A drop in the desert

This is Kevin Nahum, 5 years old and from El Salvador, who I met today at Casa del Migrante in Tapachula. Kevin's parents have been forced to leave their country because of threats against his father, an accountant. They are only two days into their journey. They eventually want to reach San Francisco, where a relative lives. They don't know how they'll get there, only that they cannot go back.

"When we need to walk, we will walk," Kevin's mother Caroline told me.

The casa is run by Father Flor Maria Rigoni, an Italian priest who speaks six languages, entered the seminary at the age of 11, has lived in Mexico for 22 years and recently was named by Mexico's president the Man of the Year for the Defense of Human Rights. Rigoni has a long white beard and a long white robe, and he walks barefoot around the grounds of his casa.

"We are speaking of millions of people," he says of those who pass through Mexico to reach the United States. "And behind every person, there's a family, there's an identity, there's a tradition."

Rigoni has worked in Tapachula for nine years, helping thousands, but he knows he cannot help them all. "We are really a drop," he says. "But nevertheless, a drop stops the desert from gaining an inch."

When I left the casa tonight, I said goodbye to Kevin Nahum and his family. I wished them luck, thanked them for their time and gave them my phone number. They said they would call when they reach California. I will be waiting.