< Sister
Stories
 Sister
Carolina Maria Ramos
Entered 1966, Died 2005
Sister Carolina Maria, the first woman from Central
America to enter our Congregation, had a passion for
caring for the poor. Her story is told here in her
own words in this personal account created shortly
before her unexpected death on June 6, 2005.
Many years ago in my native country of Guatemala,
I used to belong to the Legion of Mary and went to the
National Hospital in Huehuetenango to visit the patients.
In those days the hospital was an awful place to visit,
but we went there because the people were in desperate
need. The priests made a list of those who wanted to
go confession, of those who wanted communion, of those
who wanted the last sacrament because they were dying.
Seeing that situation, I asked the Bishop if we could
get help for these people. He said that there was no
way for us to get Church support for the hospital, because
it was a national hospital and not a Catholic hospital.
One day I was working with the Bishop
in religion classes in the schools and he told me that
we were going to have Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate
Word for the hospital. Then he said, “And you
are going to teach them Spanish.” I asked, “Me?” He
said, “Yes.” I
asked again, “Me?” And again, he said, “Yes.” I
told him that I didn't know any English. He said
that I would not need any English to speak Spanish. The
Bishop wouldn't take no for an answer.
I went home that evening and I was so panicky.
My brother told me that I had nothing to worry about.
He said, “You just have to put a bunch of stuff
on the table and say, ‘This is a cup; this is a
fork.’ The first day you open the door and you
say it in Spanish. Say, ‘Sit down’ and ‘Get
up’ and stuff like that and they will start learning
Spanish that way.”
So in 1963 four Sisters (Sisters Stanislaus Mackey,
Paulette Shaunfield, Margaret Kelly and Dermot Cahill)
arrived in Guatemala. I first saw Sr. Stanislaus, a big
tall woman looking down at me. All of the Sisters were
looking down at me and I was scared to death.
I got some first grade grammar school books to start
teaching the Sisters. The Bishop came and asked
me how the class was going. I said, “You have
to ask them, because I don’t think they like me, because they are not
learning anything.” He said, “They are learning and I’m ordering
more books for you.” Little by little they were learning, but I felt
they were doing it somehow apart from me.
Sister Dermot and Sister Paulette
took those books and really studied. But Sister Stanislaus and Sister Margaret
would take the mop and the bucket to the hospital to clean it and to talk with
the patients. They would clean the walls with the mops, because it was really
needed, and the people used to watch them, because it was like nothing they
had ever seen. I was very angry because they would not
come to the class. When they stopped coming to the class,
I went to the Bishop. I said, “Bishop, go
to the hospital and tell them, because they are working, not learning.” I
don’t know what he told them, but they came to class for about 2 weeks.
And then they went to buy mops and brooms and soap, and the hospital was changed
in no time.
The Sisters cleaned the hospital and then brought things
from the United States, such as sheets, mattresses,
bandages, syringes and many other things that were
donated to us. The Minister of Health came and gave
the Sisters a public prize. In front of the cameras
and all the people, he said, “The Sisters of
Charity of the Incarnate Word have changed the face of this hospital and I
am giving them the first prize.” He asked everyone in the country
to visit the hospital. The Sisters did a lot of good work for the people.
For me just to see the activity, the way they worked, not for rewards,
but for love, that really penetrated my heart. Not just my heart, but the
hearts of many people.
I don’t like nursing. I am very scared of blood
and needles and all that. From the beginning I knew
this was not for me. One day, Sister Margaret asked
me to go to the hospital with her to see the patients at about 1 o’clock
in the afternoon. In one of the wards, there was a woman tied down to
the bed with ropes. It was so tight that this woman was crying. Sister
Margaret asked her, “Alicia,” that was her name, “what
is wrong, why are you crying?” The nurses said that they tied her
because she was being mean. With all the rings she had on her fingers,
she had been beating up the other patients. She was mentally ill. Sister
Margaret asked her, “What
do you want?” She said, “All I want is to get a drink of
water, but they won’t let me; they are punishing me.” Sister
Margaret asked her if she let her go if she would be nice, and she said, “Yes.” Everybody
was surprised. And then I saw this act of kindness. Sr. Margaret untied
the lady and said, “After you have some water, you will have to
be tied again until the doctors give you medicine.” Sister Margaret
showed the nurses how to give her a shot to calm her. She said that when
the woman woke up she would be fine and she was. Just to see that kindness
really touched me.
When
we left, I asked Sister Margaret, “What
did you do?” She said, “Nothing. I just talked to her in a soft voice.
People don’t need to be shouted at to listen. If you shout, you make them
more nervous. But if you talk to them softly and kindly, they know you love them.” I
thought then that if I could be like Margaret, then I could be a Sister. That
was the one thought in my heart.
Of course I didn't decide to enter
the Congregation just because of that. I would ask in
class, “What
do you do? Where are you from?” When I heard that
they came from far away places, that they were not all
from the States, then I thought, “Why can I not
give of my life for my own people.” God works in
different ways. I came to the States for the first time,
at the request of Mother Fidelis, who was the Superior.
I came and the first thing she did was to send me to
be a nurses’ aide. I had to do some things that
I had never done. I didn't have to use a needle,
but I did see a lot of blood, which I didn't like either, but I think you strengthen yourself that
way.
