He said we were brothers.

I was sitting on a concrete slab in the middle of the dirt courtyard at his orphanage and it was getting dark and cold. It would be the last visit to the old orphanage for myself and the 30-some participants of the Alternative Spring Break trip to Matamoros, Mexico.

And after five days of working on the construction of a new orphanage, we were a little tired.

But we wanted to say goodbye to the nearly 100 children we were building for. So there I was, dirty, hungry and tired talking to a boy named John who I would have guessed was 11, but said he was 16.

He was listening to the portable CD player of a fellow Alternative Spring Breaker and asked, in English, if his brother could listen, too. This was his second time calling another orphan “brother” so I asked, in Spanish, how many brothers he had.

He pointed to the sky and answered in Spanish, “Under Christ we are all brothers.”

And he pointed to the child next to him and said in English, “He is my brother” and he pointed to the owner of the CD player and said, “He is my brother,” and he pointed at me and said, “You are my brother.” Then he laughed at his use of the wrong word. But the point was clear.

I can’t say I’ve done a lot of things in my life that have truly benefited others. There are a lot of things I’m proud of, including my job at The State News, school and friendships, but there’s not a lot on my résumé that has impacted anyone but me.

I’ve always been able to justify my self-centeredness by my age. In college we’re allowed unusually high levels of narcissism. And though I’ve always considered myself a good person, a humanitarian I am not.

So last week, for maybe the first time in a long time, I did something that in theory wasn’t for me. I gave up a spring break that could have been an alcohol-filled blur in exchange for a sober, sunburnt one that included building a part of an orphanage in an economically depressed area of Mexico. On paper, what I did was not that great. As a group, we completed almost four dormitories that will one day each hold 20 children. I was by no means the hardest worker and there’s a lot more to do - more dorms, a cafeteria, bathhouses and offices that need to be built.

Some might say that in the long run, what I did didn’t really matter; that building a few houses was meaningless compared to all Mexico needs and that giving a few toys and articles of clothing to a few children won’t really help them in the long run.

A week ago I might have agreed.

I was skeptical, as were many on my trip, going into the project. Thirty people (many of whom know nothing about construction or even how to pound a nail) trying to build four houses in five days - are you kidding me? And as far as working with the children - I made it clear from the beginning that I’m not a big fan of them. In fact, under normal circumstances I go out of my way to avoid them. My friends joke that they will never let me watch their children - fine with me.

So last Sunday I walked into the cramped yard of the orphanage not knowing what to expect - definitely not expecting to be swarmed with children, eager to introduce themselves and shake my hand; little girls in their best dresses raising their arms for me to pick them up. They didn’t care who I was or why I was there. They just wanted my attention. And though most of them never knew my name, I have never felt so appreciated.

And as far as the building goes, maybe four houses isn’t a lot, but it’s four more than were there a week ago.

I’m not looking down on anyone who chose to spend their spring break laying on a beach drinking margaritas. I’ve been drunk in more countries than the average person ever visits. Maybe I’m just realizing what the rest of the population already knew - helping others is a pretty good feeling.

And in January, when the orphans move into their new home, they probably won’t remember the blonde with the green bandana who spent one week in March building a few houses. The inside wall of the house we all signed will have been covered with drywall, and the toys we gave the children will be worn-out.

But I and the rest of the Matamoros Alternative Spring Break group will remember that for one week we put aside our schoolwork, jobs and East Lansing life to do something good for some children we may never see again.

After all, we are all brothers.

Mary Sell, State News editor in chief, can be reached at sellmary@msu.edu.