That is, more reflections. But first, an update. Yesterday, John and I (Kyle) pretty much vegetated all day and finished season 1 of Arrested Development, which is like visual crack (in terms of addictiveness). Last night we met up with one of Tyler's friends and Alec Olschner and went ourselves to a Colorado Rockies game. And you know, it was fun. $4 is a great price for pro baseball game, although we ended up wandering around and finding better seats that were lower on account of the wind. So I say that I truly appreciate a community event like a baseball game. And I think I'll try and get to a game by our local AAA team back in Lynden. You should, too. Bring some friends and family.
Now, down to business. This morning I woke up thinking about school and how it relates to this delegation. One of the things that struck me most about going to graduation was just how much there seemed to be a theme of peace and justice running throughout the whole event. I recall students being charged to do justice something like three times, and I remember seeking peace being said as well. I can't say I'm that surprised to hear that, especially from the people who I recall saying them, but it did kind take me aback when I thought about it. In a positive way, of course.
But as much as I hear it talked about from administrators and faculty, it's not in a unified voice. It seems like there's a lot of people doing a lot of different things (some big and some small), yet they lack an insitutional synthesis.
It's interesting, the more I give this thought, the more I realized my frustration is a tad misplaced. I think the question that provoked this was one of finding meaning life and work. IT all relates to the question of vocation that I have in fact been presented numerous times in my two years at Whitworth. How indeed do you live a life with meaning? What gives your life meaning?
Last night, watching Arrested Development, one of the characters was on his way to the mall, and he made the comment, "I could buy a new pair of shoes, maybe that will make me feel better!"
LIES.
That may be a little melodramatic, but I know you don't find fulfillment in possessions. If you haven't caught on yet, I despise materialism (even though I struggle with it constantly). I think my reaction here comes from being surrounded by a culture that is driven by material gain and feeling like it has an inescapable chokehold on me.
You know what else? Stewardship (of the earth) is hard in this culture. Last night, we had some Chipotle's for dinner. On the way out, I looked at the (disposable) paper cup I had. If I hadn't taken a straw and top for it, I could have saved some plastic from being used. For that matter, I could have brought my nalgene to put water in instead of using a cup that I would throw away anyway. The point is, our culture is not set up to be sustainable or even to be a good steward of the earth. And that, to me, shows the grip of the kingdom of darkness.
I realize little to nothing of this has to do with immigration, but alas, the thoughts do come out of the experience itself.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Reflections, in Denver
Hello everyone, this is Kyle yet again. We arrived this morning back in Denver. We left Tucson Sunday night and stayed the night in the Phoenix area at John's grandparents' house. We spent the morning with them, and then Tyler and I went to see my uncle and aunt who lived nearby and we also went to the Food for the Hungry headquarters (this is the organization I might be headed to Uganda & Rwanda with fall semester). Then we hustled up to the Grand Canyon and watched the sunset there. (I might add that the terrain around Flagstaff, AZ looks surprisingly like Spokane.) Then we got in the car and made our way north through the night with a couple stops thrown in.
So now I'm sitting here, comfortable, trying to switch myself into vacation mode for the week. This is a lesson the three of us have learned: you NEED a rest after a semester at school, if only a short one. Going from school, finals, packing, etc. straight into the trip was quite fatiguing. That's not to say it was bad in any way, just not ideal. But then, I can't honestly think of ideal circumstances for seeing the things we did.
Now, if you'll bear with me, I need to vent a little.
My view of Mexico has changed substantially. I've only been there once, and that was for the standard mission trip to Mexico that it seems like every young American Christian must do (albeit to Guadalajara instead of Tijuana, and we didn't really build anything). We went, and met poor people, helped drug addicts, presented the gospel in prisons, and all around just had a very nice spiritual time. But we never asked why people were addicted to drugs, or why people were chronically poor in ways that made them turn to robbery that would land them in prison. I guess we all just assumed that's the way it was in poor countries and then massaged our consciences by knowing that we had done so much to help these poor, joyful people and they've given so much back to us. You know, "they have so little and are so joyful, oh how admirable."
Insofar as I know, none of us came back and sold everything we had to claim that sort of joy and faith we perceived. No, we satisfied ourselves to be "stewards" of great resources and then went and drove around in our SUVs and bought our $4 coffees and worshipped in our $1 million churches and so on.
