An Outsider's Perspective - Tochan: Nuestra Casa

     This blog post is by my friend and fellow YAGM, Rachel Birkedal.  She came to visit us a couple weeks ago at Tochan to meet my friends - the migrants, and to see what a typical day is like in the life of a Tochaner.  She wrote this blog post about her experience, and I think it gives a perspective on what I experience every day.  So read it, enjoy it, and share it if you'd like!

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Haz clic aquí para español.

     Over Christmas break I had the opportunity to spend a few days in Mexico City with a couple of my fellow YAGMs and see their worksites. On Thursday I went with Rachel (Yes, please don’t get confused during this blog, she is also Rachel or Raquel, which is Spanish means she is my tocaya) to Tochan which is un albergue para los migrantes. I’m too used to saying that it Spanish! Ok, in English... She works at a migrant shelter. The majority of the migrants at Tochan come from Central America countries. Tochan aims to provide a safe place to stay and live together in community while the migrants figure out next steps for their goals. The word “Tochan” is Nauhatl for "our home," which is what the shelter aims to be, at least temporarily, for these people. Rachel often talks about the people she is blessed to work with and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet them in person.

Part of the new mural that is going up in Tochan that has been a collaborative project between volunteers and tochaneros. It is designed off of the descriptions from migrants about what the journey looks like. The wagons each have a flag representing a country from which Tochan has received a migrant, and the dove that starts the passage (not shown) is the symbol of Tochan.

     After walking up the steep stairs (everywhere I go with Rachel seems to involve a trip that leaves me out of breath at the end!) and entering Tochan, we were greeted by each person currently in the kitchen and living room. Handshake, kiss on the cheek, hug, “mucho gusto” (nice to meet you) and often a “She’s Raquel too?!” We walked in the kitchen and they had graciously left two plates on the table for our breakfast (sardines & beans!) and coffee was brewing in the pot. After eating and sitting down we were invited by a group of the residents to take a trip with them to one of the parks and the free local zoo. Traveling in the metro with 4 Hispanic men rather than my normal group of foreigners (YAGMs) made me feel much more comfortable and “blended in,” even though as we loudly chatted away in Spanish you could hear the Honduran accent easily giving away that we weren’t actually “from here.”

Part of our excursion group at the entrance to the park Chapultepec

Part of our excursion group at the entrance to the park Chapultepec

     When we got to the zoo it became apparent that (as my roommate recently wrote in her blog while in France) you just never outgrow those middle school years. These Honduran men (between the ages of 24 and 45) were running around snapping crazy pictures of animals, playing practical jokes on each other, climbing rocks, singing a Lion King song for every animal we encountered and just plain having a good time!

I turn around and they are all like this...

Turns out they had found a secret way to see the gorillas! :)

     Later when we returned to the shelter we were once again graciously provided lunch that had been cooked by the other residents. This time it was chicken soup... perfect for a cold day in which rain had started to fall on our return trip! The rest of the afternoon was filled with watching Rachel (my friend... not me!) lose at damas or checkers. Then she complained that their rules were not the same (which they aren’t!), but eventually she won (once) against the best player in the house to which he cried “No puede ser” – “It can’t be!” After damas was Mundo turismo which is a “world” version of Monopoly... needless to say... I lost. By this point it was already an hour past the time when Rachel normally leaves, so, as they all sat down for supper, we headed out to start the hour/hour and a half journey back to Rachel’s house. We individually said goodbye to all and then shivered our way back to the bus. It was a cold night!

Rachel losing at checkers 

She won! "It can't be!"

     It was a very fun and eventful day. I got some practice on listening to the various Central American accents and several games I haven’t played in years. Being in the house with 14 residents and a couple volunteers made me feel like I was on vacation with my family. Yet amid all the fun and laughter it could have been easy, and a shame, for me to forget the stories of these men and women. Stories that caused Rachel to shed a few tears on our way back home as we talked. Stories of hurt, violence and fear, but also of strength and courage. Stories of:

• Men who don’t normally leave the house for fear of being caught by gangs that once attacked them on their journey... And yet these men allowed me to share in their bravery as they left the house to visit the zoo.

• A young man about my age, who was kidnapped, almost killed and forced to flee... An incident that will forever change his life and force him to file for refugee status in Mexico, even though he was once a happy carefree college student living in Honduras. 

• Migrants who had to ride La bestia to leave their homes and travel to an unknown land.
• “La bestia” is translated as “The beast,” and rightfully so. Many migrants jump on the train that travels north through Mexico, but it doesn’t come without price. Rachel now has a fear of trains after harboring the stories that these migrants have shared with her. Stories of jumping off moving trains, of being attacked by gangs, of losing limbs, of being beaten by officials; La Bestia is truly a Beast.

