Apparently two weeks have gone by since I last wrote, if I'm counting my days correctly...there's this wonderful lack of concern here when it comes to knowing the day or time, and I love it.
Since I wrote last, we've spent more time hiking the trails, leaving water and finding people, but the importance of our work seems (in my head) like it increased. We've run into so many migrants these past days, as the weather grows hotter and the monsoon rains have not yet replenished the land (a few showers just started a day or two ago). So how do I convey what I'm thinking to you all? I'm going to try, forgive my falterings.
The weekend before the fourth of July was the hardest for me yet, most likely because we met so many people in just a few days, all with their own stories to break your heart. And honestly, as I'm trying to piece this together and put it out there for you to read, I'm not sure which day was which or which person we met first or if this woman was really a week ago and that man was actually two days prior. In the end though, it's not the timing that matters...
One group had two young girls, 11 and 15 yers old; the older girl had just turned 15 in the desert (keep in mind that 15 is such an important birthday for a girl from Mexico, and she passed it in the desert, sick). The father was accompanying the two girls, and they had paired up with two other men at one point or another. When we come across men or women, the emotional impact is always there as we consider what they are going through, but to see two young girls trying to cross the desert is an entirely different wave of emotion. No part of me can imagine being 11 or 15 and making the journey through this desert with little water or food, unable to understand completely why it's necessary to do so. A little rest and food improved their health and such, which is always a good way to leave things, but I'm still figuring out how much those girls impacted me (or perhaps I should say, the knowledge of those girls, as I hardly met them...)
Just yesterday we met a woman in the desert who absolutely floored me. The only reason we came across her is because we randomly decided to go off trail, and after three or four impulse decisions to take this turn or go up this hill, she responded to our calls about having food and water. She was sitting alone on a hillside under a mesquite tree, with a half-full jug of brown water from a cattle tank. Bri, Cyril and I walked up to her point and began to ask questions in the little Spanish that we had collectively. 23 years old, she had been alone for four days after her group left her (that's where the danger lies, when individuals get left behind), had not eaten for somewhere between four and six days, and have been in the desert for somewhere around 12 or 13 days. Her feet were blistered all across the toes and on the heels, she had bruises on her legs from falling so much because of her cramping legs, and fireants had bitten her lips in the middle of the night. And yet, she proved to be such a resilient woman, cracking jokes with us as we began to clean her blisters and give her food. Honestly, she may be one of the strongest women I have ever met (and keep in mind, I have grown up around a ridiculous amount of very strong women). She had such a spirit, and I am positive that such a soul can do nothing but succeed, no matter how difficult her journey is.
I have no concrete conclusion for this post, because that would mean I've come to some sort of resolution in my mind about all that I'm seeing and doing, and that's simply not the case.
Shalom.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Much to Tell~
These last two weeks have gone by fast and there is so much to share.
Rachel and I mobilized the mobile camp and went to hang out more in the middle of no where: right at the base of the Cierro Colorado Mountains, with the full(ish) moon. Camping out here would enable us to reach places faster in the morning. We mapped many new trails, which will be rated and then allow volunteers to know which ones to patrol in the future. Our last morning out we rose at 4:30 to finish before the sun got too harsh but ran into a man who was in desperate need of help. The entire ball of his foot was skinless. Once border patrol arrived they lectured us for about 45 minutes on... I really don't know what, how to give a person directions who doesn't know how to read maps. He claimed they needed to get these migrants out fast to get the medical care they needed. When I suggested we stop talking so we can get him out fast, he turned to me and said "he's fine."
Yesterday myself Rachel and Cyril went out on patrol and what ended up happening was a slew of serendipitous events. At a point where we would soon turn back we realized our hike that morning was going to be disappointingly short, so Cyril suggested we explore the wash a ways up. As we continued it became that situation where you turn one bend and see the next, and keep going just to see what's around the corner. When it was time to turn back Cyril, for no logical reason proposed we go out of the wash and in a bush whacking manner climb over the hill. Once we got over, he yelled out (Hola Amigos, Somos Voluntario de la iglesia, tenamos agua y comida.... apologies for my spelling!). The day before we had just been talking about how no one ever returns those calls, but sure enough this time, about a half mile off the trail, up a hill we hear a yell. Margarita had been out in the desert for 12 days (in that time, deported once to Nogales, but headed right back out), she had been alone for 4 days, hiked during the days and hid at night (fear of rape), she was 23, had a baby back at home, and her toes were raw. She wanted to keep going, but that just wasn't an option. After considering all the options, she got back to our camp and we called 911 (she was a strong lady, she walked out- even faster than some of us, we thought we'd have to get a helicopter right there on that ridge). In the end she was airlifted to Tucson to get the medical attention she needed.