Please don't take any of this personally. I'm just really angry (at myself and my own life, in way ways). And I know it's somewhat cliche, but I'm just trying to let off some steam. And there are plenty of counter-critiques; I make no pretenses at this being particularly logical.
It's so much easier to call myself a steward, because that justifies my having a laptop, email address, bank account, etc. I have to use them to be a good steward, you know? As for SUVs, there is little doubt in my mind that Jesus would not have been a patron of our gas-guzzling monsters. For that matter, the one time I can think of off the top of my head when he was riding anything (when he entered Jerusalem on a donkey), he was crying the whole time (I know, that's a totally irresponsible way to interpret his reason for crying, but it's kind of funny). And coffee? Jesus probably had coffee back in the day. But nowadays, he'd probably ask the question of where it came from and if the people growing and picking it were making enough to survive. And $1 million churches? We met an evangelical pastor in Naco who is building his church building with his own hands, from scratch, with the help of his 15 year old son and congregation.
Anyway, my real frustration is that we always went and had pity and compassion on these poor underprivileged people, but we never asked why that was alright with us. What were the underlying causes? In a globalized economy, we are far more connected than any of us grasp, and the violence that goes into production and transfer of goods is far more prevalent than you want to think. I realized on this delegation that we are much farther from the kingdom of God than I had ever thought. The kingdom of darkness has an inescapable chokehold on almost every aspect of this world, it seems.
Let me specify this a bit. Back under President Clinton, we formed something called the North American Free Trade Agreement. (The Central America Free Trade Agreement has similar effects.) I'm going to horribly underrepresent this because I am still learning about it myself. As always, the wikipedia article is good starting point. In a nutshell, NAFTA allows companies in the US, Canada, and Mexico to transfer raw materials and manufactured goods across their borders without tariffs, etc. Two problems that have come of this:
1. Many manufacturers saw the opportunity to exploit the much cheaper labor (and the absence of effective non-governmental unions) of Mexico, so they picked up and moved. This left workers in the US (and Canada) without work (which, under the protection of strong unions, had generally provided a living wage). Mexico's unions (at least for those factories that were established directly after NAFTA) are government-sponsored, riddled with corruption, and basically just in bed with the manufacturers. They make a mockery of standing up for workers' rights and safety. These factories (known as maquiladoras in the border region) pay on a system of bonuses. Essentially, if you miss a day's work, you lose out on production and attendance bonuses, which account for up to 2/3 of your pay. When you're only taking home about $65 a week, that's a huge loss. (On a side note, Northern Mexico is known for having a better economic well-being than much of the rest of the country; so imagine what everyone else is making.) So who's making the buck? Investors, CEOs, big people, I don't know.
2. Because the US has such a huge farming industry with enormous operations working to maximize efficiency in agriculture, the small farmer in Mexico and Central America can't afford anymore to make a living off agriculture. I met one of these farmers, his name was Miguel, and he was from El Salvador. He grows tomatos, cucumbers, and lettuce back home, but can barely make enough to feed his family, much less try to attain any sort of higher living standard. He and his wife tried to cross twice already into the US, but decided that instead they would return to El Salvador (and a wage of maybe $35 a week). They're now working in the grape fields outside Altar to save up for a bus ticket home.
So why should it surprise anyone that hundreds of thousands of people every year are fleeing north to the US? Even working in low-wage, low-skill jobs, you can make more money in a day than you can in a week back home. Let me balance this by saying that you won't hear many migrants say they want to come to the US (let's not kid ourselves, eh?). There is a very prevalent desire to go, make enough money, return and be able to start or engage in some sort of small business in the home country. Likewise, let me also balance this by saying that it's not all the US's fault. Mexico and Central America have notoriously corrupt governments, which helps nothing. In fact, Mexico's Federal Police are known as being the most exploitative of Central Americans coming through the country. I heard one story where one of these policemen was inspecting a Central American's papers, found them in order, ripped them up in front of the person, and then asked where their papers were. That's ridiculous and totally unacceptable. My point is, the corruption runs deep.
