My First Mission Trip To Nogales Mexico At eleven years old I remember being in our SUV with my parents and five sisters for about three hours, heading south through the hot Arizona desert and crossing the border between Arizona and Nogales, Mexico. We were going to visit an area called Tira Viche and help the people living there. This place is where all the trash from the city is disposed, and recycled by people. When I say, “recycled by people” I literally mean it. The people there, both young and old are among enormous piles of trash hand picking the paper, aluminum, and plastic materials. They do this to provide for themselves and their families. The amount they make from their work only allows them to buy the cheapest meals, wear the
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This is the part where many people who often want to help others skip, hearing out the out the person 's thoughts and stories is more meaningful than giving the person things. From what we learned these people had gone through a lot, some being victims of sexual abuse, becoming addicted to drugs or alcohol, or not wanting to return to their towns because of what others might say because of their failure to succeed in life. Whatever the case might have been they were all brought to this place they called home for some reason. They talked about how hard it was to work earning roughly about fifteen dollars a day, but it was enough for a simple meal everyday and a change of clothes for the year. Not all the nights were warm and easy to fall asleep nor all the days consisted of earning good money or good weather, but these people were happy. At least more happy than us living life in poverty. Facing the consequences of their many bad decisions they were happy. Hearing what they had to say about them and their lives helped us connect, because even though we couldn’t fully understand what they were going there. We had taken our time to plan a trip and visit them to get to know and them and they were simply alright with opening up their sleeves to
This is the part where many people who often want to help others skip, hearing out the out the person 's thoughts and stories is more meaningful than giving the person things. From what we learned these people had gone through a lot, some being victims of sexual abuse, becoming addicted to drugs or alcohol, or not wanting to return to their towns because of what others might say because of their failure to succeed in life. Whatever the case might have been they were all brought to this place they called home for some reason. They talked about how hard it was to work earning roughly about fifteen dollars a day, but it was enough for a simple meal everyday and a change of clothes for the year. Not all the nights were warm and easy to fall asleep nor all the days consisted of earning good money or good weather, but these people were happy. At least more happy than us living life in poverty. Facing the consequences of their many bad decisions they were happy. Hearing what they had to say about them and their lives helped us connect, because even though we couldn’t fully understand what they were going there. We had taken our time to plan a trip and visit them to get to know and them and they were simply alright with opening up their sleeves to