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Published on 05/05/1997 All articles from this issue

Los Altos teens put roof over the heads of needy family in Mexico

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By Brenden Salmon

Special to the Town Crier

Brenden and Kari Salmon were among a contingent of local students who traveled to Mexico April 12-17 to help build a house for a needy family. The following is a first-person account of their experience.

Spring break. For most high school students it means a time to relax. Yet, on the first Saturday of our spring break, 29 students from Los Altos and Mountain View high schools found ourselves in the Egan parking lot at 6 a.m., awaiting a 13-hour car ride. We were bound for Mexico with the goal of building a house in four days for a family that we had never met. So we all piled into five different vans, each with an adult driver, and set off on our week-long adventure.

By the time we got to the border, we had met up with Sergio Gomez, director of Baja Vision and the man whose house we would be taking over for the next few nights. He was also the man who knew how to build houses, a skill invaluable in the days to come. After getting settled in a bunkhouse where we would stay for the first night, we met together and discussed the plan for our first day of building.

The next morning we were awakened at 7:30 a.m., a harsh reminder that we had given up the relaxation of a typical spring break. After eating Cheerios, packing lunches and plenty of bottled water, we set out to the work site, which was a 40-minute drive from downtown Tijuana. Full of energy and excitement, we cranked up a tape of "La Bamba" on the dusty van ride through the neighborhood.

When we got to the work site, all the wood, nails, windows and drywall was placed next to the concrete foundation that had already been laid. The rest was up to us. So we started, not really knowing what it was we were doing but finding ourselves pretty good at improvising. Amazingly enough, by lunch time, we had two of the four walls up.

Our lunch break was the first real opportunity we had to meet the family whose house we were building. It was a family of eight; the parents and their six children. Previously, they had been living under a bright orange tarp, which was hardly larger than the size of my shower at home. The father worked pushing an ice cream cart, and the children sold gum and trinkets downtown. The overwhelming gratitude of the family was clearly shown by the ever-present smiles on their faces.

Leaving the neighborhood, the differences between the society that we were used to and the one that we were now visiting were more than apparent. People in these poor, dust-filled areas outside of Tijuana seemed to appreciate everything. Women were outside hanging laundry that looked to have been dirty for weeks; and children ran together in the streets, often without shoes or shirts.

The next morning we headed out again, this time a little more sore than the day before. No plumbing in Tijuana meant no running water, which meant no showers for us. We were a little groggy, not to mention a bit dirty, by the time we piled back into the vans.

We arrived at the work site knowing that this would be an even harder day; it was the day we began work on the roof and the separating walls on the inside. Throughout the hours of measuring and cutting beams, and lifting and hammering plywood on the roof's frame, no one's spirit seemed to fade. By the close of the day, we were done.

The next day was spent putting two layers of tar over the plywood on the roof and cutting and nailing all the drywall for the inside of the house. The house was beginning to feel more real, and we were all impressed at how well we had worked together. We also eagerly anticipated the following day, when we would get to present the family with the key to their new home and reward ourselves with showers, the first of the trip, at a bath house.

After a good night's sleep, we set out for our final day of building. When lunch time rolled around, the house was finished and we were ready to give the key to its new owners. We gathered in a circle around the front of the house, and Sergio asked if the father would like to say anything. He began by saying how grateful he was and how happy he was, and then he began to cry as he spoke. He said that he was a poor man and never felt that he would be able to provide anything for his family, but we had come as his saviors.

Spring break for those of us who went on that trip to Mexico was not just about building a house. It was about trying to change at least one family's life. It was about putting our own lives into perspective. It was one of the most worthwhile and meaningful trips of my high school career and one that will always stay with me.