In the shadow of ICE, a St. Paul neighborhood store steps in to feed its community

On a normal Sunday, the aisles of Mexican grocery store Bymore Supermercado in St. Paul are crowded. Families shop together with parents calling out dinner ideas and kids tossing snacks into the cart.

“In our culture, it’s like family bonding time. Mom goes with all the kids,” said bookkeeper Vanessa Machuca.

But last weekend, even the bright papel picado and piñatas hanging from the ceiling couldn’t fill the emptiness. Foot traffic plunged to a quarter of Bymore’s typical volume. Families stayed inside their homes, afraid that a quick trip for eggs could put them in the path of federal immigration agents.

So the store started going to them.

As U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s presence has become more visible across the Twin Cities, Bymore’s owner, 61-year-old Ramiro Hernandez, has turned his small Mexican grocery into an impromptu delivery operation for immigrant families too frightened to step outside.

“We don’t care how much you need, as long as you get it,” said employee Blanca Garcia, 57, as she shopped for a customer’s delivery order. “We don’t care how far you are.”

No delivery fees. No minimum order amount. If a family calls for food, someone at Bymore gets in the car.

“When I came, it was like paradise,” he said. “I feel like I am home.”

Over time, Bymore has become more than a supermarket. It’s a gathering place — where people look for the brands they grew up with in Mexico and Central America, run into neighbors, and swap news in the aisles. Families come for fresh-cut meat, piles of chiles and spices, plantains and bananas, and cheeses from Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua and Mexico.

The store also maintains a loyalty program with about 5,000 customers enrolled over the last decade. When fear began spreading last week, that database became a lifeline. Machuca used it to send out a message: Bymore would begin offering free deliveries for anyone who needed them.

“We wanted to include the whole community,” she said. “We didn’t want to leave anybody out.”

Machuca has worked at Bymore for 15 years. Her husband was deported to Michoacán, Mexico, during the Obama administration and spent more than a decade away before returning.

The fear now gripping Bymore’s shoppers is familiar to her. In many families, she said, the only person still leaving home is the one who absolutely must work to keep everyone afloat.

At first, Hernandez and his adult children handled the delivery routes themselves.

“He took it upon himself and his kids,” Machuca said. “We didn’t want to put any of our employees at risk for anything.” They loaded their cars with orders and drove across the metro, taking cash or EBT at the door.

As word spread, volunteers began showing up, many from outside the neighborhood after seeing posts circulating on social media.

By Wednesday, three or four volunteers were rotating through Bymore, helping staff complete deliveries between 10 a.m. and 7 p.m. The store is open 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., and if orders come in later, family or staff still try to get them out.

“I don’t even want to think about it because it hurts me,” he said, tears gathering in his eyes.

“There is no limit if they need help,” he said. “If we can go, we go.”

The crisis has reached into another part of Bymore’s role: faith.

Since it opened, the store has hosted an annual church service for Our Lady of Guadalupe, a major celebration in the Mexican Catholic tradition. Each year, a Dominican priest flies in from Massachusetts to give Mass late on Dec. 11, as worshippers gather the night before the Dec. 12 feast day.

This year, Hernandez canceled it.

The priest still planned to come Wednesday, but Hernandez didn’t want to put him — or his shoppers — in the middle of a highly visible gathering.

“It made me feel worse,” he said, imagining drawing people to one place where they could be targeted by ICE.

Even so, Hernandez hopes the store’s actions inspire others in safer positions to step forward.

“One thing that I want is to inspire different people to get together and help people who are more in need,” he said.

Gratitude from customers keeps him going.

Sometimes, Hernandez admits, it’s overwhelming. Business is down, and bills still come due. Machuca isn’t sure how long Bymore can keep delivering food for free.