by Dawn Silvius
One sunny Saturday morning this past winter, I stopped by the bus station to deliver fresh lunches. There were six or eight migrant mothers and children there. Two IWC volunteers was explaining how their tickets worked and preparing them for the last stretch of their long journeys.
One of the volunteers told me that two of the mothers had just walked out of the bus station. “They are looking for a place to buy cigarettes. Can you catch up with them and guide them to Walgreens?”
“Sure!” I replied. I looked up the street and saw them right away. They had a little one, so they were walking slowly. I caught up, introduced myself, and ‘joined’ in the conversation as best I could with my extremely elementary Spanish. “We go left here…straight here….There it is.”
I was touched by the obvious friendship between the two mothers. Both were shepherding the youngster who was with them. Like any 5-year-old, he was a challenge to walk with, so they worked together. I wondered if, perhaps, they were from the same community and had been making this long journey together.
We got to the shop and asked for cigarettes but were declined. The mothers had not brought their detention center name tags. I had left my wallet in my car. No transaction without ID. No worries, we decided. We can return with IDs.
On the walk back, we chatted. I asked about their destination. We talked in simple phrases about that for a few minutes. They were headed to different places. I asked where they were from.
“Honduras,” said one mom.
And then the other mom said, “Romania.”
Romania! Speaking Spanish to say she was from Romania. At that moment, I caught a glimpse of the breadth of the gaps these moms were bridging; a friendship forged across language, culture, and practical gaps.
It made me think of Ruth and Naomi and of how many bridges—seen and unseen—are being built continually by the amazingly courageous people who migrate.
