In many ways, we stand on a threshold. As we prepare to mark 15 years of Kino, we cannot help but give thanks for God’s faithfulness to us and for the generosity of people like you. We have grown, and we are grateful to have made it this far.
At the same time, we know that growth is meaningless if it pulls us away from our original vision: accompanying our siblings on the move in a way that honors the image of God in each person. We are thrilled to be doing just that in time-tested and new ways every day.
As we think about one aspect of our work that best encompasses holistic accompaniment over the past fifteen years, we cannot help but think of the shelter. It has always been a cherished community of solidarity and collective care, where migrants find family and friends while creating a home at the border. Since the shelter’s inception, it has been a beautiful place of mutual support.
Today, we want to talk about what the shelter has looked like until now, and our hopes for it as we journey towards the next horizon. As you read, we invite you to consider the shelter as a vision of migrants’ own power, solidarity, and role in building a world where migration with dignity is possible.
What is Holistic Accompaniment?
Meeting the basic humanitarian needs of migrants has been essential since KBI’s inception. We have always supported migrants’ access to basic needs like food, shelter, clothing, and safety. Yet we recognize that our siblings on the move are full, complex people. Their needs extend far beyond basic humanitarian assistance. If we want to cultivate a community of collective care that honors each individual’s whole being, we must look to physical, psychological, intellectual, and spiritual realities.
“Holistic accompaniment is about seeing the person as a whole person. We want them to feel seen as an individual, to feel valued. We want them to know their worth,” says Sr. Josefina “Pina” Bejarano, who served as the shelter coordinator for years.
Holistic Accompaniment and the Shelter
The shelter was born to care for a basic human need – shelter. Yet since it began, the shelter was always much more than that.
When the shelter first opened in 2008 under the name “Casa Nazareth,” it was exclusively for women. Only six would fit! At the time, fewer than 30% of people on the move towards the US were women.
Sr. Engracia Robles says, “Some of the women at the shelter were women who had been deported. When they were deported, they were exposed to violence and exploitation on top of being displaced. That’s why we worked to make the first shelter feel like a home. The women lived communally. They shared their work, their stories, their joys, and failures.” Women in the shelter would focus on building community, communal care, sharing chores in the space and checking in on one another.
“Life was calm,” says Sr. Pina. “It was a place where women, exhausted and beaten down, came to rest and find community with other women that would give them strength to continue the journey.”
Over time, the shelter has grown to welcome families and weave in additional offerings to boost women’s mental, emotional, and spiritual health. Today, the families at the shelter have access to psychological support to process the trauma of migration, including weekly group therapy sessions. The social work team collaborates with families to create plans for their next move after they leave the shelter.
Now, the shelter also works to ensure that families who stay there have opportunities for recreation and skill-building. Special activities for children like the Border Youth Tennis Exchange, which offers children on the move the chance to engage in enriching movement and play with other children, offer respite and joy for kids and parents alike! The social work team offers group activities for those in the shelter – ranging from self-defense classes to workshops on parenting in the midst of stress.
Families also participate in a community of collective care – each guest has responsibilities to care for the space, from making sure that the bathroom is stocked with toilet paper to mopping the floors after dinner. They also attend times of prayer, group games, and fun opportunities to showcase creativity like cooking meals together!
Each of these rhythms and opportunities contribute to a sense of belonging, rest, and accompaniment. This hospitality is much needed. Recently in the shelter, four young boys ran through Kino’s space. Their parents remarked that it was the first time since they fled their home that they could release their children’s hands. They could feel confident the children were safe. For the moment, their kids could just be kids again.
The road we’ve trod: looking back at the shelter’s history
During the shelter’s early years, intimacy was accessible – if not easy. With only 6-10 women in the space at a time, most quickly bonded. Judy Bierbaum, who has volunteered with Kino in the shelter offering workshops for psychological and spiritual care, comments, “People would get to know each other. There was a lot of intimacy and an ease of maintaining people’s dignity and worth. It was a place where people feel seen and cared for.”
When it came time to build the new migrant outreach center in Nogales, Kino knew that it would be strategic to expand the shelter’s capacity. Originally, the goal was to create a space to accommodate 100 people. This growth was timely – increasingly women and children were arriving in the U.S.-Mexico border to seek protection or greater opportunity. Yet the plans for growth brought a concern: how to maintain the sense of deep community among the people who stayed there.
“A shelter is more than people just sleeping in beds. It’s about holistic, collective care. That can be hard to do at scale,” says Executive Director Joanna Williams.
With this tension in mind, the Kino team worked closely with volunteers, partners, and people on the move to preserve the heart of solidarity and accompaniment in a larger space.
“It was a long process. We wanted everyone to have the experience of coming to the shelter and expecting to see the face of God in their neighbor. Together, we worked to do that by making sure we were cultivating closeness and trust,” says Sr. Pina. She explains that the shelter carefully curated common and informal spaces where migrants could relax and connect.
Sr. Pina continues, “I think the closeness of each day we have together, making sure to learn each person’s name, sharing space, playing with the children, making jokes, even simple smiles all make it obvious how much we care. We want each person at the shelter to know that they are important to us.”