So let me see if I can bring this full circle. I'm pissed that when I went to Mexico on my conscience-massaging mission trip none of us had the attitude that it's not alright for poverty to be so prevalent when we are so affluent ourselves. Someone on our delegation pointed out that there are so many believers of Jesus in this country, but so few followers. I can believe in and pray to Jesus, but there is clearly far more to it than that. The gospel has to actually affect the way I live my life, and that means more than not having sex before marriage. Anyway, I'm hungry and accursedly rich by the world's standards. On that note, I'm going to head to lunch and recommend everyone read Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger by Ron Sider. He gives a great evangelical commentary on all these issues and reading it ought to change or at least affect your life in some way. Love,
Kyle
So now I'm sitting here, comfortable, trying to switch myself into vacation mode for the week. This is a lesson the three of us have learned: you NEED a rest after a semester at school, if only a short one. Going from school, finals, packing, etc. straight into the trip was quite fatiguing. That's not to say it was bad in any way, just not ideal. But then, I can't honestly think of ideal circumstances for seeing the things we did.
Now, if you'll bear with me, I need to vent a little.
My view of Mexico has changed substantially. I've only been there once, and that was for the standard mission trip to Mexico that it seems like every young American Christian must do (albeit to Guadalajara instead of Tijuana, and we didn't really build anything). We went, and met poor people, helped drug addicts, presented the gospel in prisons, and all around just had a very nice spiritual time. But we never asked why people were addicted to drugs, or why people were chronically poor in ways that made them turn to robbery that would land them in prison. I guess we all just assumed that's the way it was in poor countries and then massaged our consciences by knowing that we had done so much to help these poor, joyful people and they've given so much back to us. You know, "they have so little and are so joyful, oh how admirable."
Insofar as I know, none of us came back and sold everything we had to claim that sort of joy and faith we perceived. No, we satisfied ourselves to be "stewards" of great resources and then went and drove around in our SUVs and bought our $4 coffees and worshipped in our $1 million churches and so on.
Please don't take any of this personally. I'm just really angry (at myself and my own life, in way ways). And I know it's somewhat cliche, but I'm just trying to let off some steam. And there are plenty of counter-critiques; I make no pretenses at this being particularly logical.
It's so much easier to call myself a steward, because that justifies my having a laptop, email address, bank account, etc. I have to use them to be a good steward, you know? As for SUVs, there is little doubt in my mind that Jesus would not have been a patron of our gas-guzzling monsters. For that matter, the one time I can think of off the top of my head when he was riding anything (when he entered Jerusalem on a donkey), he was crying the whole time (I know, that's a totally irresponsible way to interpret his reason for crying, but it's kind of funny). And coffee? Jesus probably had coffee back in the day. But nowadays, he'd probably ask the question of where it came from and if the people growing and picking it were making enough to survive. And $1 million churches? We met an evangelical pastor in Naco who is building his church building with his own hands, from scratch, with the help of his 15 year old son and congregation.
Anyway, my real frustration is that we always went and had pity and compassion on these poor underprivileged people, but we never asked why that was alright with us. What were the underlying causes? In a globalized economy, we are far more connected than any of us grasp, and the violence that goes into production and transfer of goods is far more prevalent than you want to think. I realized on this delegation that we are much farther from the kingdom of God than I had ever thought. The kingdom of darkness has an inescapable chokehold on almost every aspect of this world, it seems.
Let me specify this a bit. Back under President Clinton, we formed something called the North American Free Trade Agreement. (The Central America Free Trade Agreement has similar effects.) I'm going to horribly underrepresent this because I am still learning about it myself. As always, the wikipedia article is good starting point. In a nutshell, NAFTA allows companies in the US, Canada, and Mexico to transfer raw materials and manufactured goods across their borders without tariffs, etc. Two problems that have come of this:
1. Many manufacturers saw the opportunity to exploit the much cheaper labor (and the absence of effective non-governmental unions) of Mexico, so they picked up and moved. This left workers in the US (and Canada) without work (which, under the protection of strong unions, had generally provided a living wage). Mexico's unions (at least for those factories that were established directly after NAFTA) are government-sponsored, riddled with corruption, and basically just in bed with the manufacturers. They make a mockery of standing up for workers' rights and safety. These factories (known as maquiladoras in the border region) pay on a system of bonuses. Essentially, if you miss a day's work, you lose out on production and attendance bonuses, which account for up to 2/3 of your pay. When you're only taking home about $65 a week, that's a huge loss. (On a side note, Northern Mexico is known for having a better economic well-being than much of the rest of the country; so imagine what everyone else is making.) So who's making the buck? Investors, CEOs, big people, I don't know.
