“Time is a luxury” is a truism that defined much of my time at Miami University. In my underclassman years, my time was spent on becoming the most able student I could be, taking most nights to work on page after page of notes. Towards my upperclassman time (admittedly, especially when I turned 21), I put more of an effort into cultivating a social network, branching far out to fill all my time.
On both fronts, I believe I succeeded. However, until very recently, I still felt disappointment in what I had done at Miami, especially in regards to connections summed in the phrases “Miami Merger,” “Love and Honor,” “To think in such a place I lived such a life” and “OxVegas” that the school takes pride in. I must report my sincerest gratitude in finding an opportunity where I could not only connect myself to a community I came to love, but also have the wisdom to put to rest those doubts of self-fulfillment regarding both my past and my future.
That community was Pamplona, Lima, Peru, though you can have yours anytime, anywhere, if you choose.
To explain the impact of my service and visit with the Miami University Newman Center, I have to briefly explain what interested me in taking this trip. It took several leaps of faith Beyond mere adventure, it gave me a unique opportunity to reflect on myself and my family.
I had already traveled much for pleasure, having traveled Europe through MUDEC in my sophomore year. But, I remembered my time visiting and hearing the stories of Sister Anastasia McGonagle in Ireland, who had a deep compassion for the downtrodden, as had many members of my family. It was then my realization that reflecting on your own good fortune better compels one to reflect on your duty to others.
The obligations of the trip were the tradeoff and sacrifice to immerse myself. The entirety of my spring break would be taken with this act of service, with little space or time for amenities of any sort (including phone usage).
By the time I was on the bus to the convent where we would be staying, I was already battling a storm of frustration and flustered worries. And when, mere minutes later, we were standing before what appeared to be a sheer rise of tumbled rocks, I almost laughed. Then we climbed it and saw the town.
It is hard to describe the extremes of poverty in being, but wealth in spirit I saw. In a country where almost half its citizens making less than $50 a month, the hills of Pamplona were a desolation near absolute – the best houses had raw brick-walled terraces – but everywhere else the crude shacks of plywood and scrap roofs.
And everywhere was the stink and yammering of chickens and feral dogs that squatted by fenceless homes, perched dangerously on that desert hillside. Trash was scattered, either blown away or piled into burned toxic piles. It is a landscape that puts the lives of those “south of the border” into clarity.
Yet, all the talk troubles from outside were moot, for here lived an extreme of humanity more vivid than any talking point could surmise.
Even on that first awestruck day, the glory of the people was undeniable. For that first day (as with every day we were in Pamplona), we were met with their joy, and my hope rose with every sighting of a student coming up or down the impossible concrete steps, or the sights of mothers with papooses in the traditional garb with gifts or groceries.
Together, we played games and relaxed under the shade with the neighbors. I remember fondly and spontaneously playing a makeshift game of catch with a kid, him rolling a broken DVD down a wooden board for me to catch at the end.
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Although we worked long hours each day moving water, sand, stones and concrete to complete an anti-avalanche wall overlooking the town’s community center, we were encouraged to spend time with the locals even without words. The result was to learn; to take a pace of life where personal connection is rightly at its heart.
The revelation from those days, in short, was this: value above all those who can value you (friends, families and God), wherever they can be found, even in the most remote of strangers. And when in doubt, look for them with love, and honor them in your heart and deeds. That is the best way to validate and commemorate your time at Miami and beyond.
Love and honor your neighbor.
Gavin McGonagle is a senior undergraduate student double majoring in history (with honors) and political science. He is writing as an independent opinion columnist for The Miami Student as well as the press representative of the Miami University College Republicans. He serves as Chancellor of Oxford’s Knights of Columbus Council 18322 – Seat of Wisdom, as well as secretary of Epsilon Tau Pi, Sigma Colony.
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