The drug wars taking place in Mexico have been a heated topic for at least a year now. Is there anything Americans can do about this ‘war zone’? Why can’t the Mexican government enforce stricter rules? How will this affect me? My junior year at Texas A&M, I became tired of asking questions. I was ready for an answer.

As a Mays Business Fellow, I was assigned to a leadership experience. I chose to work with a small, all-girls orphanage in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. Our assignment was to raise a minimum monetary value of $5,000. Being a group primarily made up of accountants, we decided to make the orphanage a 501(c)(3) for tax purposes. Although I had never visited the orphanage, I was told that roughly forty girls travel to school an hour every day in a van without air-conditioning. Immediately, the Texas A&M campus responded to our cause. Our leadership group, which we named Full Hearts, raised well above the specified amount enabling us to purchase a van for the girls. After this success, I had met my goal of receiving an “A” in the class. However, somewhere along the way my perspective had changed. I felt a sense of connection with a group of girls I had never met.

When a group member, who regularly visited the girls, suggested that I take a trip to the orphanage, I was somewhat startled. Despite the fact I had more reasons of why I should not make the trip, I decided to travel to Casa Hogar.  Her name was Claudia. When I had started the project three months ago, the names of the girls was my least concern. However now, all I think of is Claudia. She is twenty-eight years old and still living at the orphanage. When she was a baby, the madres, or nuns, who run Casa Hogar found her eating garbage straight out of a trash can. The bacteria somehow disinfected her brain altering her basic mental functions. When I met Claudia, I did not see any of this. I saw the happiest girl in the world racing towards me, a perfect stranger, for a hug. Suddenly, all my work for school had a new meaning. My time had affected this precious, little girl who desperately needed me.  My goal for a grade had evolved into a purpose and a cause that was rooted deep inside of me. The first day spent at Casa Hogar I experienced the culture shock of a lifetime. The orphanage was run entirely by volunteer nuns or madres who spoke minimal English while my Spanish was anything but polished. For hours, they sat with me struggling to communicate. Never had anyone tried so hard to talk to me just for the sake of talking. Another girl who left a significant impact on me was Grasia, a seven year old diagnosed with fetal alcohol syndrome. She did not want my sympathy; she wanted to know my favorite color.

Grasia (Spanish for Grace) with me

Later that weekend, I traveled to the Colonias, a living site outside the city that also serves as the dump. Nearly 500 people live in this outskirt of Nuevo Laredo with no transportation, running water, or electricity. As I drove through a muddled dirt path, I was overcome with emotion. Despite a lack of money, the population continues to have Catholic services every Saturday afternoon. After attending the service, I met a small child who was very excited to give me a present. She reached over and placed a necklace in my hand that simply read “Hope.” I had a new mission for my life that included providing hope to the children of Nuevo Laredo. Throughout the last couple of years, Full Hearts has expanded into a 150 strong student organization. Through Full Hearts, I have embraced my ability to mobilize others to want to struggle for our shared aspirations involving the orphanage. I believe that when people help others simply for the sake of doing good, amazing things happen.

The Colonias

If you would like to help Full Hearts in any way, please visit: fullhearts.org OR contact Full Hearts at: fullheartsfoundation@gmail.com.