2. Because the US has such a huge farming industry with enormous operations working to maximize efficiency in agriculture, the small farmer in Mexico and Central America can't afford anymore to make a living off agriculture. I met one of these farmers, his name was Miguel, and he was from El Salvador. He grows tomatos, cucumbers, and lettuce back home, but can barely make enough to feed his family, much less try to attain any sort of higher living standard. He and his wife tried to cross twice already into the US, but decided that instead they would return to El Salvador (and a wage of maybe $35 a week). They're now working in the grape fields outside Altar to save up for a bus ticket home.
So why should it surprise anyone that hundreds of thousands of people every year are fleeing north to the US? Even working in low-wage, low-skill jobs, you can make more money in a day than you can in a week back home. Let me balance this by saying that you won't hear many migrants say they want to come to the US (let's not kid ourselves, eh?). There is a very prevalent desire to go, make enough money, return and be able to start or engage in some sort of small business in the home country. Likewise, let me also balance this by saying that it's not all the US's fault. Mexico and Central America have notoriously corrupt governments, which helps nothing. In fact, Mexico's Federal Police are known as being the most exploitative of Central Americans coming through the country. I heard one story where one of these policemen was inspecting a Central American's papers, found them in order, ripped them up in front of the person, and then asked where their papers were. That's ridiculous and totally unacceptable. My point is, the corruption runs deep.
So let me see if I can bring this full circle. I'm pissed that when I went to Mexico on my conscience-massaging mission trip none of us had the attitude that it's not alright for poverty to be so prevalent when we are so affluent ourselves. Someone on our delegation pointed out that there are so many believers of Jesus in this country, but so few followers. I can believe in and pray to Jesus, but there is clearly far more to it than that. The gospel has to actually affect the way I live my life, and that means more than not having sex before marriage. Anyway, I'm hungry and accursedly rich by the world's standards. On that note, I'm going to head to lunch and recommend everyone read Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger by Ron Sider. He gives a great evangelical commentary on all these issues and reading it ought to change or at least affect your life in some way. Love,
Kyle
Friday, June 1, 2007
...
This is a worker at Just Coffee, a cooperative that works with farmers Chiapas to help give alternatives for people who would otherwise probably migrate north. SUPPORTING THEM HELPS STOP IMMIGRATION!
...
Myself and Rachel, a teammate, with the Border Patrol agent about to pull us over in the background.
...
This is a casa de huesped, of which there are over 90 in Altar. They charge $4-6 per person per night to stay in terrible conditions. If you notice, the racks they are sleeping on look remarkably
like those found in concentration camps.
Pictures: Proof we are Alive
The three of us sitting around in Benjamin Hill waiting for the train to come.
Back in Tucson: a Brief Narrative of the Past Week
Kyle here.
We got back into Tucson yesterday evening after spending about a week on the road in Douglas (AZ), Agua Prieta, Benjamin Hill, and Altar (all in Sonora). A brief round up of the week's activities include staffing a migrant resource center for migrants who have just been returned to Mexico by the Border Patrol, meeting with community organizers in Agua Prieta, visiting kitchens for migrants traveling north, meeting with a priest who was heavily involved in the Sanctuary movement of the 1980s who now works with migrants, and we observed as migrants got off the train in Benjamin Hill to rest on their way north. In Altar, we watched migrants get directly off buses from the south and look around a plaza for their next step in the journey, went to a house where migrants pay $4-6/night waiting for the last leg north, and we slept in a migrant shelter maintained by the Catholic church.
Yesterday was probably the most intense of the week. We drove north out of Altar towards Sasabe (I would recommend getting on Google Earth or a similar program to get an idea of where these places are) on a 60 mile long dirt road. Along the side of this road you can see the burnt out shells of vans with many, many bullet holes in them. Daily, hundreds of migrants drive north on this dirt road in vans that make the Altar-Sasabe trip with 20-40 people packed into what is really a 15 person van. The drug cartels charge a fee to the van drivers. The shot up, burnt out vans are the ones whose drivers didn't want to pay. Recently, there has been a spate of violence due to the drug trade, with something like 22 people (including police) murdered in one case.