So something I've been thinking about a lot is how many people claim that immigrants are using up all our tax money. It's true, tax money does go to these things, but in the last three weeks, four individuals have had to been airlifted out of the desert in emergency situations, the first time, two ambulances and a helicopter showed up- a plethora of vehicles that defiantly was not necessary, especially because in all the time it took to figure these things out, we could have had them in our cars and driven them to the hospital ourselves, with our money and faster! (we can't do that though, that's why those two were arrested in 2005). The other huge thing to think about is that it would be cheaper to fix the trade agreements than to have this much enforcement. In addition, these huge towers have recently been put up to monitor the border, costing our country billions of dollars.
Friday morning we came across Jose. He wanted to go home, and never come back, concluding that even if you are living near poverty, it is still far more important to be near your family, than a country in which many clearly don't value fundamental human rights. We called border patrol and waited with him. Four phone calls and five hours later, the BP officer arrived and Jose was on his way home. What use are these towers when we are staring straight at them, calling BP, begging them to pick up this man and deport him, and they dont show up for 5 hours?
Privilege is also something that comes up quite a bit (white, American, economic class, etc.). I pretty much have it all. One night last week three guys stayed with us (I was actually begging to feel like we were running a B & B). They were some of the sweetest people I've ever met, very chipper and chatty! We had a good time and got them plenty of food, water, and clean clothes so they could continue on their journey. It's weird how attached you can get to people in only 24 hours, when you can't even speak the same language. When it was time for them to continue on, we all stood around and stared at each other for a little while, they prayed for us, hugged us and waved as they walked off. After they left it felt so weird to me, these people who we had just been eating and laughing with were going off to take on the desert at night, and we were off the Gadstens to listen to music and drink smoothies.
One last thought (I wish I had time to write about more of our experiences)- I'm ashamed of myself. While me and Rachel sat with Margarita waiting for Cyril to bring back a Spanish speaker, we could listen to her talk, watch her cry and try to understand what she was communicating to us. I am so ashamed that I can't speak the language that our neighbors speak.
I'll be spending next we at the immigrant resource center in Agua Prieta.
Odds are if you're reading this, I miss you. Thanks for your thoughts and prayers!
Rachel and I mobilized the mobile camp and went to hang out more in the middle of no where: right at the base of the Cierro Colorado Mountains, with the full(ish) moon. Camping out here would enable us to reach places faster in the morning. We mapped many new trails, which will be rated and then allow volunteers to know which ones to patrol in the future. Our last morning out we rose at 4:30 to finish before the sun got too harsh but ran into a man who was in desperate need of help. The entire ball of his foot was skinless. Once border patrol arrived they lectured us for about 45 minutes on... I really don't know what, how to give a person directions who doesn't know how to read maps. He claimed they needed to get these migrants out fast to get the medical care they needed. When I suggested we stop talking so we can get him out fast, he turned to me and said "he's fine."
Yesterday myself Rachel and Cyril went out on patrol and what ended up happening was a slew of serendipitous events. At a point where we would soon turn back we realized our hike that morning was going to be disappointingly short, so Cyril suggested we explore the wash a ways up. As we continued it became that situation where you turn one bend and see the next, and keep going just to see what's around the corner. When it was time to turn back Cyril, for no logical reason proposed we go out of the wash and in a bush whacking manner climb over the hill. Once we got over, he yelled out (Hola Amigos, Somos Voluntario de la iglesia, tenamos agua y comida.... apologies for my spelling!). The day before we had just been talking about how no one ever returns those calls, but sure enough this time, about a half mile off the trail, up a hill we hear a yell. Margarita had been out in the desert for 12 days (in that time, deported once to Nogales, but headed right back out), she had been alone for 4 days, hiked during the days and hid at night (fear of rape), she was 23, had a baby back at home, and her toes were raw. She wanted to keep going, but that just wasn't an option. After considering all the options, she got back to our camp and we called 911 (she was a strong lady, she walked out- even faster than some of us, we thought we'd have to get a helicopter right there on that ridge). In the end she was airlifted to Tucson to get the medical attention she needed.
