Breaking Bread with Aldefa, a guest post by Annalise Deal

Today we feature a reflection post by Annalise Deal, a sophomore at Boston College studying Theology and English, whose passion for learning Spanish and discovering Latin American culture inspired her to participate in Boston College's Arrupe program. Thank you, Annalise, for your sharing your experience with us! 

Breaking Bread with Aldefa 

By Annalise Deal

This month, I was fortunate enough to be one of the 150 Boston College students who travelled to Latin America through the Arrupe International Immersion Program. My group of fifteen and I travelled to Puebla, Mexico to participate in a week of service and various immersive activities. We met a lot of people and gathered countless impactful stories along the way, but the story that has stuck with me the most was that of my host mother, Adelfa. For two nights, myself and two other girls stayed with her in her home in the village of Tecuanipan, outside of Puebla city. This is her story. 

Born into a family of nine children Adelfa and many of her siblings have struggled with chronic heart failure since they were young. Due to a lack of affordable health care, they have been unable to receive formal treatment. So despite an effort to change their diets, at age 50, she has already lost three of her siblings, and one is currently not doing well. Also due to their poverty growing up, she never finished elementary school because her parents could not afford uniforms or transportation to get her there. She recently finished elementary and middle school at the adult night school in Tecuanipan center. This year, she took a painting class there, and next semester she plans to take basket weaving. 

She and her husband Aceuencio have two sons: Edgar and Ivan. Before having Ivan, they lost their first baby, likely because of inadequate neonatal care. Their second son, Ivan, was born with multiple brain tumors, which were removed right after he was born. However, as Adelfa said, “su cabeza no funciona” (“his head doesn’t work”) so he was never able to go to school. Now he has a job in Cholula and seems to be doing alright. Their third son, Edgar, migrated to the U.S. six years ago, when he was only 20. He currently lives in Brooklyn and works as a line cook. Adelfa hasn’t seen him since he left, and when I asked if she has ever considered visiting him she clapped and said “que deportarme así!” (“they would deport me just like that!”) She then tried to convince one of us to move to Brooklyn to find her son and marry him, so that she could have grandchildren and a daughter-in-law who would be willing to move back to Mexico. 

Now, Adelfa lives a quiet life with her husband, son, and nephew, in a simple house with a dirt courtyard and a detached kitchen. The have a mule, a horse, countless bunnies and chickens, four adorable dogs, two cats and some doves. Despite all of the tragedy they have gone through as a family Adelfa clings to her Christian faith. Every time we tried to say “gracias,” she would respond, “No, gracias a Dios” (thanks to God). She prays often, loves her bible, and is guided in everything she does by the promise of eternal life which she believes awaits her. Her strength and resilience to come through such a troubled life, and still be so full of joy and constantly cracking jokes was remarkable. 

Before we left, our head coordinator Margaret often reminded us of the word “acompañarse” which means to accompany; it is the essence of solidarity. That word is made up of the Spanish words “con pan” or, “with bread,” which comes from the story of the Last Supper. Jesus, in his life and ministry, often showed the power of sharing bread, and this trip really brought that idea to life for me. It is one thing to know what poverty is, or have an intellectual understanding of the immigration crisis. It is a different thing entirely to sit at a small plastic table late at night, laughing together, drinking warm milk and eating fresh, bright pink pan dulce. 

I will carry Adelfa’s story with me as I move forward in my college career and beyond, attempting to make some difference in the world. I will remember how she broke bread with us, and in doing so, formed an emotional and spiritual bond that transcends geographic distance. Although our week in Tecuanipan did not reverse the seemingly insurmountable problems the people there face, sharing meals with them reminded us of the value and power of community, which knows no borders.

Cafe Justo: a small coffee cooperative seeking global change

Through a Boston College program called Arrupe, I went on an immersion trip to Chiapas, Mexico, over Christmas break, a trip filled with intense learning and discovery. Our short week in Mexico gave us a window into a vibrant, beautiful culture, rich in history and tradition. We also learned of the many, many injustices pertaining to immigration, politics, and foreign relations. Our Arrupe group paired with Borderlinks, an organization that promotes awareness and seeks to educate others about the realities of immigration. We had the blessing and honor to hear from the residents of Chiapas- we were welcomed with abrazos abiertos (open arms), and we are grateful to have been touched, pierced, and inspired by the people we met through honest conversation.