So when we came to a checkpoint about 5 miles south of Sasabe, I was a tad worried. There were about eight heavily armed soldiers with a Hummer sitting beside the road. We pulled up and a young soldier told Rick, our van driver and team leader, that we all had to get out so they could inspect us and the luggage (presumably for weapons). Rick wasn't have any of it, and citing the recent violence, asked for some form of ID or a good reason we could trust them. (This conversation was completely in Spanish, and I was one of the few within earshot who could understand.) I was by that time quite nervous because of the whole situation. Eventually an officer came over, and the conversation dragged on while the rest of us engaged the young soldier standing in our doorway with an assault rifle hanging off his shoulder. Everything turned out okay, but for a while, I wasn't so assured.
Eventually we made it to the border, crossed without a problem, and were promptly pulled over by the Border Patrol within five miles. Instead of "probable cause," the Border Patrol only has to articulate "reasonable suspicion" to pull someone over. In this case, Rick assumed it was because the van was a rental and the woman riding in the front seat could vaguely pass for a Latina. Anyway, after following us a good 4-5 minutes, the agent finally put on his lights and got us to the side. We were in a bit of a hurry, so Rick didn't insist on some of the nuances that come with your rights. For instance, an agent is supposed to articulate their "reasonable suspicion" before asking to inspect a vehicle. He failed do this, but again, because of the the time constraint we simply went with the flow. We did have a bit of fun, though. When asked if all occupants were US citizens, Rick replied, "all but one." He then waited a few moments before adding that he was Swedish.
Anyway, that was our second direct run-in with the law yesterday. We passed a huge National Guard checkpoint a few miles later. Now, this was somewhat unnerving for me. When I'm in a developing country, I expect, or at least am not surprised to see a military checkpoint. But in the United States? That was pretty unsettling. And we came across a Border Patrol & National Guard checkpoint heading north from Nogales later on in the day. Again, it didn't sit well with me.
We arrived in Nogales in the early afternoon to volunteer at the No More Deaths tent for the afternoon. Here migrants who have just been returned to Mexico can come for some food and water, and get any blisters or scrapes they have treated. According to Border Patrol standards, migrants are supposed to be given food and water if they are held for more than 6 hours, but it seems to be the exception rather than the rule when this is actually the case. (Though I must interject that for the most part, migrants say they are treated well by the Border Patrol agents when in custody.) I've watched people scarf down burritos after having not eaten for two days.
Then a man told me that a women speaking on the pay phone across the street was missing a child. I told Rick and he and another volunteer went into action. It turns out that during the night, this woman and her for children, mother-in-law, and brother-in-law were crossing with a group. The coyotes (smugglers) were getting angry because she was unable to keep up with the kids, and nobody wanted to help her with them. Eventually, they got split up into two groups somehow, and when the Border Patrol surprised them, they got split up. This woman came into the No More Deaths tent with three children. The oldest, an eight year old boy, had been lost in the night with the mother- and brother-in-law, and nobody knew where they were.
Imagine that. Think of losing your oldest child in the attempt to find a better life. The wisdom of crossing with four children aside, try to grasp the desperation that would lead to you make that choice. And then try to grasp the anguish of having something so terrible as losing your child in the middle of the southern Arizona desert. There isn't much hope that the kid will remain alive. Adults die out there daily. Anyway, Rick and his counterpart across the border were calling all the people they knew: Border Patrol, consulates, Grupos Beta (a Mexican governmental organization trying to keep migrants safe and provide them ways to return home/south if they choose), and others. Though minors are often lost in the desert, it is quite an unusual thing for an eight year old to get lost. A full-blown Border Patrol search was waiting in the wings as we went into last night.
Long story made short, Rick and a few of our team arrived at No More Deaths' office in Nogales to the news that the boy, mother-, and brother-in-law had shown up in Altar. After getting separated in the desert, they happened to by with the coyotes, who took them back to Altar. But again, reflect on the desperation that would lead you to such a decision. Because apparently the next step for this family is to go to another part of the border, where the husband (who lives in the Seattle/Tacoma area) will meet them and try to help them across.