So something I've been thinking about a lot is how many people claim that immigrants are using up all our tax money. It's true, tax money does go to these things, but in the last three weeks, four individuals have had to been airlifted out of the desert in emergency situations, the first time, two ambulances and a helicopter showed up- a plethora of vehicles that defiantly was not necessary, especially because in all the time it took to figure these things out, we could have had them in our cars and driven them to the hospital ourselves, with our money and faster! (we can't do that though, that's why those two were arrested in 2005). The other huge thing to think about is that it would be cheaper to fix the trade agreements than to have this much enforcement. In addition, these huge towers have recently been put up to monitor the border, costing our country billions of dollars.
Friday morning we came across Jose. He wanted to go home, and never come back, concluding that even if you are living near poverty, it is still far more important to be near your family, than a country in which many clearly don't value fundamental human rights. We called border patrol and waited with him. Four phone calls and five hours later, the BP officer arrived and Jose was on his way home. What use are these towers when we are staring straight at them, calling BP, begging them to pick up this man and deport him, and they dont show up for 5 hours?
Privilege is also something that comes up quite a bit (white, American, economic class, etc.). I pretty much have it all. One night last week three guys stayed with us (I was actually begging to feel like we were running a B & B). They were some of the sweetest people I've ever met, very chipper and chatty! We had a good time and got them plenty of food, water, and clean clothes so they could continue on their journey. It's weird how attached you can get to people in only 24 hours, when you can't even speak the same language. When it was time for them to continue on, we all stood around and stared at each other for a little while, they prayed for us, hugged us and waved as they walked off. After they left it felt so weird to me, these people who we had just been eating and laughing with were going off to take on the desert at night, and we were off the Gadstens to listen to music and drink smoothies.
One last thought (I wish I had time to write about more of our experiences)- I'm ashamed of myself. While me and Rachel sat with Margarita waiting for Cyril to bring back a Spanish speaker, we could listen to her talk, watch her cry and try to understand what she was communicating to us. I am so ashamed that I can't speak the language that our neighbors speak.
I'll be spending next we at the immigrant resource center in Agua Prieta.
Odds are if you're reading this, I miss you. Thanks for your thoughts and prayers!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Bri's Week Two
Border Patrol, why don't you come to your senses? You been out building fences for so long now Oh, you're a hard one- I know that you think you got reasons. These things that are pleasin' you Can hurt our world somehow.
Ya- Desperado is a favorite sing-a-long at our camp. We enjoy making some variations.
This week me and Rachel went to the mobile camp to explore some new tails that haven't been in No More Deaths records yet. We found a huge dump site that must have had at least 400 backpacks. Migrants have to leave all their stuff behind before continuing their journey. When you come upon the site it's hard to not know there's a war going on. Every day I kind of feel more and more like I am in the middle of a war (but I do still feel very safe). When there's a physical wall and such rigid and harsh political boundaries and policies it's pretty understandable isn't it? Anyways on that note we had a couple encounters with border patrol this week that went smoothly and civil. I have heard many bad stories, but have yet to have a bad run in myself. They pulled us over the other night just for driving, because that can be suspicious. We've had some other conversations with agents and they seem like they're trying to be nice, good people, but are just brainwashed and stuck in some matrix that doesn't allow them to see the whole picture. When border patrol finds migrants they hold them until the Wackenhut Bus gets there, Wackenhut is a private company, not governmental. When we see migrants with BP it's okay that we go and ask them if we can give the migrants food and water, and check their health. We can ask Wackenhut too, but they have no policy about aid to the migrants. These guys are just like security guards- not border patrol, not police officials, but they still give themselves this macho authority that allows them to tell us we need to 'maintain a 50 foot perimeter in order to do their job effectively.' That is not their policy. It's hard not to explode, but exploding would just lead to something messier, it's better to take a deep breath, wave at the migrants and go away. The migrants will most likely be returned to Mexico, and start again, in ill health.
