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2007 Mexico Mission Trip - St. Mark's
Episcopal Church
Photos by Kim Reed
2007 Mexico
Trip Reflections
(Each paragraph below was written by one of the St. Mark's youths
who participated in the trip.)
As Christians, we try to live by certain values and rules in
concordance with the example set by Jesus Christ. Among these
is the notion that “it is better to give than to receive.”
And while this particular policy may indeed apply to the exchange
of gifts among family and friends during the Christmas season,
my experience in Mexico has caused me to realize that it is
sometimes an oversimplification. Here we are, fifteen white
upper middle class suburbanites on a mission trip to a poor
village in Southeast Mexico. Our intention was to give of ourselves
and of the resources (money) into which we were born. As evident
through the pictures of the brand new, functional bread oven
(paid for by St. Mark’s) as well as the playground in
the plaza (paid for and assembled by us), we certainly did some
giving. However, what we didn’t plan for was how much
we were to receive from the people of San Marcos and Nigromante
themselves. For lunch each day, the women of the church made
us mountains of American-style sandwiches, lettuce rinsed with
bottled water in order to keep us healthy. As Lydia , Lizzie,
Jen and I walked down the street, we had a woman we’d
never met before call us into her home to rest in the shade
under her thatched roof. She fed us, and before we left, had
offered us two kittens and an adolescent chicken. On the way
back to the church, we laughed about having to explain “Thank
you anyway, but we will not be able to take livestock home on
the plane with us,” but mostly the four of us were so
moved by the incredible kindness we experienced. Everywhere
we turned, we were faced with this kind of humbling generosity.
I couldn’t put a number on how many times I was only able
to mumble “Muchas Gracias” as I accepted the generosity
of a people who comparatively have so little in a material sense.
I do know, however, that in the end, our receiving far outweighed
our giving. With each “Muchas Gracias” that came
out of my mouth, I realized that in a situation like this, saying
“Thank you” is much more difficult than saying “You’re
welcome.”
This experience really was wonderful for me. I loved working
on the swing set for the kids in the town because they didn’t
really have very much. I also played soccer, Frisbee, and baseball
with a bunch of kids in the town square in front of the church,
and that was fun. The trip really made me want to learn more
Spanish so when I go back next year I can communicate better
with the people I meet. They were all very nice to us. I thought
it was cool that we gave them our St. Mark’s T-shirts!
My experience in Nigromante this summer was one that I hope
will stay with me forever. As a result of our mission, I have
been able to better appreciate my everyday life, after seeing
things from such a different perspective. After such an eye
opening experience, I have been able to realize not only how
fortunate we are here in Glen Ellyn, but also how much we can
potentially help those in need. To those that a lot is given,
a lot is expected. We can help these people, as our church continues
to build our relationship with San Marcos , both perishes can
flourish in love and new experiences.
The people of Nigromante were by far the most resilient
and forward-moving people that I have ever met. In our culture,
it’s so easy and so acceptable to blame problems and misfortunes
on anyone or anything – but these people did none of that.
In spite of their hardships, the people pushed onwards, always
trying to improve whatever little they had. We saw old women
digging beer bottle caps and broken glass out of the dirt so
that there would be a clean place to put the playground. We
saw children shrug off almost being killed by a drunk driver
as of it were nothing. These were the strongest, the kindest,
the most generous, and the most accepting people I have ever
met.
I loved staying
at a family’s house to see how they live. Grant, my mom,
and I stayed with a family who had a nine-month-old baby named
Marco (after San Marcos church!) and we saw him take his first
steps! That was so exciting! The family had a bread oven and
a store attached to their house, they gave us drinks and ice
cream and even made us pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast
because they had heard that Americans liked them! I can’t
wait to stay with them again next year because they were so
nice! Grant , Lydia , and I also went with a lady from the church
when she sold the cookies from the bakery. That was a good way
to see the town and meet more people. I also liked playing with
all the kids.
When I went to Mexico this year I had a better
idea of what it was going to be like, but I am always surprised
by how warmly we are greeted and with such hospitality. Another
thing that I noticed when I went down this time is how different
we think about life. In Nigromante, it is so much more laid
back and so much calmer. It is okay not to be busy 24 hours
of the day; while in America , if you are not busy, you seem
like a slacker. I also noticed that when bad things happen
in Nigromante, it isn’t as bad as it would be in the
U.S. They seem so willing to forgive.
The trip to Mexico was more then just a mission
trip. It was a journey to find a relationship with the people
and the culture of Nigromante. When arriving in the small
town, some of us did not know what to expect. Others who had
gone on the trip last year already knew what was in front
of them; a community full of strong hospitality and an abundance
of caring. The people of Nigromante were extraordinary as
hosts, never letting anyone go unsatisfied. Playing Frisbee
with kids who I had just met felt like I was playing with
long time friends. I felt like I didn’t deserve all
of the hospitality. The people of Nigromante taught me to
care for others with everything I have and never leave any
guest unsatisfied. I only hope that I can return the favor
to them next year.
This is my second year
going on this Mexico trip. Last year, the word that seemed to
pop into my head as I retold our stories time after time, was
“humbling”. Even though this word still applied
to this trip, it seemed to pop into my head a little less frequently.
The new phrase that I seem to use in describing this trip is
“a hard goodbye”. This year it became so obvious
that we have made the first concrete steps in creating a long-term
relationship with the people of Nigromante. Once again, they
gave selflessly out of the little that they have, and it gives
them joy to do so. However, the thing that made this year so
different from last year, was that we started to make plans
with some of the families for next year. Some families were
absolutely adamant about us staying at THEIR homes next year.
This really touched me because it just shows how much we mean
to them, and it is a great feeling to be wanted like that. Saying
goodbye was hard this year. Even though I only met some of the
people 4 days earlier, I felt as though I had known them my
whole lives. To have people welcome you so much that it creates
that feeling is absolutely amazing, and perhaps the only more
amazing feeling, will be to say hello to those same people who
I was forced to say goodbye to, next year.
The word of the week was “humble.” The deference
and the honor that we were treated with would have seemed out
of place in the States. The Bishop came to meet us at the airport,
shook all of our hands, and welcomed us all personally, by name,
to his diocese. He and his wife went to Costco with us, to advise
us on what to buy; how much spaghetti we’d need to treat
the church of San Marco to lunch, what play set would be most
appropriate for the village. When we got to the village of Nigromante
, the people shot off fireworks for us, and one again each evening
that we stayed. We were accepted, albeit briefly, into their
community unquestioningly. We were welcomed into parishioner’s
homes, who gave up their beds and slept on the floor so that
we would be comfortable. The women of the church bought wheat
bread so that they could make us American-style sandwiches for
lunch, and bottled water to clean the vegetables we would eat,
so we wouldn’t have to worry about getting sick. They
slaughtered a pig one morning, in preparation for an upcoming
festival, and sat us as the guests of honor, eating first and
best. The last day characterized the whole trip: it was supposed
to be the day that the guests of the village gave back some
of what they had been given by serving the village a spaghetti
lunch. We arrived to find the pasta already made, and more besides
– some of the women had woken up at three in the morning
to make bread for us as well. The children of Nigromante adopted
us right away; they were always eager to throw a Frisbee at
anyone who didn’t seem to be otherwise occupied, and didn’t
seem troubled that communication with their new friends was
often limited to hand gestures and pointing. The whole community
made incredible allowances for our ignorance of the language,
of the culture, of their way of life. And it was the most humbling
week I have ever experienced in my life.
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