Through quiet, intentional rhythms like these – embracing small opportunities and believing in the power of presence, migrants, staff, and volunteers have managed to both preserve and strengthen the sense of solidarity at the shelter.
Judy shares, “More than ever, I hear people talk about how good they feel here. The people they encounter here are good. Everyone still feels seen and cared for, that’s no small accomplishment.”
The hands that weave community: people on the move and the Missionaries of the Eucharist
Building a space of collective care and holistic accompaniment takes many hands. In the shelter, those hands have often belonged to Missionaries of the Eucharist like Sr. Pina and Sr. Engracia, as well as migrants themselves.
When Sr. Pina first arrived at the shelter, then Casa Nazareth, she was not even a sister yet. She came to stay for only six months as part of her discernment of religious life. She laughs, “When I was coming, I knew that I was going to be serving with migrants. I looked it up on the internet, and the information was good, but it never expressed the intensity of daily life here.”
The ways that the women at Casa Nazareth created community among themselves had left a deep impression on her. After those first six months, she decided to take vows as a Missionary of the Eucharist and after a period in novitiate she was able to return in 2019 for a much longer placement at Kino serving at the shelter as the operations coordinator. She continues to highlight the sense of community, collective care, and resilience that grows there.
“The truth is that always, people are coming to the shelter with difficult and painful experiences. It sounds a bit harsh or ugly, but the truth is that it means that they have something in common,” she says.
Over her time at the shelter, Sr. Pina witnessed weddings, baptisms, birthdays, and more. “The most beautiful part is that everyone works together to make the festivities happen. They organize and cook traditional foods from their hometowns. When one rejoices, all rejoice!” Sr. Pina even recalls times she’s seen babies be born while their mother was staying in the shelter. Then, all of the people in the shelter would coordinate care for the new mom and make sure she got food and rest.
As the shelter grew, so did the team that Sr. Pina worked with. She marvels at the ways that the shelter operations team has come together so seamlessly.
“When we started the larger shelter, we asked for support from the women on the Kino team. We rotated responsibilities among ourselves to cover different shifts. The solidarity was a huge gift!” she says. Alma Rosa, Susy, and finally Manuel joined the team. She says the most beautiful part is the sense of unity and collaboration. “Each person has their own tasks, but there is a lot we do in common. Our catchphrase as a team is, ‘If one falls, we all fall.’ That teamwork has been so important, especially when we ourselves need accompaniment in our pain, anger, and joy as well. The people who stay at the shelter have taught us how to express our emotions and how to ask for help. Through them and through our team, we have learned how to receive accompaniment, too.”
As she surveys the ways the shelter has grown and changed over time, Sr. Pina says that she’s happy. “It fills me with joy to see the team listening to people, seeing the bonds that are being generated among migrants and the spirit of solidarity. We have grown because we recognize that none of us is meant to journey alone. We have learned to ask for help and to trust that others will accompany us, too.”
At the end of July, we bid farewell to Sr. Pina. As part of her formation with the Missionaries of the Eucharist, she will travel to Colima to a new mission for her next season.
The Next Horizon
Growing the shelter while preserving a sense of community and accompaniment has been a long, careful work. The shelter has grown, and the demand for it will only continue to rise. Judy mentions that because of the incredibly supportive environment, “We’re bursting at the seams.”
As part of the next horizon, Kino desires to expand opportunities for recreation and creativity. Soon, people staying at the shelter will have a space separate from the comedor where they can relax and create community. The dining room will no longer do double-duty as a soccer field, basketball court, or party room.
One of the projects that is already underway is curating a small library where families at the shelter can come. Many of the books have been hand-selected by Kino’s psychology and social work teams to assist young children in processing the trauma of migration. Other books will offer skills and creative recreation for adults.
Executive Director Joanna Williams is quick to note that in addition to more offerings for migrants, the next chapter of the shelter involves strengthening practical realities for a larger space. “For example, we need to run fire drills more regularly,” she says. Shoring up the medical services offered at the shelter is a key focus, too.
Of course, these pieces come together to create a space of solidarity and care through the efforts and hearts of people. We are thrilled to welcome Sr. Gladis, who will come on board as the new shelter operations coordinator.
She is enthusiastic about the opportunity. “Kino is such a great team and I’m so honored to join the effort. I love to work with a team, to be creative, dynamic and sensitive to the needs of others. I’m ready to learn, listen, and offer myself up to this mission so we can work towards a world where Migration with Dignity is possible and accompany each person holistically through the shelter.”
Join us in the next chapter
The shelter has been a pillar of community, accompaniment, and solidarity for Kino since its inception. We know that it’s a palace where people truly encounter the face of God in one another. Whatever comes in Kino’s future years, we are confident that this heart will remain through the faithful work of migrants, staff, volunteers, and the support of people like you.
Beyond Kino’s walls, the shelter demonstrates our common humanity. Judy remarks, “I truly believe that if people came to listen to the stories and accompany people on the move, they would see themselves. I know that I would make the same choices as many of the folks I meet in the comedor if I were in the same situation. That’s one reason we must keep dignity on the forefront.”
I have watched and supported ur mission from nj. I will continue God bless u