One day while we were on patrol we began to think of real practical solutions to the problem at the border. So if it were up to me, I would start by doing these things, keep in mind, there is no quick fix, it will take time and patience, like all good things: first I'd get rid of NAFTA, and other policies that hurt our neighbors. Then we'd need to come up with a practical path to citizenship for the immigrants who are here, and the ones who still may come in the future (those one's our economy and communities depend on and will continue to depend on). Then we're really going to have to legalize marijuana, for so many reasons. A big reason border patrol claims they're at the border is to stop drug runners. Make it legal and it can then be monitored rather than smuggled. Then most importantly: as much as I think it is not necessary, would would still have to have some sort of border patrol. But we could improve their training! They could learn how to read maps and use GPS. They could learn fundamental skills like the knowledge of where North South East and West are. They could have agents ride around with a partner for their own safety instead of being alone in their vehicles whenever anything comes up. They could put them through diversity trainings that would allow and encourage and humane treatment of people who still try to cross the border. They could make the training longer than two weeks.
It's still hot here, but the desert impresses me every day. I'm excited for the monsoon to come and the dirt to turn red!
Again, I hope everyone is well. Peace.
Ya- Desperado is a favorite sing-a-long at our camp. We enjoy making some variations.
This week me and Rachel went to the mobile camp to explore some new tails that haven't been in No More Deaths records yet. We found a huge dump site that must have had at least 400 backpacks. Migrants have to leave all their stuff behind before continuing their journey. When you come upon the site it's hard to not know there's a war going on. Every day I kind of feel more and more like I am in the middle of a war (but I do still feel very safe). When there's a physical wall and such rigid and harsh political boundaries and policies it's pretty understandable isn't it? Anyways on that note we had a couple encounters with border patrol this week that went smoothly and civil. I have heard many bad stories, but have yet to have a bad run in myself. They pulled us over the other night just for driving, because that can be suspicious. We've had some other conversations with agents and they seem like they're trying to be nice, good people, but are just brainwashed and stuck in some matrix that doesn't allow them to see the whole picture. When border patrol finds migrants they hold them until the Wackenhut Bus gets there, Wackenhut is a private company, not governmental. When we see migrants with BP it's okay that we go and ask them if we can give the migrants food and water, and check their health. We can ask Wackenhut too, but they have no policy about aid to the migrants. These guys are just like security guards- not border patrol, not police officials, but they still give themselves this macho authority that allows them to tell us we need to 'maintain a 50 foot perimeter in order to do their job effectively.' That is not their policy. It's hard not to explode, but exploding would just lead to something messier, it's better to take a deep breath, wave at the migrants and go away. The migrants will most likely be returned to Mexico, and start again, in ill health.
One day while we were on patrol we began to think of real practical solutions to the problem at the border. So if it were up to me, I would start by doing these things, keep in mind, there is no quick fix, it will take time and patience, like all good things: first I'd get rid of NAFTA, and other policies that hurt our neighbors. Then we'd need to come up with a practical path to citizenship for the immigrants who are here, and the ones who still may come in the future (those one's our economy and communities depend on and will continue to depend on). Then we're really going to have to legalize marijuana, for so many reasons. A big reason border patrol claims they're at the border is to stop drug runners. Make it legal and it can then be monitored rather than smuggled. Then most importantly: as much as I think it is not necessary, would would still have to have some sort of border patrol. But we could improve their training! They could learn how to read maps and use GPS. They could learn fundamental skills like the knowledge of where North South East and West are. They could have agents ride around with a partner for their own safety instead of being alone in their vehicles whenever anything comes up. They could put them through diversity trainings that would allow and encourage and humane treatment of people who still try to cross the border. They could make the training longer than two weeks.
It's still hot here, but the desert impresses me every day. I'm excited for the monsoon to come and the dirt to turn red!
Again, I hope everyone is well. Peace.
Rachel on Week Two
While we spent the first week hiking established trails and checking for migrants/leaving water, this past week brought some new adventures. Bri and I moved to what is called Mobile Camp with Gene, the guy whose house we stayed at last week. The three of us spent the week hiking areas that aren't well mapped, trying to establish the routes that migrants are taking North, determining which routes are most well-traveled and where migrants are most likely to need help. We put all the information into GPS units, then later export the waypoints we've made onto maps and connect the dots (side note: I'm getting a good handle on how to work with GPS gear, which will be a nice thing to have when I head to grad school in a few months). No More Deaths has a pretty extensive set of information that keeps growing, and that allows us to be more effective.
