Shelter II

The 1st night at the shelter, I slept alone in the women’s sleeping quarters. Since the train had stopped running temporarily those weeks; the flux of people at the shelter was relative small. There were about 26 guys then, although there had been as much as 50 people on occasion.

As tired as I was that day, I could not sleep. It was humid and oppressively hot!

I glimpsed on the metal bed frame, as well as on the bed sheet, what I assumed were old blood stains. These not had not been properly washed out, nor could be erased.

I closed my eyes and pretended to fall asleep; yet, what came to the forefront of my mind was, being enclosed in a casket and interred alive.

I tend to be very sensitive to vibes. I could well imagine the images of agony, and misery this old bed, and this very room had been witnesses' to. These like photographic negative prints taking vivid form and voice in an alternative plane of existence - this very room exists in. The walls seemed saturated with the wails, laments, and death of cherished dreams suffered post the physical, as well as the psychological trauma received. My own silent tears - adding to this collage.

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Much later, well into the following morning - sleep overtook me. Post heartfelt thanks above, I was lured to sleep by the peace of mind that I had all my limbs, and an American passport securely hidden.

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Although I had been offered the to be a guest at the house of my contact there - or any hotel in town given his connections; I declined. I needed to be there with an open mind and heart, if my objective is spiritual development.

I slept about four hours. I got ready for my day, then I asked the security guard where the nearest supermarket was. He told me that I could hitch a ride on the highway, from a micro ( van ) going into town. I was to ask where Chedraui is, which is the equivalent of a Wal Mart.

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I have a thing for fresh baked bread. Every morning (the week I was there), I woke up early to bring for us breakfast, of fresh baked bread, and other necessities. I took a taxi back the 15 miles or so, back to the shelter, as there was a need for lots, lots of liquids in water and soda form for about 30 + people.

After helping Olga's mom, who was in charge of cooking (and creating miracles from the little resources this place receives) to prepare and serve breakfast, I made a priority to clean up a bit. Mind you, I am a bit lazy, yet this was imperative! I filled a bucket with water and detergent, and scoured the bed, as well as any traces of blood from the door frames and walls of the dinning hall, where blood-saturated bandaged wounds had made contact with said surfaces. I cleaned as if one possessed, as if this would somehow erase the horror.

The humid weather, lack of any form of a/c, as well as the pestilence of medicine combined with raw wounds, made me realize purgatory on earth - does exist.

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After cleaning myself up again, I went into town with one of the guys there. He had only lost half of one leg, and hopped about without need for crutches. He was very upbeat and optimistic, always ready with a bright smile - I liked him immensely!

That afternoon was the 1st time he delved into surfing internet at the mall adjacent to the mega market. We also stopped to get a quick lunch at a restaurant similar to Dennys. He said he had never in his 22 yrs gone into such a fancy restaurant. He had always been on the outside, looking in.

I asked him to choose which material would look nice to reupholster the chairs from dinning hall (these looked from 1970’s), as well as a nice plastic cover for the miss matched tables. He chose a bright yellow design with pink and red flowers.

I gave him the task of reupholstering the chairs for him to make a little money. He was so psyched about the project; he didn’t even want to stop working to eat his dinner.

Sometime after dinner, I sat down with Olga to get to know her better. I asked why she did this. Must be noted, hers is the only shelter with long-term medical care for train victims, in a region strategically critical. This region marks the border of Mexico, with the rest of Latin America.

She said that several years ago, she had been diagnosed as terminally ill. She made a promise to God, that is she was cured, she would dedicate her life to helping those in need. Our conversation was interrupted by urgent pounding on the portals of the shelter.