The Skyline View

Date created: 4/18/05 Section: FEATURES

The week after Spring Break, I volunteered at an orphanage in Tecate, Mexico. The trip was organized with Alma Heights Christian Academy, a local private high school in Pacifica. In total, 30 students and five adult leaders, including myself, went down.

Steve and Kathy Horner, an American couple who felt a calling to minister to the orphans in Mexico, established the orphanage, Rancho De Sus Niños, in 1987. Currently, the orphanage has almost 50 orphans and has also established a daycare for kids in the community, a youth center, a Bible college, and 19 churches in the surrounding area. A third of the kids brought to Rancho are true orphans. The others come from families whose mothers are unable to take care of them because of mental problems, alcohol or drug addiction.

This was my second time volunteering at Rancho, and I had a great time. Our days there consisted of work projects in the morning and more humanitarian type events in the afternoon.

Wednesday, March 30, 6:03 a.m.
We woke up before everyone else and stole out of the bunkroom. The brisk air met us outside the door and the call of a rooster echoed through our ears. The sun rose on the Mexican horizon, bathing the grounds of the orphanage in orange. We walked down the dirt road, passing some spotted cows, through a tunnel under the local highway. There, we climbed a tall hill and had, for miles, an amazing view of the surrounding area highlighted by the rays of the morning sun. We sat by a small cross and, after sharing some Bible verses, surveyed the orphanage below us.

Wednesday, March 30, 9:26 a.m.
"You need three wheelbarrows of sand, two bags of concrete, two wheelbarrows of gravel and at least five buckets of water," said Daniel, the oldest orphan at Rancho, pointing to the large sand pile a few yards behind us.
In the reflection of his shades, I could soon see the sand flying through the air and filling the wheelbarrows. My group received our sand and proceeded to mix the cement into it with our shovels.
After our pile was thoroughly mixed, Daniel directed us to spread the mixture out and add in the gravel. At this, I jogged over to the water pump and filled a bucket. As I carried it back, the water sloshed onto the side of my jeans. Soon, our concrete was almost done being mixed. Our shovels continuously dug in and threw it to and fro. Daniel stepped over the pile and a shovel full of my wet concrete slammed into his boot.
"Sorry about that," I quickly said.
"No problem," he replied.
I continued to shovel, smiling to myself, for unbeknownst to Daniel, is that I had been sponsoring him anonymously for the past year.



Wednesday, March 30, 4:02 p.m.
Garbage littered the dirt street. I could see an old shoe, a sweatshirt, and some plastic bags pressed under foot from the cars that drove by. The road was uneven and a ravine ran down the right side where garbage and water collected. Ahead, a pit lay in the center of the road and cars drove around it. Dogs with ragged fur and scrawny bodies milled about.
My group of high schoolers walked down the quiet street, searching for any signs of life in the shacks that lined it. A mother with child crossed our path and we quickened our step to give her a flier for the upcoming church service later that evening.
"Gracias," she replied with a smile as they continued on their way.
Around a corner, we walked in front of a house where a few children were playing.
"Ask them if they would like to see a drama," I said to Peter, one of the few people in our group who could speak Spanish.
They were between the ages of 5 and 12, and sat down in front of their home. Their mother curiously peeked out the door and started to watch as we started. It is through our dramas that we would share the gospel message of salvation that can be found through Jesus' death on the cross.

Thursday, March 31, 11:26 a.m.
That morning, we were awoken by a heavy wind. It picked up the sand and threw it into the window and walls of the room, louder than the laughter of the girls through the bunkroom wall the night before. And, in the hopes that the wind might die down, we were again making concrete.
In the morning, as we walked to breakfast, the wind would pick up the sand and sting it against our skin. And now, whenever the wind picked up the fine cement powder, it would dance through the air. People would close their eyes as it came at them.
By lunch, we had finished laying two walkways, and everyone's hair was stiff like straw. If you ran your hand through it, it felt like cotton candy from the cement and sand. Another group helping us, composed of teenagers, decided then to do wheelbarrow aerials, which included a wheelbarrow, a passenger, a hill, a dirt ramp, and a lot of momentum. The teens egged each other on while howls of laughter further fueled their madness.



Thursday, March 31, 3:41 p.m.
A scream pierced the air as the kids rose an inch off their chairs. The back of the bus bounced like a two-year-old on a sugar high as it traveled down the dirt road. In between frenzied gasps, the kids broke out in song. Sometimes, the songs would be fighting each other in loudness and other times, the whole bus would be singing in unison. The songs of choice would be from pop culture or worship songs.
Then, the bus would drive through a flooded road and the kids would cheer for the bus driver. I sat above the back tire and propped my foot against a jug of water so that it might not tip over with each bump and talked of "Star Wars" and other geeky things with my friends.

Friday, April 1, 10:03 a.m.
The orphanage gym was a sea of smiling faces. The daycare kids were in frenzy as they ran around us. Daycare for children is almost unheard of in the Tijuana area. Parents who have multiple jobs usually leave their children home alone all day. Rancho sends out buses into the surrounding area and picks up these kids. It also feeds them lunch and provides a positive environment for them to learn.
We arranged the kids into groups and rotated them around through games, teaching, crafts, and dramas. The gym echoed with squeals of laughter from the kids who surrounded the billowing multicolored parachute, and the rhythmic "thoink" of basketballs.



Friday, April 1, 7:42 pm
Alone in the darkness I paced the length of the bus. Outside, the sky was on fire in shades of purple and orange. Smaller fires could be found in the distance in the dirt street or in front of houses. Worship music resonated from the church that the bus was parked in front of. A sign read "Iglesia Ebenezer" in the dim light on the side of the building. People walked by the bus and I hid my face.
On the horizon the sun eventually snuffed out. Faster now I paced the bus in anticipation for what was about to happen. Finally, I pulled myself into the driver's seat and stared into the rearview mirror. A demonic mask of face paint stared back, for we were about to perform a drama for the church service for in which I played Satan. I bared my teeth and the demon in the mirror sneered back.
"Chris, you're almost on," yelled my friend Richard from the church door.
I scowled one last time at the demon and then ran inside.

Sunday, April 3, 6:31 a.m.
Awaking suddenly, I jumped off the top bunk and landed with a thud. I quickly and quietly gathered my stuff, being careful not to wake anybody, and raced off to the bathroom.
The orphanage gets all its water from an on-site pump, so there is a limited amount that they can use for all the basic needs like cooking and washing clothes. Because of this every other day we were given a bucket of hot water to bathe with, and today was my lucky day.
Outside the bathroom I found a bucket lying and carefully filled it full of the precious hot water. I located also a plastic cup to help pour it onto myself and walked into the bathroom. Two of the showers were already being used, since two of the other adult leaders had already awakened and beaten me to it. As the steam threaded itself into the crisp air, morning birds chirped in the distance.

For more information on volunteering opportunities, staff openings or sponsoring an orphan at Rancho De Sus Niños feel free to visit their website at http://www.ranchodesusninos.org.

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