I've been trying to think of what I should write about this week (we are, at the moment, utilizing the computers of the U. of Arizona library), and I keep coming back to the dump sites. When migrants are led along the trails by their guides/coyotes (we're told the phrases have become interchangeable), they carry whatever they can cram into a backpack. At some point, once they've passed the border, they will meet up with a ride at a pick-up point. Before this pick-up point, however, there has to be a dump site. The dump site is where the guide tells them to get rid of their backpacks, the packs' contents, and anything that can identify them as being from Mexico/elsewhere. So places within a day's travel of pick-up sites end up covered in trash, clothing, packs, food, etc., because the migrants are forced to leave everything there.
We come along these sites especially when we're hiking new areas, and No More Deaths attempts to recycle things. We carry out the usable packs to be re-used in various needy areas, clothing that is still good is taken to shelters, etc., and plastic water jugs are washed out so they can be filled and put out on trails again (I should note that trash is broken down by the sun much more quickly than at home...not that it makes the total amount of trash everywhere fine and dandy, but it does break down faster here).
When we encounter these sites, we go through the bags and other items, in order to find what is useful, and it is strangely reminiscent of the service trip I went on in New Orleans. The difference is, in New Orleans we went through things in the ruined homes in order to set aside valuables for the families to keep, and here there is no hope of the items ever being returned to their owners. There is such a broad range of items that people deem necessary for the trip-- grammar school notebooks, lotions, cologne/perfume, cloves of garlic, names/addresses/phone numbers for contacts in the U.S., crosses and other religious objects (I found a picture of the Pope in one bag), and of course lots of canned food and salty things. Some things strike me as odd or silly (say, cologne?), but then I have to catch myself with that. If I were making this journey, what would I conclude was necessary to bring, and who am I to critique what someone else thinks is important? It's not my place, for sure.
There are also lots of shrines along the trails (Catholicism being a big deal here), and those are touching, to say the least. At Mobile Camp a migrant started a shrine before we got there, and it sits right next to the Prayer Flags that the Buddhist landowner (who is letting us use her land) put up...I like that juxtaposition.
I think I've reached my ending point for today, though all that I've written is entirely inadequate. I think about all the things I want to convey when I finally get here, and then it just becomes too much to pour out in any coherent form. The people we're meeting here, citizens and undocumented persons alike, are all amazing creatures. I think this summer is going to be on par with Ghana in terms of changing my person, and I'm excited for that.
Shalom.
I've been trying to think of what I should write about this week (we are, at the moment, utilizing the computers of the U. of Arizona library), and I keep coming back to the dump sites. When migrants are led along the trails by their guides/coyotes (we're told the phrases have become interchangeable), they carry whatever they can cram into a backpack. At some point, once they've passed the border, they will meet up with a ride at a pick-up point. Before this pick-up point, however, there has to be a dump site. The dump site is where the guide tells them to get rid of their backpacks, the packs' contents, and anything that can identify them as being from Mexico/elsewhere. So places within a day's travel of pick-up sites end up covered in trash, clothing, packs, food, etc., because the migrants are forced to leave everything there.
We come along these sites especially when we're hiking new areas, and No More Deaths attempts to recycle things. We carry out the usable packs to be re-used in various needy areas, clothing that is still good is taken to shelters, etc., and plastic water jugs are washed out so they can be filled and put out on trails again (I should note that trash is broken down by the sun much more quickly than at home...not that it makes the total amount of trash everywhere fine and dandy, but it does break down faster here).
When we encounter these sites, we go through the bags and other items, in order to find what is useful, and it is strangely reminiscent of the service trip I went on in New Orleans. The difference is, in New Orleans we went through things in the ruined homes in order to set aside valuables for the families to keep, and here there is no hope of the items ever being returned to their owners. There is such a broad range of items that people deem necessary for the trip-- grammar school notebooks, lotions, cologne/perfume, cloves of garlic, names/addresses/phone numbers for contacts in the U.S., crosses and other religious objects (I found a picture of the Pope in one bag), and of course lots of canned food and salty things. Some things strike me as odd or silly (say, cologne?), but then I have to catch myself with that. If I were making this journey, what would I conclude was necessary to bring, and who am I to critique what someone else thinks is important? It's not my place, for sure.
