We left Tucson, AZ last Saturday morning, and arrived in Douglas, AZ in the afternoon. On our way to Douglas we stopped for two hours in Ambos Nogales (meaning both Nogales), where we experienced our first taste of Mexico. We crossed the border and ambled around for two hours in small groups; purchasing food and souvenirs at our leisure before crossing back into the U.S. and driving the rest of the way.
In Douglas we met with those from Frontera De Christo who would be guiding us for the week, then we crossed into Mexico yet again.
Over the week we spent each filled day traveling around Agua Prieta hearing from organizations about their work with migrants. We heard from CAME which is an organization that feeds and houses migrants from both directions; those heading north to cross the border, and those who have been deported and are traveling home. While staying there, people are informed about the dangers of crossing, and are advised not to, though not forced. We also visited CRREDA which is an organization working with addicts who are working to overcome their vices. CRREDA does not receive funding from the government or from any church/faith based organizations, instead they do community service to provide food, shelter, and other funding for the current 78 (I think) members. While we were there the youngest member was an 11 year old boy who was a self-proclaimed alcoholic. He voluntarily entered the program for fear that continued use would lead to something even more harmful. What kind of life leads an 11 year old to alcoholism?My heart ached for him.
CRREDA was an inspiring organization - every 15 days the men go into the desert with trucks bearing huge tanks of water. They have several smaller tanks placed on a well known migrant trail, and they must go out and fill them once or twice a month. Every so often some of the men camp out with the water for several days, when migrants come along the trail they too advise them of the dangers the desert brings.
We walked in the Sonoran desert along this same migrant trail. We walked in an often used dry riverbed, where the sand was deep and our feet sank, making walking difficult. It only took 20 minutes to get to the wall from where we started, but already I was tired, hot, sweaty, thirsty, and grouchy. I can imagine how people can walk for hours in conditions where the temperature is above 100 degrees, even in the dark, and they are forced to walk blindly through the thorn bushes I so gingerly avoided. What kind of poverty forces someone to leave their beloved homeland to trudge through these hell-like conditions to enter a land where people reject them? My heart ached for them.
That same night we participated in a vigil. Tommy Bassett (one of the Frontera-ers) arrived with crates of white crosses in the back of his pickup. Each cross held a name, a birth date, and a death date, except for the crosses which simply said "no identification". Each of us carried several crosses, and as we walked the border the leader of the line would hold up their cross and call out the name. We would each call back, loudly, "PRESENTE!". Then we would walk past the person holding the cross, to sidewalk squares later, the next person would call out their name... and so on and so forth. There were hundreds of crosses laying on the curb when we were finished; each representing a person who had died in the desert while crossing. hundreds. Some were young, 18 years old, some were older in their 50s. This vigil was probably the most meaningful experience of the week for me.
As I walked down the sidewalk I looked down, I was cradling the crosses as though they were babies. As I read the name on the top cross, it hit me. This was somebody's baby. Someone had carried this person, had loved them, had cleaned their scrapes and cooked for them. Maybe this person had babies of their own - babies that they though the world of, children who they couldn't provide for with the Mexican economy. Maybe that was why they were crossing. My mind raced with these possibilities... each of these names represented someones loved one. Where were these families now, who was providing for them now? What if they never learned what had happened to their son/father/brother/sister/mother/daughter. What did they feel when they did learn? My heart ached for them. I felt weighed down by the weight of their grief. What if it had been my family? I think of it every day... especially because even now there are migrants in the desert - in the hot days and freezing nights... will they all make it? Or will someone else lose their baby?
All of that, with the exception of CAME was in one day - Tuesday. Obviously I can't sit here and type about everything, and I am sure that you wouldn't want to read the would-be product.
Some other things we did:
Visit a maquiladora (factory)
Live for a day on a maquila factory (12 of us had 270 pesos total, which is about $25, for three meals).
Visit the border patrol
Visit with a Christian border patrol agent
Attend a church service & eat lunch with Lirio de Los Valles (Lily of the Valley church)
Visit the migrant resource center
Eat dinner with nuns
Learn about New Tribes Mission Aviation
Eat in community of DouglaPrieta and learn about their search for self-sufficiency
Visit an electronics recycling warehouse
Visit Cafe Justo
Learn about Border Action
... and probably other things that I can't think of right now, because I don't have the list with me.
It was a very full week, which helped me sleep well... ish. We stayed at the Nueva Esperanza (New Hope) Community Center in Agua Prieta. Though the outside temperature is in the 70's or 80's during the day - it easily drops to around 30 when the sun went down. The community center relied on several small wall heaters to keep the air inside warm...ish. We slept on airmatresses on the floor, curled up under blankets for whatever warmth we could find. It wasn't uncomfortably cold, but it certainly wasn't what I would call comfortable. Especially on Monday night when, just as we were climbing into bed all the heaters shut off - we had run out of the gas used to run them. That night was pretty chilly.
So - that is a taste of our week, it is missing much, but you will just have to ask me in 3 months... and I'll tell you about it then.
For now we are back to the same hotel in Tucson - relaxing until our plane leaves on Tuesday for Guatemala. We don't have any agenda while we are here this time, except to finish our reading and journaling assignments - which the majority of us have been working on out by the pool - in shorts and tank tops, maybe jumping into the water to cool off. Because it is hot. Jealous yet? : D
I am working on a list of things that I am thankful for - some more seriously than others. But I thought I'd share that too... while I'm at it.
1. The privileges/rights I have because of my skin color/ citizenship.
2. Toilet paper (AND toilets where you can flush the toilet paper... which are not found in Mexico)
3. Singing games during long drives
4. That Lucas is along on the trip to keep me smiling
5. The weather in Arizona (and Mexico)
6. Hot tubs after a long week
7. SHOWERS (especially hot ones with good water pressure)
8. Beds and pillows
9. Green plants/grass
10.
11.
12.
13. Mexican hot dog stands... they seriously have the best hot dogs I've ever tasted.
Our last night in Agua Prieta Tommy (mentioned above) took us out to Clemente's hot dog stand... I ordered "un con todos" (one with everything) which included: a potato bun, a hot dog wrapped in bacon,mayonnaise, fried onions, raw onions, red & green chili, baked beans, guacamole, tomato, and mustard. All for a little over a dollar. Delicious.
Luckily for you, that's all for now :)
Vaya con Dios.
-Jenn
