An Adventure No Child Should Have To Take

The first paragraph of this blog may be best read out loud with you following the cues and directions of the person working with you. However, if that is impossible, do not worry – hopefully my message will still come across.

Unaccompanied minors riding a train through Mexico.

Imagine being nine years old, and holding on to the top of a freight train as you travel the unknown countryside. You begin this journey out of hope, out of desire or out of desperation. In some cases, you planned with your best friend to escape your home life; in others you just up and leave, hoping you will find people, some companions along the way. You’ve never been outside your own town; but all you know is that if you stay at home any longer you will be subjected to feeling unwanted, finding gangs attractive or maybe something worse. In some cases you began this adventure in the southern most tip of the country, traveling hundreds of miles and countless days. You brought only what you need to survive and nothing more. Any sign of food is a gift, which is beyond the simplicity of “thank you” or even the gratitude of a “hug;” because in so many cases the bite of bread will save your life. Countless children make this adventure to the United States through Mexico every year. Some children do this because of the reasons listed above, others because they have not seen their mother or father in several years, and even more adventure because of the hope that the United States brings. In 2004, a total 668, 000 immigrants came to the US, from that number, 507,000 people immigrated to the United States through the United States / Mexico boarder. What is even more frightening is that over 1.5 million were apprehended along the southwest border. In the same year, the number of Border Safety Initiative deaths was 328 (Border Crossing Death). According to the Non-Profit, No More Deaths, No Más Muertes, 252 people have died since October 1, 2009.

Of the thousands that travel through Mexico on the freight train system, two to five percent are unaccompanied minors fighting to find a way to the United States by themselves. No matter which way you fall on the immigration issue, I firmly believe that within the umbrella issue of immigration there is the separate issue of unaccompanied children migrants traveling from Honduras, Guatemala and other Latin American countries in attempts find simple human emotions and desires: happiness, love & acceptance.

Those of you who know me well, know that my passion is pretty much anything related to children. Last Monday (October 18), the staff of Casa Marinella and the JVC: Austin community were invited to watch “Which Way Home,” a documentary about unaccompanied minors traveling through Mexico with the intention of moving to the United States for work, to find their parents or to start over. As the whole group piled into the common space, there was hesitancy to start to watch such a heavy documentary. But there is no way that any of us were prepared for the stories we would watch unfold before our eyes. We followed the tale of seven children as they adventure to the land of hope.

• Fito, 13-year-old Honduran whose mother abandoned him when he was very young; lives with his impoverished grandmother, who has a job making cigars. He is traveling to the U.S. to look for work and hopes to be adopted.
• Yurico, a 17-year-old Mexican who ran away from his mother; has lived on the streets of Tapachula, Chiapas since age seven. Yurico proclaims that his life has been spent begging and sleeping on streets, thieving and abusing drugs; sometimes he makes money by washing buses at the city depot. Yurico wants a life free of drugs and violence, and is traveling to the U.S. to find a loving family.
• Jairo, a 14-year-old Mexican whose father never accepted him. He has lived on the streets of Chiapas since his mother was killed a year ago. Schooling is very important to him, but he cannot currently afford to continue his education. Jairo has decided to go to Laredo, Texas to find employment, and then return to Mexico with money to hire a tutor.
• Jose, a nine-year-old Salvadoran, lives with his aunt, and has not seen his mother, Rosa, since she left to work in the U.S. three years ago. Hoping to live with her, he traveled through Mexico on a bus with a smuggler. When Mexican immigration officials boarded the bus, the smuggler abandoned Jose, who was then taken to a detention center.
• Olga and Freddy, nine-year-old Hondurans being taken to the U.S. by smugglers, travel on Mexican freight trains. Olga is trying to get to her mother and sisters in Minnesota, while Freddy wants to reunite with his father. Both have witnessed many accidents while riding the trains, and hope that God will bless their journey.
• Juan Carlos, a 13-year-old Guatemalan, left a letter for his mother Esmeralda, stating that he was going to the U.S. to help her and his siblings. Juan Carlos' father abandoned the family years ago, so he feels it is his responsibility to provide for them. He also wants to find his father in New York, and confront him about why he's forgotten them.
• “Which Way Home” also features the families of two young migrants who did not survive their journey. The bodies of 13-year-old Eloy and his 16-year-old cousin Rosario were found separately in the desert. Their deaths, along with the other stories of those featured in the film, underscore the extremely dangerous journey undertaken by these often-invisible children, who are making adult decisions to change their lives (Which Way Home Web site).

