Sometimes we go without food to pay for school.” With a trembling hand, Blanca quickly brushes away the tears that have spilled over. A few of her children, peeking out the doorway, rush over to her and throw their arms around her in tight hugs. A smile breaks through Blanca’s sadness. As she caresses the dark-haired heads surrounding her, she murmurs, “My children are my mortar.”

Blanca and her husband, along with their seven children, live in La Morita, an impoverished area of Tijuana, Mexico. The family is part of the 200,000 people the Oblates serve in this border town.

Tijuana and other Mexican cities near the United States border have been the center of controversy since the U.S. government began debating immigration reform. As government officials work for a change in the States, the Oblates work for a change in Tijuana.

San Diego, a U.S. city close to Tijuana, boasts lush foliage and bright flowers. Across the border in Mexico, though, the rich natural environment becomes a vast wasteland of dirt roads and a bare landscape.

When I first came here four years ago this area was covered with olive trees.” Fr. Pablo Wilhelm, O.M.I., gestures widely at the valley that holds La Morita and at the hills surrounding it. “They cut everything down to build more houses.”

Fr. Wilhelm, from Mascoutah, IL, is one of six Oblates currently serving the people of Tijuana. “People move here for a better life, for a chance at a factory job. Some get jobs and earn about $50 a week. The rest stay because they gave up everything to move here.”

As a part of his ministry, Fr. Wilhelm visits many of his parishioners. On a cool day in May, he walks the steep hills to check on Blanca and her children. Blanca eagerly welcomes Fr. Wilhelm into her home, a small shack made of cement and scrap materials. “We built it ourselves,” she says proudly, leading him through three tiny rooms. A dark, cramped kitchen leads into a windowless living room that is also used as a bedroom.

“They just got a bed,” Fr. Wilhelm explains. “Before, some of the children had no place to sleep.” The walls of the rooms are bare, save for a framed picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe. The children huddle around, curling up on torn couches or leaning up against dirt-stained walls. The last room is divided into two bedrooms separated by a cement wall. Each is crammed with two twin beds that sleep two or three people. For privacy, sheer sheets hang from doorways.

Blanca leads Fr. Wilhelm out of the sunless house and into the small cement front yard. They carry out the only two chairs in the house and sit down to talk about the challenges of the Mexican school system. “School is free, but parents pay for registration, an entrance exam, uniforms, school supplies, even mops and brooms to clean the classroom,” Fr. Wilhelm explains.

Blanca shares her own struggle to keep her children in school. “If you don’t pay, the faculty and staff make it hard for the kids, or they’ll even kick them out of school. My son Jose Luis was so afraid of being kicked out he’d hide from his teacher under the benches at school. The schools have no compassion.”

Blanca’s story is not uncommon. Many parents in Tijuana understand her struggle. Carmelita (pictured below with her daughter Ruth) is a mother of three and is eager for them to succeed. “I want my children to stay in school. They’ll never improve without an education.”

Despite countless roadblocks from the school system, Carmelita is determined to keep her children in school. “I waited in line for three days for a number so my son could take the entrance exam into secondary school. I didn’t work for three days; I didn’t go home for three days. I didn’t leave until they said he could take the exam.”

Even though her son passed the test, this does not guarantee he will
be accepted into secondary school. Because of the lack of teachers and learning space, many students are turned away. Many children in La Morita never receive more than an elementary education. This startling fact does not discourage Carmelita. “I won’t give up,” she says bravely.

Although the schools may not be supportive, the Oblates are. The Oblates have helped establish scholarships for families most in need to help pay for school. Blanca eagerly explains how the Oblates have helped her family. With tears streaming down her face she states, “Padre Pablo and the Oblates help pay for books, supplies, uniforms. They help my children stay in school.”

Fr. Dan Crahen, O.M.I., also serving in Tijuana, confirms Blanca’s statement. “We award 200 scholarships a year to kids of all ages who are in need. We believe education doesn’t just stop in elementary school. University is the hope for all kids.”

He refers to one young man’s story to emphasize the importance of education. “I worked with a fifteen-year-old who had never gone to school. He lived with his grandmother, but she was told he was too ‘slow’ to learn anything. The young man approached me because he wanted to make his First Communion, but I told him he had to learn to read so he could study and prepare for the Sacrament. We [the Oblates] and a few others paid for his schooling. He received perfect 10’s – the equivalent of straight A’s in the U.S. What would have happened to him if no one had decided to help?”

In a place where the average factory worker works 12-hour days, where most people can’t pay for a $4 visit to the clinic, where families choose between filling hungry bellies or paying the electric bill, the Oblates and the people of Tijuana understand the importance of education. As Fr. Crahen states, “Education is key. If you want change, you need to be educated.”