Another bus, another trip.
Thank goodness the destinations always changed or this would’ve been really boring :)
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| View of a snow-capped mountain from our bus window |
We had only just begun our 14 hour overnight ride to the
capital when the bus slowed and came to an unexpected stop. It was dark out, I remember, because the bus
driver suddenly turned on the overhead lights, momentarily blinding us. I squinted, looking at the front of the bus
to see what was up. Two police officers
came on board—it was merely a drug checkpoint after all. Rachel and I quickly got out our American
passports, those little blue flags of unrestricted traveling freedom that we so
take for granted. The officers walked
down the aisle, checking documents and asking a few questions. We were barely given a second glance. And then they made an announcement, quick and
short, saying everything looked fine.
And then as they left, they motioned for three bus passengers to follow
along behind them. The three men quietly
gathered their belongings and obediently followed, no questions asked. We then continued on.
I have no solid explanation for why those men were
detained. We weren’t told. The other passengers around us were also
surprised, though they offered us no explanation either. We continued on, pretending as if it didn’t
happen. The only theory Rachel and I
came up with was that they were Central Americans illegally traveling north
through Mexico. They had no papers to
prove their right to be there. And so
they were taken.
We here in the states have our prejudices against those who
illegally immigrate from the south. In
our minds, we categorize them mainly as Mexicans. Well, guess what? The Mexicans also have their own prejudices
about illegal immigrants from countries south of their border. Ironic, isn’t it?
While Rachel and I were in the City, we stumbled upon an
awareness campaign for Mexico’s illegal immigrants. For those whose voices have been lost or
covered up in the Mexican justice system. For those who have gone unnoticed, forgotten,
silenced. The campaign sought to give
them a voice and to shed light on the many various reasons they leave their
home countries. Pictures and stories covered
city walls, giving a living human face to this “faceless” problem. It truly was a sight to see.
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| Playing the guitar with an Armonia scholarship student |
While in Mexico City, Rachel and I had the privilege to stay
in a community home owned by the organization Armonía (http://armoniaus.wordpress.com/armonia-ministries-in-mexico/). Armonía is an organization deeply involved in
the community with a heavy emphasis on education. They have schools and scholarship programs
set up mainly for people of indigenous roots to attend school and eventually
college. With this scholarship program,
Armonía is hoping to provide an education to a population heavy at risk for
immigration to the north—they really want to keep their people in their own
country. Immigration is not an
acceptable solution for them.
The house we stayed in was a frat house of sorts where
scholarship students could stay while attending the universities downtown. There were 15 college students there in all,
all of them coming from small indigenous pueblos
in Southern Mexico near Oaxaca. Our
conversations were so exciting since they were spoken in both of our second
languages (Rachel and I are English speakers and the others grew up speaking a
variety of indigenous languages). It truly
was a joy just to be with them—play guitar together, decorate the Christmas
tree, cook meals, chat, have devotions together. I swear, I just can’t get used to this kind
of hospitality!
And I could talk forever about our time there. Stay tuned as I talk more about our time in the
City!
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