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When Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, Louisiana, in 2005, I was 7 years old. My family’s home in rural Opelousas was, thankfully, unaffected, but a mass exodus took place of Louisianans forced to seek higher ground in other cities and states. My family met Ellis, a young person whose family had to flee their New Orleans neighborhood. How do you help someone who has endured great hardship and had to leave everything behind? The simple answer: accompaniment. We loved and cared for Ellis, praying with him in our parish and welcoming him to our family. His story of displacement shaped my understanding of community and responsibility to our brothers and sisters.
Now as an adult, I realize that migration has become a hot-button issue. Last March, as a Yale University student in Saint Thomas More’s campus ministry program, I joined a Maryknoll immersion trip to El Paso, Texas. This transformative experience disturbed my spirit and opened my eyes and heart even more.
On the trip, I learned about the Bracero program that until the 1960s recruited Mexican agricultural workers to enter the U.S. legally as farm laborers. They endured horrendous treatment at the border, undergoing kerosene baths, being sprayed with the poisonous gas Zyklon B and disinfected with DDT (a pesticide). Today, farmworkers continue to suffer injustices. At a center for agricultural workers in El Paso, we found out how workers picking buckets of chili peppers for long hours in high temperatures are paid low wages.
I listened to heart-wrenching and beautiful stories from people who live in El Paso, such as an elderly woman who was the sole resident left in her neighborhood, as others were driven out to make space for a building complex. I also met a young mural artist who beautifies the community while depicting the violence that migrants experience in ICE detention centers.
For me, the most impactful encounters occurred while volunteering at a shelter for migrants seeking asylum. Migrants who had been processed through ICE arrived at the shelter wearing blue sweatpants and sweatshirts. Most of their belongings had been confiscated, save for a plastic bag for holding a bit of money, cell phones and legal documentation. Each person was banded with a bracelet of identification numbers. My role was to welcome the migrants and provide toiletries. Although I don’t speak Spanish, compassion is a universal language. As the migrants moved down the line, picking up lotions, razors, and toothbrushes, I had the opportunity to cut off their no longer needed ICE bracelets. To me, this small act of kindness restored a bit of their humanity.
As Jesus broke bread with his disciples, sharing a meal with people initiates dialogue and greater understanding. I met a young mother, her husband and their 3-year-old son over dinner at the shelter. Another volunteer — and Google Translate — helped me communicate with them. The family had flown from Haiti to Central America, where they took buses through Mexico and then walked to the U.S. border. The mother told me she was excited to meet up with family in Miami. We held hands, told jokes and prayed. She had a lovely laugh and spoke three languages. Her joy, optimism and hope was remarkable and inspiring.
I often think about that family. Did they safely arrive in Miami? Were they able to win their asylum case? Were they deported to Haiti? It’s unlikely that I will ever find those answers, but I pray for them. And I talk about them and the border experience to my friends and family.
It’s easy to make assumptions about migrants, their reasons for coming to the United States, or their impact on our society. It is much more difficult to confront the reality of why people leave their land, homes and families. Migrants’ stories deserve to be told, and I gladly relate those stories. I encountered Christ in every migrant I met in El Paso.
Featured Image: April Pruitt (second from right) participated in a mission immersion program at the border
of the United States and Mexico led by the Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers last March.
(Courtesy of Ray Almanza/El Paso)
