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 Student Chiropractic Doctor "I'd like to take a moment to thank you for being with my sister and I on our first trip together outside the U.S.A. I enjoyed our conversations and my time in Tijuana was very educational. It was truly an eye opening experience for me. It was also great to see that Catholic priests are normal human beings with a zest for life like the rest of us. I am truly grateful for your effort and commitment to the program, which allowed me both mental and spiritual growth. I wish you the best in all your endeavors." — Mark Algee Faces Over the Fence My mother is a young woman of eighteen with two children, who lives in a shanty house in a landfill of human waste. My father is a man who was once an engineer, but now has to work as a janitor at sixty dollars a week to make ends meet. My grandfather tells me his story of deportation back to the “other side” after working as a teacher for over tens years in the States. My grandmother is the homeless women who attends mass every day to thank God for everything He has given her; her round, dark eyes mirror the pains of a suffering soul. My brother is a smooth faced boy of seventeen, who has not seen his family in years, but hopes to make it safely across the border tonight to make a better life for them. My sister is the four-year-old child unaware of her impoverished life, who clung to my neck and laughed as we wash dishes in a homeless shelter. My friend is the young girl, no older than fifteen, with her back against the wall; she must sell her body to strangers to earn enough to eat. These are the members of my family in Mexico. These are the tragedies they face. These are their sufferings. These are their burdens. Why? Because they were born on the other side of the fence. — Sheena Raab ’04 A Land of Opportunity  Before my experience in Mexico I was completely unaware of how bad some human beings live. We, in Thousand Oaks, may have goals of going to college and becoming successful athletes or whatever, but these people don’t… their goal in life is to survive and if they are lucky they might be able to cross the border into the “land of opportunity.” When going to Mexico I was really able to put a human face to the economic problems of third world countries. I never knew before how many people live in poverty… and not just poverty. Many Mexican factory workers live on old dumps, breathing in bad chemicals, not getting good nutrition, medication or anything… They live on wages that are smaller than many of our allowances.Getting to know some of these factory workers and talking to them really gave me a picture of how terrible their lives are. They have wonderful personalities and beautiful faces but they are unable to live their highest potential because they are stuck in a cycle of poverty. I have really come to learn the importance of my community service and help to other people. Even though it may seem like one person cannot change the world, that is definitely not true… any little bit helps… even a smile. — Stephanie Carr ’04 Tijuana The trip to Tijuana is one that I will never forget. I had never thought about some of the topics we discussed and saw with my own eyes in Mexico. One day we went to an orphanage and played with the children. They were all so adorable and it saddened me to realize that they had no family. Immigration to America from Mexico is something many Mexicans want and are unable to attain, and I had never realized how America really is the land of opportunities for so many people. I wish for the best for all the migrants and I hope I can make another trip to Tijuana. — Sharmita Samanta ’05 Crossing Borders 23...47...19...32....I saw these numbers painted on crosses fly past as we drove by the wall that separates Mexico and California. 43...18...27..35... Each cross mounted on the wall hung as a memorial for a person that had died attempting to cross the border, lives that had been ended at age 40...28...39...20. Our van began to slow 33.......22......48..... and came to a stop....at 16. That number hit me hard—16 I thought. I am 16. What a simple realization, and yet it held such depths of meaning for me at the same time. Try as I might, I could not imagine spending my final moments of life in crossing-- what is in essence-- an imaginary line between countries. It began to enrage me....an imaginary line that means life for so many and death for many others. I have plans to live, surely the person who died at 16 had them too! It all seemed very unfair...I knew none of the stories behind the crosses and yet it seemed to me that none should have to be there at all. — Meghan Meros To read Megans’ letter in its entirety click here. ______________________ Tijuana, December 2002 Hello, my name is Karimn Chehade. I was born on September 9,1985, in a small town on the outskirts of Beirut, Lebanon. A civil war had already started in 1975. It got so bad that it forced my family and me to move to the United States when I was only three years old. Since then, I've lived in Los Angeles. I have been given a good education all my life. I was never the top student but I did pretty well. Now I am waiting for my acceptances for college. I've already made it to a couple good ones so I'm content about that. I have always believed in God, who is a great part of my life. Of course I've had conflicts with and doubts about Him but almost every person does at some point in their lives. I have the frame of mind of a liberal person whose mission is to do something positive for others. I have been to so many countries and met so many people in life but until recently I felt that I didn't know the real world. I consider myself very lucky. I got to a private school, have a fast and fun car, I live in a nice neighborhood and I have many good friends. One of the questions that I have been struggling with for a large part of my life is, "Why am I so lucky?" Why did God pick me to have so much. The answer to this question was finally answered in December of 2002. I was given a chance by the Archdiocese of Los Angeles (and the Focolare) to see the effects of globalization in the city of Tijuana, Mexico, first hand. It was there that I truly got to see the so called, "real world." — Karim Chehade, 15 To read Karims’ letter in its entirety click here. ______________ Response to Crossing Borders Trip When I think back on this week a full range of emotions invades my heart. I’d like to thank you for that. Thank you for the highs and the lows. This experience has been the first step in another big change for me, and I thank you. Every day I have written in my journal. Here is some of it. Sunday: The group talks of “it takes just one person to make a difference;” how come a whole group feels so helpless? Why do I hear these words and feel lack of motivation, lack of energy, lack of willingness? Why do I hear complaints? Blame has gotten us nowhere. Examine yourself. Monday: “The dump” doesn’t seem to produce much more than dump. The children born into these families raise their children in this horrible atmosphere. Why do I have so much? Why does their air pierce my lungs? Why do complaints ever enter my mind? And why do they escape my lips? Pleasure is lost in awareness. Tuesday: The food exercise didn’t go as planned. $5 to feed a family of five; I spend more than that on one meal for myself. How can I ever complain. Wednesday: I can’t help but cry about my place in the world. I am fortunate enough to have awareness, but my fortune has also given me a lack of drive. Will I be another drone of society? Every time I take a shortcut, every time I screw up in class, every time I slack on my responsibilties, I slap a less fortunate soul in the face. My thoughts are scattered. I am young and confused. I am overwhelmed by the world around me. I need a second. I need a break. I need time away from time. I need the world around me to make sense, but it never will. In the meantime my head and heart will hurt at the chaos. And for this moment I will cry. Cry for my fortune. Cry at the lack of fortune in others. Cry for chaos. And cry because at this moment life is beautiful. These were just some segments of thoughts. Thoughts you have given me. — Daniela, 18 |
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