Day 49: Celebration

Two undocumented women who have been here for almost a month left this afternoon. We celebrated by making Honduran Sopa de mariscos for lunch on the hot plates in the room that serves as our kitchen. Both volunteers and guests came to eat and celebrate. 

The two women aren't related but found each other while riding trains through Mexico. One of the women saved the other's life by moving her out of the way of a train after her boyfriend somehow pushed her onto the track. 

They've only known each other for a few months, but they both told me it feels like a lifetime. 

Because of their citizenship status, it took them longer to make travel arrangements than normal guests. We were able to develop more of a relationship with them as a result—walking, talking, praying, and cleaning the shelter together. 

Both women are sensitive, strong, and bring a remarkable energy to the rooms they enter. They feel like stars in the sky—the things in their life are dark and difficult, but what's inside of them shines out. 

The soup we made this morning is commonly eaten by the Garifuna tribe in northeastern Honduras, which is where one of the women comes from. I copied down the grocery list she gave me yesterday morning, then had to go to four different stores in El Paso to find all the ingredients.

Sopa de mariscos

4 coconuts
1 lb shrimp 
3 lbs fish
1 lb squid
1 lb crab
2 bunches of yucca
4 unripe plátanos
4 ears of corn on the cob
shrimp broth (condimiento de camarón) 
Cumin
Peppers
Onion
Garlic 
Tomato
Rice

My extensive grocery shopping paid off. As over 20 guests and volunteers sat down to eat, it felt like for the first time in a while, we really had something to celebrate. (Not to mention the soup was a coconut seafood dream.) 

Because this shelter is more transactional and expedited than some others with Annunciation House, I love it when guests and volunteers have time to sit together and share a moment or a meal. This morning, we danced, cut coconuts, and peeled shrimp. It felt like a proper goodbye. 

We called a taxi for them (because driving undocumented people is aiding and abetting) and prayed together while we waited. Everyone cried. 

As the taxi drove away, a few of us ran behind it, waving and blowing kisses. 

(Prayer together.) 


(La sopa.) 


(Dishing out bowls.) 


(The final goodbye.) 

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