These children are forced to endure pains that most people cannot even fathom in their lives - fear of never reaching the United States, fear of never seeing family again or the fear of death from dehydration or hunger. Over the last week, I have found myself not only thinking about all that I have taken for granted; but also realizing how minuscule major events are compared to what these children persevere through.  

Other Side of the Fence: Seven Days Without A Car

View before 6:50 bus.

Starting Wednesday before last (September 29 for clarification), I started my seven-day challenge to go without using my car, poor George. It was a very enlightening experience.  Before my challenge, I took the bus the majority of the week, but I always had the safety net of my car. Oh! There is a 20 percent chance of rain – I’ll drive. Oh! I might possibly be late for the bus – I’ll drive. Oh, I might have to run an errand for work - I’ll drive.

Afternoon view on Colorado Ave.
while I wait for the number 10 bus.

There are a lot of reasons for my going without a car for 7 days, but we’ll focus specifically on my wanting to look at the life of many of the people we serve at Catholic Charities. I don’t have any crazy stories from my adventures, but just tales of Murphy’s Law and its effects. The first day of my challenge went flawlessly smooth. It’s the second day, in which the tales begin. I slept through my first alarm and woke up at 6:30 for my 6:50 bus. For those of you who know me well, know this had to be an interesting
experience. Friday, I found myself running through downtown Austin (granted only a block) looking like Steve Carrel in Little Miss Sunshine. Except I had my bareley stuffed navy blue backpack and a cardboard box held for dear life in my arms. The box was full of information about Spring Hill for a college fair; and I found myself running to catch my second bus in attempts to not have to sit on the bus bench for another half hour. At the bare minimum, I provided a much-needed chuckle for the bus driver.  The following Monday, I found myself walking the route of my second bus, because I missed it. As I crossed the street after getting off my first bus and started to walk the block it takes to get to the next bus, I found the 4 Montropolis bus zoom past my stop on its morning route. There were days where the bus ran late and it took me way to long to get home. Then I remembered, I looked around and remembered that for many people on the number 10 bus departing downtown at 4:30, this bus is their only way home. This bus is full of people in very different situations than me, such as:

• The mom who just picked-up her son from school; they are asleep on the bus because she works two jobs and he worries about her.
• The man who is blind because of untreated diabetes.
• The college graduate who moved to the Texas Hill Country because he needs medical care for his lung disease caused by his work
• The girl who worked an extra long shift at Chuckie Cheese’s

My weekend without a car is not full with as many stories, but it does provide a way for reality to remind me that I am fortunate to have my car. I adventured to a local coffee shop / community center for reading on the porch with Pamela, which turned into hanging out and talking with her. I now use a new bike route whenever I go up towards St. Edward’s University. I did take the bus to church on Sunday, which truly showed me the luxury of owning my car. I left my house at 10:05 for an 11:30 service and adventured from there. I stopped in downtown for about twenty minutes to catch my second bus, finding myself wondering where there might be facilities; I adventured into the very popular Starbucks. Listed on their bathroom door was a lovely sign stating that only customers can use the facilities and that a key must be requested from the cashier. I can understand the need for this – at the foundation of the sign, it keeps the “unwanted” out of the store and not brave enough to ask for the key because the line was brushing up against the door. However, my bus stop at one point was lined with people who couldn’t just run home because of either a lack of time or a lack of means to get there. Overall, my week without a car was eye-opening, but not too over board; just enough to realize a little tiny corner of what Catholic Charities’ clients experience. Would I do it again? Absolutely! Maybe for even longer this time. In many ways, the experience has challenged me to find a way to put a challenge like this into my life at least once a week, Sunday for example – I biked to St. Edward’s to meet Monica, one of our JVC support people, so we could watch the Rangers game together.  

The SHC table at the college fair.

I ended my seven-day adventure with driving to St. Michael’s Catholic Academy, which is hidden in the hills of West Austin. Over looking valleys of rock and beauty, this school was home to the private school portion of the Hills of Austin College Fairs. That’s right, one night, for about three and half hours I was able to represent Spring Hill College for high school students across Austin. I had so much fun. It was an interesting switch at the end of a week where I looked at people that for whom, in most cases, the bus was  the best means of transportation for them; to that evening looking at group of individuals whose job it is to travel the country representing their colleges. In some cases, this was the third fair of the day; for others it was their first. Either way, the experience lead me to be even more interested in becoming a college counselor, but one that bikes to work.