Sister Kathia Di Serio, an Italian Comboni missionary, carries out her mission in the capital of Mexico. She accompanies migrants who, living dramatic situations, full of hope and pain, have left their country in search of a better life and future.
I spent many years as a missionary in Africa, in Kenya to be precise. I am currently in the huge Mexico City, accompanying migrants who continue to arrive in the hope of a better life and a better future.
In this sad social fabric, I meet the most isolated, the forgotten and the abandoned, I listen to their stories, their moments and their dramatic situations, experienced since the beginning of their journey to the Mexican capital.
I go to visit them, walking slowly with them and among them; I stop on the roadside and in their temporary homes of tents or cardboard tents. Then the distances disappear and we experience profound moments of coexistence, full of tears and joys, hopes and disappointments.
The incessant flow of migrants to Mexico City, where they will remain for a long time, brings with it a myriad of stories, hopes and desperations. Many migrants arrive in search of work, security or simply a new beginning. Yet, too often they come up against obstacles: from discrimination to a lack of documents or the perception of being intrusive and invisible strangers.
A young Honduran woman, about 25 years old, who I often find sitting in front of her tent set up on the street, tells me: “Sister Kathia, often words do not touch the heart, like the glance of those who look at us with eyes of contempt and anger. You, instead, approach us naturally, with a different look; It is a look of kindness, affection and true love. Believe me, it gives me joy and helps me feel like a person again, in such a vulnerable and inhuman context, where loneliness reigns and unattractive and not-very-positive thoughts occupy part of my day… Thank you, Sister Kathia, thank you for your affectionate and attentive look; Thank you for being here and for stopping by to talk to us”.
Another day, a 23-year-old Venezuelan greeted us and exchanged a smile and a “how are you”. And, with eyes full of tears and in a low voice, he said to me: “You know, I’m fine, even if I’m not well… I don’t rest well, the road is not safe, even if I’m in a tent with my family. I don’t sleep well because I have to take care of my children and my wife… I’ve been like this for months; but I say I’m fine because, thank God, we’ve come this far, despite the moments of danger we’ve had to face. Simply… I just want to thank you for stopping to talk to me, thank you for being there and not forgetting this part of humanity… Thank you”.
Then, holding my hand tightly, he whispers: “Come back, we’re waiting for you”. These meetings fill my heart and my eyes with tears and hope. I carry within me every person I meet; every dialogue and exchange I experience is a gift and a wealth that I want to share; but often words fail to fully express what I experience and feel in my heart… I know that I will continue to walk with my gaze turned towards the suffering and hope of migrants and Him who is the way, the truth and the life.
