Next stop: Tapachula --Casa Belen and Padre Flor

We took a flight to Chiapas from Mexico City on Friday and were greeted by Julio, our driver and our new favorite person. He drove us to Tapachula, a city near the border between Guatemala and Mexico. Upon entering the city, we were approached by a young man missing both forearms. He approached our group with a donation bag, which held with his elbows. Julio said that he had most definitely lost his arms to the trains that many migrants catch to make their way through Mexico. (Each time we visited the city, we saw many people with missing limbs, asking for money.) That first day, we went shopping for food to bring to the migrant shelter called Casa Belen where we would stay for two nights. Riley went to find water jugs and met us back at the van, arriving in style in the passenger seat of a huge semi truck full of water jugs. It was a big day for Riley.

When we arrived to Casa Belen, we were greeted by Padre Flor, the founder of Casa Belen and a Scalabrini priest who has received international recognition for his human rights work. Padre Flor is a small, barefoot, Italian man with a huge personality. His wears a long white robe and has a long white beard. He wears a large cross tucked into his belt (which someone once said is like a weapon in its holster). During our stay we had two long talks with Padre Flor in which he described his history, the history of immigration, and what sustains him in this difficult line of work. He told us many stories of the people he sees come through the shelter and says that people are forced to make up reasons to have faith and to persevere. During mass, he reminded everyone that their dignity as human beings is not determined by documents. Several migrants took communion, and as Miriam put it, it was very moving to see people take communion as if
to carry with them not only Jesus but also beauty and comfort on their long journey.

We ate meals with the migrants and if I could, I would retell the names and stories of everyone we met. Instead I’ll introduce Antonio, a young guy from El Salvador who had started his journey the day before we sat down with him at dinner. Throughout dinner he would look away, and I noticed his eyes welling up with tears. When the rest of the men left the table, he told us how much he hated to eat because he could not help but think of his 2 kids who wake up not knowing if they will eat that day. He has a 10 year old and a 9 year old who has
Downs Syndrome. He told us how nice it was to eat with us and thanked us for being kind. For Jessye, it was painful to know that he believed in the kindness of others and that such a sacred faith in humanity would probably not survive his journey to the States.

At night, we slept in rooms designated for human trafficking victims in bunk beds donated by USAID. It was strange to sleep in the beds where other women our age had fallen asleep with vastly different thoughts, realities, and nightmares that we could never understand. While moving into the shelter for 2 days and living with migrants has given us new insight that books and articles never could, we all know there is still much to learn and much to see before we can begin to understand the struggle to live that men and women face as transborder migrants.