By Jennifer Bow

Can you imagine what life would be like if you had to wear the same clothes every day? Or if you had to struggle to eat three meals a day?

I have a hard time putting myself in either of those situations, and I think many Silicon Valley residents would feel the same way.

June 16-22, I traveled with seven classmates from St. Francis High School to the city of Coachella to help the Dominican Sisters of Oakford hold a Bible camp for the children of migrant farm workers.

Coachella, located near the wealthy and glamorous Palm Springs, is the poorest city in California and the sixth poorest in the country.

We worked with third- to fifth-grade boys and girls. We set up a variety of stations, such as an art-and-crafts station, a games station, a Bible-learning station and a music station.

We provided the children with snacks, lunch and an after-camp day care until 5 p.m., when their parents arrived to pick them up.

We had been warned of extreme poverty, and we were prepared for that. When the children arrived, we did see poverty, yet we did not see the disgruntled and hopeless looks that we’d expected.

The children had endless amounts of energy and happiness. It was their simple smiles that kept us going, even when we were ready to pass out from the 117-degree heat. As the children opened up to us, we realized that some of them were from Palm Springs and others from Coachella. As parents arrived to take their children home, it was very apparent who was going where.

The disparity between the rich and poor became starkly evident on a 30-minute car tour of Coachella Valley. Starting at the church where camp was run, we headed toward Palm Springs. Ten minutes into the ride we could see perfectly manicured golf courses and gardens, along with graceful two-story houses and exclusive neighborhoods.

Looking up the long border between Coachella and Palm Springs, the differences between the two cities were apparent. Coachella was nothing but huge dirt clumps as far as the eye could see, capped off by a distant shack that looked as though it should have toppled over years before. Palm Springs, on the other hand, was well maintained, with wildflowers and trimmed grass, bordered by a 15-foot brick wall over which one could see the elegant houses.

In the heart of Coachella’s worst poverty, we passed Jorge, an older man selling plots of dirt for the homeless to sleep on. We visited the vineyards for a quick demonstration of the harsh, cruel conditions of the torturous manual labor that is considered necessary in Coachella.

I came home with an incredible respect for all that I have.

The Town Crier is looking for voices of local youth. If you are interested, please call Sara Ballenger at 948-9000, ext. 316.