That was a relief, but the rest of us didn't find out until this afternoon. Tyler and I spent the day making little 2' x 1' white crosses for an action we're going to do tomorrow. We'll be following the Wackenhut buses that have been contracted out by the government to collect migrants as the Border Patrol captures them, take them to a Border Patrol station for processing, and then return them to the border. The problem here is that by contracting out this function, an element of transparency is lost in the process of holding migrants. Rick was telling a story about Wackenhut over dinner tonight about how they lost their contract to do security for the Department of Homeland Security building in DC over a horribly mishandled anthrax scare. So they lost their contract to keep the DHS safe while gaining another contract to keep migrants safe. That makes sense.
So tomorrow we'll be following one of the buses on its daily route. We'll try and offer food and water to the migrants (and we'll probably be denied). We'll have signs indicating solidarity with the migrants on the bus. And we'll be erecting Mexican-style shrines at each point where the buses stops, each with three crosses that say "NINOS" (children), "MADRES Y PADRES" (mothers and fathers), and "CUANTOS MAS?" (how many more?).
Anyway, enough for now. I might try and upload some pictures or something. Leave us a comment, let us know how you're doing. We'll be here until Sunday, and then the three of us head north either that night or Monday. We'll probably be in Denver by Wednesday. But look for more posts on here in the meantime. Sorry for the absence, but we didn't have internet in Mexico. Much love to all who read this,
Kyle
We got back into Tucson yesterday evening after spending about a week on the road in Douglas (AZ), Agua Prieta, Benjamin Hill, and Altar (all in Sonora). A brief round up of the week's activities include staffing a migrant resource center for migrants who have just been returned to Mexico by the Border Patrol, meeting with community organizers in Agua Prieta, visiting kitchens for migrants traveling north, meeting with a priest who was heavily involved in the Sanctuary movement of the 1980s who now works with migrants, and we observed as migrants got off the train in Benjamin Hill to rest on their way north. In Altar, we watched migrants get directly off buses from the south and look around a plaza for their next step in the journey, went to a house where migrants pay $4-6/night waiting for the last leg north, and we slept in a migrant shelter maintained by the Catholic church.
Yesterday was probably the most intense of the week. We drove north out of Altar towards Sasabe (I would recommend getting on Google Earth or a similar program to get an idea of where these places are) on a 60 mile long dirt road. Along the side of this road you can see the burnt out shells of vans with many, many bullet holes in them. Daily, hundreds of migrants drive north on this dirt road in vans that make the Altar-Sasabe trip with 20-40 people packed into what is really a 15 person van. The drug cartels charge a fee to the van drivers. The shot up, burnt out vans are the ones whose drivers didn't want to pay. Recently, there has been a spate of violence due to the drug trade, with something like 22 people (including police) murdered in one case.
So when we came to a checkpoint about 5 miles south of Sasabe, I was a tad worried. There were about eight heavily armed soldiers with a Hummer sitting beside the road. We pulled up and a young soldier told Rick, our van driver and team leader, that we all had to get out so they could inspect us and the luggage (presumably for weapons). Rick wasn't have any of it, and citing the recent violence, asked for some form of ID or a good reason we could trust them. (This conversation was completely in Spanish, and I was one of the few within earshot who could understand.) I was by that time quite nervous because of the whole situation. Eventually an officer came over, and the conversation dragged on while the rest of us engaged the young soldier standing in our doorway with an assault rifle hanging off his shoulder. Everything turned out okay, but for a while, I wasn't so assured.
Eventually we made it to the border, crossed without a problem, and were promptly pulled over by the Border Patrol within five miles. Instead of "probable cause," the Border Patrol only has to articulate "reasonable suspicion" to pull someone over. In this case, Rick assumed it was because the van was a rental and the woman riding in the front seat could vaguely pass for a Latina. Anyway, after following us a good 4-5 minutes, the agent finally put on his lights and got us to the side. We were in a bit of a hurry, so Rick didn't insist on some of the nuances that come with your rights. For instance, an agent is supposed to articulate their "reasonable suspicion" before asking to inspect a vehicle. He failed do this, but again, because of the the time constraint we simply went with the flow. We did have a bit of fun, though. When asked if all occupants were US citizens, Rick replied, "all but one." He then waited a few moments before adding that he was Swedish.