I decided that I wanted to enter the Congregation and
had to stay in the United States for my own formation.
I could not enter with the first group, because
I didn't know any English. I had to stay in Beaumont to
learn English there. I entered the novitiate on August
15, 1967 with 15 others in my band. I fell in love
with the Congregation. My formation lasted nine years.
In1969, I made my first vows. That was the very first
year that the entering Sisters did not have to wear
a wedding dress when making vows. We were a revolutionary
group. Not only that, we went into the novitiate for two years and after
that we made our annual vows in our own parish. I
made mine in Guatemala and that was a big splash.
Sister Stanislaus put a big announcement all over
the town, and in all the churches. She sent invitations
to people in the schools. People were standing in
church when I made my first vows. They bought a huge,
three-story cake
and asked me to cut it. But it was too tall and I asked someone to help me.
It was a wonderful day. My whole family was there.
In 1973, I made my final vows at
Villa de Matel. My parents couldn’t come. None
of my family came.
I didn't think about being the first Sister from Guatemala at the time. That to me is
not a big deal. I guess it is a grace from God. Whether you’re the first
or the last does not matter as long as you answer the call.
I had always lived in Guatemala.
When you are only in one situation,
you don’t notice many things. But when you are away and then come back, your
eyes are opened. When I went back to Guatemala having lived in the United States,
I saw how many people were begging and how many were on the streets and at
the church begging, lying down and sitting down begging. I asked myself, “What
can I do?”
I decided to get people interested,
to open their eyes and tell them about the poverty.
And I came up with the idea that the poor people living
on the street should have some place to eat and sleep
and live. The first person I talked to about this idea
was Sister Audrey Walsh who supported me.
I wanted to help the homeless, the neglected, the abandoned
of Huehuetenango. Finally, in 1977, with the help of
the Sisters and the people of the community, we opened
the doors of El Amparo de San Jose, a haven for those
abandoned people of Huehuetenango and the surrounding
area. It was a very humble beginning. But we took care
of the people who were suffering. The Sisters are still
taking care of people there today, and El Amparo has
grown.
Our first guests were two elderly women. One of them
had a psychological problem. The doctor told me, “You better get rid of her. She’s the type
that at any moment could take a knife and kill you from the back.” She
had schizophrenia. We called her son, and he said, “I don’t
want my mother. She is really sick. You are helping me.”
One of the people that came was an old man who was so
crippled that he could not walk. We put him in a lower
bunk bed. The first time he came, Brother Martin (MM)
brought him to us and said that he was found locked in
a room. He was sitting in his urine and everything. We
put some blankets under him to help us lift him in the
bed. The man screamed when we touched him, because he
was in horrific pain.
I cried with
him. A group of volunteers from the States helped by taking him to the bathroom
and giving him a great bath. Then they put a bar across the bed to help him
with some exercises. After warm baths and therapy, he
began to do better over the months. I would pray with
him to get well and I asked one of the ladies to make
sure that he got his exercises. He did that and one day we put him in a wheelchair.
He was all smiles in the wheelchair. Then he went back to bed and then back
on the wheelchair to show that he could do it himself.
He was an Indian and couldn’t
speak Spanish, but he was so happy. That man came out of the El Amparo walking
with crooked legs, but it was a joy to see that man walking.
I also remember an 18-year-old boy.
He came to us crawling because he was so sick. He couldn’t
do anything else. He was just crawling. He said, “I
don’t
want a wheelchair, but I know that I can walk if I have
a walker.” So we put an ad and his picture in the
newspaper. A man came from the city and brought an expensive
walker for him. One day we were surprised to see the
boy walking. The doctors said that his sickness was progressive,
but at least after that he enjoyed life for a couple
of years. That man who gave him the walker was crying
and said, “I am glad to see that once in my life
I have done some good.” He said that when he was
7 his mom was so poor that she sent him and his sister
to beg on the streets. He said that he knew what it is
like to be poor and that whenever he could do something
for someone, he did. He said that it was not because
he was rich, but because he had known poverty. At one
time he brought mattresses, beds, pillows, blankets,
sheets, everything. He told me that if I ever need to
buy more, he would help, and he still does. Today this
man is an Associate of our Congregation.
The Associates were founded in Guatemala by Sister
Rose Scanlan. She started them with the help of
Sister Ambrose. When I was asked to take Sister Rose’s
place in ministry there, I took care of them and talked with them. They
liked the Sisters of Charity of the Incarnate Word,
because of what they had seen in the hospitals. They
knew Sister Stanislaus and Sister Margaret, so they
were really happy to support the Sisters. When the Sisters came, they opened
a school for nursing for LVNs. Sr. Dermot graduated about four groups,
and then Sister Rose took over. Sister Paulette trained
lab technicians and some of them have their own labs
now. So the Sisters have really left their marks
there. People really think of them with love. The
Sisters were never full of pride. They went with
a good desire to help, not to put people down, but
to help. People still remember all that.
I would just like to say that I appreciate the help
of the Sisters in the United States. They are always
interested in our country. They are concerned about
it. I am very appreciative of the work you do.
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