freight train going north. Most of the victims originate from Central America or beyond. Their intention is to cross the region of Mexico to the US border via cargo trains to avoid Mexican immigration. Some fall asleep, or simply lose grasp and the trains sucks them, dismembering them in an instant.
I had 1st read of the shelter through a magazine. I contacted the director and creator of this shelter, Mrs. Olga Sanchez Martinez through my local contact in Tapachula, Chiapas. She was recipient of The National Commission for Human Rights in January 2004 given to her by then President Fox. Even so, when it comes to procuring medicine, blood, food, prosthetics, she is basically on her own, and Divine providence, as they have no official funding.
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I requested if I could stay at the shelter for the week I was in vacation, and she agreed. I tried to take with me as much as I could sensibly carry on board. I managed to get 5 wheelchairs donated through retirement homes, and secured waiver from airline to take these without extra charge. Also took three suitcases filled with donated stuff. The happy faces of these guys, was worth the effort and hassle. It was like Christmas for them. Funny how what one does not value, can mean so much to those that have naught – not even limbs. But dreams still intact they do have. I was humbled to witness that even if the body is broken, the spirit can be unbreakable.
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When I arrived on a Monday, I found the situation there dismal to say the least. Lack of purified drinking water, sporadic access to water from well, basic staple of food being coffee, beans, and tortillas, no TV, not enough eating utensils, no a/c in sweltering weather.
Some men where prostrated in diapers, others in limbo, since they were waiting for prosthetics to resume their lives back home.
The 1st day there, I encountered that there was no gas to cook with. I took a taxi with one of the guys and we ventured into the town to get gas for dinner. They did not have a gas tank either that day; it was to be delivered the next day. Our priority was to get gas tank and get it filled for that day. We walked trough various shops, outdoor markets, and could not find one. Eventually we came to a lady who had one, and I tried to bargain with her to lower the price, explaining who it was for etc. She wouldn’t budge, and told me “Best if you go somewhere else, that is the price.” Briefly, I had a moment of déjà vu.
Prior to leaving for my trip, I had read from a book which occasionally I browse through. I opened to a page at random. The paragraph which stood out in my memory was to the effect of: “for He knew what resided in man’s heart.” When I took a good look at that hardened woman, I knew what this meant. I did not want to deal with her. We left and ordered pizzas instead.
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The trip was not a total loss. I did get a bargain price on an old color TV. It was a joyous occasion, and I felt privileged to have been part of that celebration. That evening jokes, laughter, stories, camaraderie, pizza, and the novelty of the used TV, was thoroughly enjoyed.