We spent the last few days of our trip in a small town called Salvador Urbina, a pueblo known for its coffee cooperative, Café Justo, which seeks to address the economic push factors of immigration by providing fair wages to its laborers. This cooperative eliminates the many "middle men" that play a role in the coffee production. This therefor reduces any unfair wages or scamming, as the profits from the coffee go directly to the workers. The business is entirely owned by the growers in Salvador Urbina, and the coffee is exported to the United States, and even European countries, as our host families proudly informed us. 

Café Justo, though seemingly a small cooperative, is, in reality, an essential agent in attacking the root causes of immigration by asking the fundamental question: Why are people willing to leave their home countries, risk their lives, and leave behind their families and communities? The most prevalent answers are: political turmoil, which creates instability and life threatening situations (such as the current state of El Salvador), and economic instability, which creates and perpetuates unfair wages, thus creating an absolute need to leave to find work. Child labor, drug trafficking, human trafficking, assault, and lack of education are sadly only a few of the complicated issues that stem from mass immigration- from people forced to leave their homes because their communities, once safe havens, have become unlivable. In Salvador Urbina, Café Justo is challenging this economic instability by providing income for  42 + families, and by inspiring the youth to stay in school: it gives them hope that they, too, will be able to work for fair pay and provide for their families some day, and be able to take pride in working in their own community. 

A long-time employee and "associate" of Cafe Justo hauls a bag of coffee beans. 

Genaro plants coffee! 

Pursuing Your Vocation

Victor E. Frankl, a neurologist, psychologist, Holocaust survivor and author of Man's Search for Meaning, declares that "Everyone has his own specific vocation or mission in life; everyone must carry out a concrete assignment that demands fulfillment. Then he cannot be replaced, nor can his life be repeated; thus, everyone's task is unique as his specific opportunity to implement it." This message affirms the value, dignity, and importance of the individual, emphasizing that each person has their own personal and distinct role to play in the world. This quote beckons us to boldly and courageously pursue our calling.

As a college student surrounded by highly motivated and talented peers, I feel the constant pressure  to secure for myself a stable, sensible, profitable career, which can lead to my own disregard of my true desires and talents, and instead prioritizing financial affluence. While striving for a career that brings financial stability isn't a negative aspiration by any means, I believe there are a few more important things to first consider.

Before this semester began, I participated in a retreat rooted in the idea of taking a step back to reevaluate your actions and choices, specifically focusing on the theme of vocation. During this retreat, we discussed the discernment question of Fr. Michael Himes, a Professor of Theology at Boston College. He poses three central questions for discerning one's vocation:

1. Is this a source of joy? 
2. Is this something that taps into your talents and gifts- does it engage all of your abilities and use them in the fullest way possible? 
3. Is this role a genuine service to the people around you- to society at large? 

Focusing on these questions helped me be brutally honest with myself. What brings me happiness? What am I actually good at? (Not what I wish I was good at- but what are my true talents?) And lastly, what does the world need me to do? 

I think vocation discernment is often undermined in the lives of many young people. Vocation discernment doesn't just pertain to those considering a religious vocation, but to each and every individual. And it's important for us to remember, and to be reminded, that there are thousands of career options out there, and that society desperately needs what each of us has to offer. Moreover, each profession carries with it an opportunity and duty to do good and be fully rooted in love. I believe that it is our two-fold duty and delight, as humans, to uncover our talent, and discover our place in this always-moving, imperfect yet wondrous world. Choosing to joyfully live out our vocation- to employ our talents in tandem with others' talents in order to add just a tad more light to the world- this is our mission, as individuals and as a community. What we really need- in all professions- is people dedicated to people. 

Furthermore, it's our responsibility to help others discover their own vocations- and this mission is at the core of Starfish. I stand behind this objective, as I think that discerning one's vocation is central to being human. Enabling students to discover their own talents and vocations provides them with confidence, and helps them recognize their own dignity. As the Dalai Lama proclaims, "With the realization of one's own potential and self-confidence in one's ability, one can build a better world." 