     These men and women who in their time at Tochan have become Rachel’s best friends are some of the most fun and interesting people I have met. They are all different, with their own interests, music styles, hopes and dreams. But what they all have in common is that they are migrants in a foreign land. Not unlike myself as I have traveled across state borders and now across country borders, but unlike me, they are fleeing a home they love, but that in many cases has forced them to leave. The majority of them dream of returning (I can’t count how many times I heard “In Honduras...”), but they can’t for various reasons. They are praying for a day when their individual situations or the situation within their country will change and they can return to the land that saw them crecer - grow up.

This painting (by YAGM Rachel) hangs in the living room,it includes the seals of various Central American countries and reads "We are all migrants and all migrants deserve everything they desire."

     I am very blessed to have had this experience that allowed me see into a little bit of Rachel’s experience here in Mexico. As a YAGM Mexico group we are able to not just live our individual experiences but also to share in the stories that our fellow YAGMs share with the group. Rachel is a “Solidarity Sister” at Tochan... That’s the name our coordinator gave her. This means she is blessed with the burden of living with and sharing in the stories of these migrants. I ask that you pray for these migrants who are far from their homes and I ask that you pray for Rachel as she struggles with all she is learning from them.

     If you would like to hear more from Rachel, visit her blog at http://racheltheyagm.blogspot.com/

“Hold these stories with care. There are many people who will benefit from the stories they hear during our time together. Imagine listening to another as you would listen to scripture -- attentively, mindfully, and open to the holy.” - Covenant of Presence

(re-posted with permission from Rachel Birkedal's blog)

“La oscuridad se vuelve a luz.” The darkness becomes light.

Disclaimer:  This story also appeared in my Newsletter on Nov. 1st 2013.

If you read that and are reading this, it will be repetitive, but maybe it will speak to you differently this time.  If you haven't read it yet, enjoy!

Pedro, showing off his new hat and shades.

     Pedro is 23 years old, Honduran, a soccer aficionado, and one of my best friends at Tochan.  Every day when I arrive at work, he greets me with his huge smile and an enthusiastic “Buenos días, Raquel!”  Beyond being exceedingly friendly and patient, he has shown me the power of the human spirit.

     On May 5^th, 2012, Pedro left Honduras (intending to get to the United States) due to economic difficulty and social violence.  However, Pedro’s Honduran pride is unmistakably evident. He talks about how much he misses the abundant flora and fauna, rivers, oceans and beaches, ancient ruins, the streets of his barrio, his soccer field and school, and, most of all his friends and family.  Pedro told me, and I have come to observe, “Hondurans are chatty, open; they share everything – ideas, life.  We want to make our society better.  I miss that.”

     After leaving his hometown, Pedro crossed the majority of Honduras, paid to enter Guatemala, crossed all of Guatemala in combis (little vans that act as uncomfortable buses), and took a 6-hour boat ride into Mexico where he met up with friends who were also migrating north.  When they got to Tabasco, the group jumped on the freight train known as “La Bestia” – The Beast.  La Bestia is one of the few ways that poor Central Americans can afford to migrate north, by climbing onto and jumping off of the fast-moving cars.

     On May 17^th at midnight Pedro attempted to board La Bestia, but slipped, fell, and hit his head, losing consciousness.  When he came to, he tried to stand, but couldn't.  Confused, he reached down his leg and felt blood, and bone.  He had lost his left leg to the tracks.  Thousands of people are mutilated and even die from similar incidents every year.

     Fortunately for Pedro, someone heard him cry out before he passed out again and called the Red Cross, who took him to a hospital where they finalized the amputation.  At first he was in a state of total despair.  Losing his leg at 22 was the last thing he thought might happen to him, and the very last thing he wanted.  Every once in a while he was reminded of things that he would never be able to do again, like when he unpacked his cleats and realized he might never play soccer again.  His physical recovery went quickly, but psychologically it took several months for Pedro to regain his optimism, cheeriness, and faith.

Setting up Tochan's Día de los Muertos ofrenda
and testing out his new prosthesis.

     After leaving the hospital, Pedro was taken to a federal Migration Station where he stayed for a few weeks and petitioned for his Mexican residency.  In April, Pedro came to Tochan, and he is now the resident who has spent the most time with us.  Since his accident, Pedro has become an unlikely beacon of hope in the house.  He often acts as an unofficial counselor to the other residents, offering advice and comfort when they are at their lowest points.

     During one of our many post-lunch coffee conversations, we were talking about his accident and he summarized it by saying, “La oscuridad se vuelve a luz.” – The darkness becomes light.  I can’t think of a better way of describing what has happened to Pedro and how he has handled it.  Although I would never wish him to go through what he has endured, the way he conceptualizes his situation is more than inspiring.   

   “No tengo pierna, pues si tengo pierna porque Dios camina por mí.” – I don’t have a leg, well yes I do have a leg, because God walks for me.

God may walk for Pedro, but I believe that God walks in Pedro as well.

Source

*Update:  Pedro has now left Tochan and been able to start renting his own place - right next door!