On the last day of our trip our group went to the River, a place called No Esperanza, or No Hope in English. It was a shanty, an illegal squat filled with families that technically weren’t allowed to be there. Each year the Government comes in with bulldozers to flatten the squat, leaving dozens, if not hundreds of families to rebuild annually. Most of the adults in No Esperanza work in the massive factories in the surrounding area. These factories hover around the edge of the squat, always visible. I remember thinking what a slap in the face it is to have those factories right there; it is most people’s worst nightmare to be employed in one of those factories, with such terrible conditions and meagre pay, and yet it is the only job most could ever hope to have. The job that they are so desperate to run from is the only job they have to turn to; now with the economy like it is many factories are shutting down and the workers are cut off from what little pay they had. Big corporations like Nestle and Panasonic are just a couple of the companies whose factories exploit the local people in and around No Esperanza.
It seems ironic, but as we were walking through No Esperanza, handing out beans, rice and milk, along with soccer balls and backpacks, I didn’t feel like the situation was so very hopeless. Looking around I felt sad because the living conditions were atrocious, but it really didn’t feel like the people had lost all hope. They seemed strong, like they were willing to do and were doing everything in their power to get food on the table for their families. Some homeless people are in their situation because of choice they’ve made; these people were just born into their circumstances. It’s not at all fair, but I guess that’s life.
After giving out food, etc., we sang songs and did a drama in their small church building, followed by some soccer in the street. I went out and sat on one of the rocks that lined the street, only to be swarmed by a bunch of little girls. We took some pictures together; they absolutely love seeing themselves on camera! Then the simplest, gentlest thing happened: the girls grabbed my hands, held them, touched them, played with the ring on my finger, and kept saying, “Blanco! Blanco!” in reference to my fair skin. We counted both our own and each other’s fingers, 1-10 in both Spanish and English for about 20 minutes. All the while I had at least one girl on my lap and two or three holding on to me, sitting as close as possible with my arm around them. Their mannerisms proved that they were so starved for human love and touch; their eyes conveyed this desperation to be held, to be shown genuine love and affection. As I showed love to them they so freely loved me back. There we were, one white teenaged girl with a group of Mexican children, separated by language, age, race and social class, and yet there was such a connection; there was no need for words. Their love was so pure and unconditional, with such innocence that only children possess. This moment was the most defining point of the trip for me; I kept coming back to the fact that, although building a house is a practical and amazing gift, among the poor, the needy, with the children is where you would find Christ, and that is definitely where I want to be found.
- Submitted by Sarah K.