 In whatever way we use our talents, I believe it's important to remind ourselves that our first and foremost calling, as humans, is to open our eyes, to be fully present, and to live in solidarity with others: to acknowledge those around us as fellow brothers and sisters, realizing that each individual before us has a set of goals, hopes, and desires as complex and unique as our own. As soon as we do this- recognize the humanity of ourselves, and others- then we are able to be fully alive and choose to allow our lives to be governed by agape- a love that seeks nothing in return. 

How do you live out our vocation? What does it mean to use your talents and time to live in solidarity and kinship with others? 

"What is it you plan to do with this one wild and precious life?" 

~Mary Oliver~ 

Guest Blogger: Danit Lieberman

Danit Lieberman, a sophomore studying business at Boston College, reflects about her experience this past summer, when she served at an orphanage in Argentina. Danit grew up in Mexico City until she was 11 years old, and now she and her family live in Denver, CO. Danit is bilingual, and her passion for mastering languages continues in her university studies, as she is minoring in Chinese. Thank you, Danit, for your honest and raw reflection about service, different realities, and gratitude.

During my time in Argentina, I was simultaneously haunted and comforted by the thought, “I have the luxury to return home.” I have the luxury to return to a clean, spacious house. The luxury to return to my family. Not a perfect family, certainly not, but a family who gives me personal attention and love. What I leave behind is a world with few “Me” and “I.”

This summer I volunteered at an orphanage in Cordoba, Argentina called Hogar Bethel. While reflecting about my experience, I realized that the kids were always clustered into groups; “These are the Hogar kids,” “these are the older girls,” “these are the babies,” “these are these siblings.” They are seen as part of a group identity, but they are rarely recognized for their individual identity. Yes, they each have a name, a personality, an attitude. But they share many of the luxuries I’ve had to myself.

They share a shower, which immediately takes away any sense of privacy. They share clothes: school clothes, weekend clothes…No one child has his or her own clothes, the clothes are the Hogar’s and they alternate in who wears what. They share rooms, toys, food. One other precious thing that they are forced to share is their time, their lives.  At home I spend time alone, I have the option to read quietly in my room or watch TV with my family. I can choose to hang out with friends, or I can choose to be alone. I have the choice.

At the Hogar the kids don’t have choice. They are always together. Always with the same people, who in many cases don’t treat them right. They share all of their time. They wake up next to each other, shower next to each other, eat next to each other, and go to bed next to each other. There is never any independence.  Never any healthy solitude. Their lives are all intertwined together under the roof of the Hogar.

I lived in the Hogar for one challenging month. I struggled with the lack of privacy, the lack of structure and direction, and the lack of attention to the kids. I slept in a room without a door, so everyday the kids came in and woke me up. I had to keep my belongings in a separate room with a door so the kids wouldn’t steal my things (because they would if they had the opportunity).  During that month, I longed for my private room at home. I craved my alone time that I take for granted. And I realized that I have the luxury to return to that. But at the same time, I felt guilty for needing that and wanting it.

For me, my experience at the orphanage was temporary. I voluntarily lived there for a limited time. However, these kids are taken there involuntarily and for an indefinite amount of time. This thought humbled me. These “commodities” that I take for granted every day, are unimaginable luxuries for these kids.

My experience in Argentina was hard. I missed home and I wasn’t peaceful in the Hogar. My days had no structure and I couldn’t find the means to have a bigger impact on the children. But as hard as it was, the hardest part was leaving the beautiful children and returning to my luxurious life.

Service trips wake us up to realities outside our experience. They make us be more aware of the struggles people face around the world, and the drastically different lifestyles that people lead. But these trips also open our eyes to the many blessings we have in our lives. So no matter what challenge we are facing right now, we know we are blessed with a life of luxury, and we need to remember to be grateful for that.

Are you interested in an experience that wakes you up to a new reality?  We are looking for volunteers in Ecuador!  If you are interested in volunteering, contact us at info@thestarfishchange.org  If you are interested in joining us for a shorter period of time as part of our annual Friends of Starfish trip, please fill out this survey!