Filiberto, Rest in Peace

A few minutes ago I received a phone call from the village of Xalpitzahuac and received the sad news that twenty-one year-old Filiberto Octaviano Flores died a few hours ago. Rest in peace, my friend.

Filiberto in a photo taken a couple of months ago

Filiberto was one of the kindest, gentlest persons I have met here in the mountains. A couple of months ago he gave me a handwritten note directed to Father Fred and Mission Mexico. The note read as follows:

Father Fred, my name is Filiberto Octaviano Flores, and I am writing this letter to you because I got sick. The doctors sent me to Mexico City, but you know that in the Mountain we don't have much money. I am asking you to please help me, because I'd like to get better. I am married, and I have two daughters: one is four years old, and the other is ten months old. We are from Xalpitzahuac. I participate in the group of the Lady of Guadalupe relay run, and there Sister [Lorena] told us about you and the persons you help in the Mountain. My brother is going to accompany me, and my wife is going to stay to look after my daughters and to work in the field because we are peasant farmers and from our work we get what we need to eat. Father, you are aware of the need that there is in our village. For that reason I ask you to help me. I ask too that you pray for me. Thank you.

This is a copy of Filiberto's handwritten note

Yes, Mission Mexico helped Filiberto. In Mexico City the doctors said that Filiberto was suffering from anemia and leukemia. During the past few months Filiberto made several trips to Mexico City. But his struggle for health has now ended. Tomorrow his final journey will be to the village church and cemetery in Xalpitzahuac. The future for his wife and two daughters will be a difficult one.

The parish church in Xalpitzahuac

Filiberto’s fate certainly makes me think differently in terms of my own health problems. For about a month now I have been ill with a sore throat and dry cough. Mine could be the words that Charles Dickens penned in the mid-1800s: I am at the moment deaf in the ears, hoarse in the throat, red in the nose, green in the gills, damp in the eyes, twitchy in the joints and fractious in temper from a most intolerable and oppressive cold.

This is what a sick Mike MacDonald looked like two weeks ago

During that month I actually visited six different doctors here in Tlapa. All prescribed medicines for me; three gave me injections. Nothing worked. Finally, my good friend, Abel Barrera, director of the Tlachinollan Human Rights Center of the Mountain, insisted that I visit a friend of his, an otorrinolaringólogo (ear, nose, and throat specialist) in the state capital of Chilpancingo. The medicines that Doctor Javier Cuevas gave me seem to be working, and I am now feeling quite a bit better. I might mention that when Doctor Cuevas saw the list of medicines prescribed for me by the doctors in Tlapa, he first laughed, and then he got angry. He said that it was no wonder that I wasn't getting better. 

Part of Doctor Cuevas' recommendations was to use a nebulizer three times a day for five days

I am grateful to Abel Barrera for insisting that I go to see this specialist, and to Benito for driving me there and back. Abel arranged this even though he was busy preparing an acceptance speech for an award he received last week in Mexico City from the National Council for the Prevention of Discrimination (CONAPRED). Abel ended his acceptance speech with these words: “I dedicate [this award] to the fathers and mothers of Ayotzinapa, who are struggling so that we might see a Mexico where the only thing that disappears is injustice and discrimination. Alive they [43 students from the teachers’ college in Ayotzinapa] were taken away; alive we want them back!”

Thanks to Abel Barrera—and congratulations on his latest award

I am also grateful to the many people who visited me while I was ill. Many brought me fruit or soup or other food. Doña Margarita, a well-known “healer” in the village of Copanatoyac, visited me at home more than a half-dozen times, usually accompanied by her daughter Herandy; that led to massages, teas, sauna bath, reflexology, etc. Everyone seemed to want me to get better. (That definitely includes my two sisters and two brothers in Canada, who seemed to be more worried about me than even I was.)

Herandy and her mother, Margarita—thanks for everything, my friends

Being ill also meant that I didn’t go to any location to see Pope Francis during his six-day trip to different parts of Mexico (February 12–17). Back in Rome, Francis expressed his gratitude for this “experience of transfiguration,” in which he experienced firsthand “a body that has been wounded so many times, a people that has so many times been oppressed, despised, desecrated in its dignity.” The people of Mexico—especially the marginalized and impoverished—are most grateful for this visit by the pope.

Pope Francis praying at the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City

Supporting A Dream...Compassionately

In my experience, I have observed that those who practice religion without an active relationship with God practice charity, while those who have a relationship with God live a life of compassion. To give you a sense of what I mean by these words, I would describe myself as being engaged in charity when I am in control of the situation: I can decide who I am going to help, how long I am going to be of service, and the price I am willing to pay. Ultimately, I decide. When I am compassionate, I do not decide. I have no control—I am sucked into the situation. I am not concerned with who the person is, or what the person needs from me, or how long I am going to be with the person, or the price I will have to pay. The consequences are secondary to the call for compassionate action in the present moment.

                 Paul Coutinho SJ. How Big Is Your God?: The Freedom to Experience the Divine

Adriana, Ana, and Javier in front of the cathedral in Puebla, where they hope to study university this year

No, I am not the compassionate one. But it seems like the month of January was a month of not being in control, of getting “sucked into situations,” as Paul Coutinho expressed it. Why? Because January is the month that most universities in Mexico begin accepting registrations for new students graduating from high school in June of 2016.

Liz and her mom; Liz studied at the Champagnat High School of the Mountain, which is supported by Mission Mexico

There aren’t enough public universities in Mexico, and thousands of students who have the dream of getting a university degree just won’t be accepted into the area of study that they wish to pursue. There is little opportunity for university study here in the mountains of Guerrero, so most students have to move to urban centers in this state or in other states in the country.

For those who don't go on to study after high school, survival farming is the most common alternative

This is a huge challenge for poor students from impoverished families. Many students have never even visited the city where their university of choice is located. For that reason, many families approached me to help to get their son or daughter at least registered for the entrance exam that Mexican universities require for admission. So I was on the road a lot this month with groups of students from many different high schools. Some days I hit the road at 4 in the morning; some nights I got home at 4 in the morning.

This is the daily life of many of the mothers and fathers in the mountain villages; most
hope that life will be different for their children

Mission Mexico assists dozens of students with their university studies. These students come from very impoverished settings, and they are young people who have demonstrated, even at their young age, a commitment to improving life in their communities. Change is always slow, but their presence brings light and hope to this marginalized region.

Roberto and his father, Don Lencho, share lunch with me in Cochoapa el Grande

And not only marginalized: referring to the upcoming visit of Pope Francis to Mexico (February 12–18), the official weekly newspaper of the Archdiocese of Mexico mentioned that Francis will visit “places in the country that are violent, poor, and miserable”—and it states that “Guerrero is the place that suffers the worst.” It refers to the fact that drug cartels control much of the state and that there is little respect for human rights. This is part of the “horror” and “dark panorama” that the newspaper refers to as the background to life and death here.

Now that it is the dry season and water is scarce in many places, it is more common to see
rashes and skin infections among the children, as can be seen here on Benigno's face

“The call for compassionate action in the present moment”—these words that end the quote from Paul Coutinho at the beginning of this note express part of what Mission Mexico is all about. I thank everyone who supports this effort. I am aware that times are challenging in Canada at the present time, so I am doubly grateful for those compassionate persons who help to make a difference in this “dark panorama.” A small donation in Canada makes a huge difference in the lives of the people here.

It can sometimes be tiring to see that road on the other side of the mountain, knowing that
it will take me at least two hours of driving to get there—and that's not my final destination