Anyway, that was our second direct run-in with the law yesterday. We passed a huge National Guard checkpoint a few miles later. Now, this was somewhat unnerving for me. When I'm in a developing country, I expect, or at least am not surprised to see a military checkpoint. But in the United States? That was pretty unsettling. And we came across a Border Patrol & National Guard checkpoint heading north from Nogales later on in the day. Again, it didn't sit well with me.
We arrived in Nogales in the early afternoon to volunteer at the No More Deaths tent for the afternoon. Here migrants who have just been returned to Mexico can come for some food and water, and get any blisters or scrapes they have treated. According to Border Patrol standards, migrants are supposed to be given food and water if they are held for more than 6 hours, but it seems to be the exception rather than the rule when this is actually the case. (Though I must interject that for the most part, migrants say they are treated well by the Border Patrol agents when in custody.) I've watched people scarf down burritos after having not eaten for two days.
Then a man told me that a women speaking on the pay phone across the street was missing a child. I told Rick and he and another volunteer went into action. It turns out that during the night, this woman and her for children, mother-in-law, and brother-in-law were crossing with a group. The coyotes (smugglers) were getting angry because she was unable to keep up with the kids, and nobody wanted to help her with them. Eventually, they got split up into two groups somehow, and when the Border Patrol surprised them, they got split up. This woman came into the No More Deaths tent with three children. The oldest, an eight year old boy, had been lost in the night with the mother- and brother-in-law, and nobody knew where they were.
Imagine that. Think of losing your oldest child in the attempt to find a better life. The wisdom of crossing with four children aside, try to grasp the desperation that would lead to you make that choice. And then try to grasp the anguish of having something so terrible as losing your child in the middle of the southern Arizona desert. There isn't much hope that the kid will remain alive. Adults die out there daily. Anyway, Rick and his counterpart across the border were calling all the people they knew: Border Patrol, consulates, Grupos Beta (a Mexican governmental organization trying to keep migrants safe and provide them ways to return home/south if they choose), and others. Though minors are often lost in the desert, it is quite an unusual thing for an eight year old to get lost. A full-blown Border Patrol search was waiting in the wings as we went into last night.
Long story made short, Rick and a few of our team arrived at No More Deaths' office in Nogales to the news that the boy, mother-, and brother-in-law had shown up in Altar. After getting separated in the desert, they happened to by with the coyotes, who took them back to Altar. But again, reflect on the desperation that would lead you to such a decision. Because apparently the next step for this family is to go to another part of the border, where the husband (who lives in the Seattle/Tacoma area) will meet them and try to help them across.
That was a relief, but the rest of us didn't find out until this afternoon. Tyler and I spent the day making little 2' x 1' white crosses for an action we're going to do tomorrow. We'll be following the Wackenhut buses that have been contracted out by the government to collect migrants as the Border Patrol captures them, take them to a Border Patrol station for processing, and then return them to the border. The problem here is that by contracting out this function, an element of transparency is lost in the process of holding migrants. Rick was telling a story about Wackenhut over dinner tonight about how they lost their contract to do security for the Department of Homeland Security building in DC over a horribly mishandled anthrax scare. So they lost their contract to keep the DHS safe while gaining another contract to keep migrants safe. That makes sense.
So tomorrow we'll be following one of the buses on its daily route. We'll try and offer food and water to the migrants (and we'll probably be denied). We'll have signs indicating solidarity with the migrants on the bus. And we'll be erecting Mexican-style shrines at each point where the buses stops, each with three crosses that say "NINOS" (children), "MADRES Y PADRES" (mothers and fathers), and "CUANTOS MAS?" (how many more?).
Anyway, enough for now. I might try and upload some pictures or something. Leave us a comment, let us know how you're doing. We'll be here until Sunday, and then the three of us head north either that night or Monday. We'll probably be in Denver by Wednesday. But look for more posts on here in the meantime. Sorry for the absence, but we didn't have internet in Mexico. Much love to all who read this,
Kyle
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