Abuela Ninfa: A Harriet Tubman of Sorts

My first experience with illegal immigration goes all the way back to the 1980s. I was just a little girl playing in my great-grandmother’s yard when I witnessed unwavering kindness. Ninfa Gallegos Trevino was my father’s grandmother. Everyone called her Abuela Ninfa, but I couldn’t pronounce that so I called her “Wella Ninfa.”

I spent countless hours with Wella Ninfa. She told me amusing stories and secrets about her children and didn’t mind playing with my Barbie dolls on the occasions that they accompanied me to her house. She taught me how to shuffle a deck of cards and then how to win at poker with that same deck. But more importantly, she taught me what selflessness was like. She showed me the value of a human life.

Wella Ninfa lived in a ranch community called “La Parrita.” Now that I think about it, I don’t even know what that means. These acres of land are located in Brooks County, Texas. Brooks County is very close to the Mexico border, so illegal immigrants travel through my hometown of Falfurrias. The travels of these immigrants often take them through La Parrita because it is best to stay out of the main town. My great-grandmother would always feed any illegal immigrant that came across her land. I can remember watching her hand out plastic bags filled with food and drinks to anyone who approached her door. It quickly became clear that others had been told of her kindness because hers was the only house at which future travelers stopped. Day or night, rain or shine, Wella Ninfa would open her door to these strangers and provide them with sustenance and a smile. She didn’t care that her sons and daughters berated her for encouraging these visits. She didn’t care that she lived alone, was vulnerable, and did not have much money. She saw to it that no one who came across her door walked away empty-handed or empty-bellied.

The first time I saw an immigrant approach my abuela’s yard, I yelled at the top of my lungs and ran inside. The man stopped at the entrance to her yard and hesitated. As she beckoned him towards the house, she scolded me for this behavior. She said that while I should be wary of strangers, I should not be afraid of a person just because he or she was an “alien” or “wet-back” – as many in my community called them. She reminded me that we are all human beings and that all these travelers wanted was help to survive on their way towards a better life. Who were we to be afraid of or stop them?