There are also lots of shrines along the trails (Catholicism being a big deal here), and those are touching, to say the least. At Mobile Camp a migrant started a shrine before we got there, and it sits right next to the Prayer Flags that the Buddhist landowner (who is letting us use her land) put up...I like that juxtaposition.
I think I've reached my ending point for today, though all that I've written is entirely inadequate. I think about all the things I want to convey when I finally get here, and then it just becomes too much to pour out in any coherent form. The people we're meeting here, citizens and undocumented persons alike, are all amazing creatures. I think this summer is going to be on par with Ghana in terms of changing my person, and I'm excited for that.
Shalom.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Brianna's Week One Reflection
Rachel pretty much covered it below, as to what our days are like and what has happened so far, so make sure you read her entry below. As you'll read read we did a lot in one week, but it still seemed to be relatively slow in terms of the number of people we encountered. This next week we'll be stationed at a mobile camp, exploring new trails traveled by migrants and probably running into a lot more people. I want to write about some of the thoughts and emotions that have arisen in me this last week.
No one would do this because they WANT to. It's horrible down here- at most we hike 8 miles a day and when I'm hot and sweaty and tired and all cut up from everything prickly- I remember, that I am not walking around in the desert because my life depends on it, I'm wearing hike tech hiking boots, not sandals, I'm drinking water (clean water, not cow tank water), eating granola bars, I have a place to sleep and a document that protects me from deportation, I have no children I'm trying to lead through these trails and keep healthy, I am not trying to climb these mountains pregnant, and I get to do it all during daylight. It's hard not to see the privilege involved in what we are doing, and see how unjustly the system works.
I feel safe. Coming down here I had so many fears- they ran in every direction. The desert is both beautiful and harsh. It takes lives and does not appear to be forgiving. At night is when I really begin to trust it, it cools down and the milky way comes into sight. We're usually woken up at some point in the night by the coyotes howling, but they wont hurt us. It's weird to understand what's all out there. People: Migrants, Border Patrol, Us, Ranchers, People sitting behind the computers only God knows where watching whatever the STI towers report back, Minute Men (usu sally not during these months). There are a lot of forces working against each other. The other day we must have set off a sensor and a Border Patrol Chopper came over the mountain, circled us twice and left. Other years, they have set up a 24 hour patrol station to monitor camp, no sign of that yet, but we'll see.
A desperate cry for freedom, what DOES this country really stand for? As you'll read in Rachel's reflection, we met a man name Carlos. He spent the night in our camp and yesterday we had to have him airlifted out. For all you who are into praying, do that for him. For all you who are into sending good energy, do that. And for all you who are into thinking really hard, do that. He left Nicaragua 14 days ago. His goal was to make money here so he could feed his 5 kids back at home. He's 42 years old. When he made it to the border the Mexican bandits took all his stuff. He fell behind and his group had to leave him. Our group found him, peeing blood, and drinking brown water. He was brought to our camp. He looked relatively healthy, and in good spirits. The next day his health went down (possible renal failure). He had to be airlifted right from our camp. So, this is his life, his family, his chance, and look what he was willing to go through. People die down here, and no one in there right mind would do it because they wanted to. If I were Carlos I would be so scared right now, we don't know what will happen after he's out of the hospital, it's possible he'll be on his way, it's also possible Border Patrol will pick up his bill and deport him. The system is so screwed up and needs to change because this isn't freedom. It's not freedom when goods can cross borders but people and labor cant. It's not freedom when towers and cameras and untrained border patrol monitor citizens for 24 hours a day. It's not freedom when the process to help someone in distress becomes a complicated drawn out process. It's not freedom when these things are happening to people in OUR name. It's not a country I want to live in, when people think they deserve it, 'because they should have came here legally.'
Something else I want to add is that we have been surrounded by great people so far- everyone really, that we've come into contact with...
hope everyone is well, please think about these things.
No one would do this because they WANT to. It's horrible down here- at most we hike 8 miles a day and when I'm hot and sweaty and tired and all cut up from everything prickly- I remember, that I am not walking around in the desert because my life depends on it, I'm wearing hike tech hiking boots, not sandals, I'm drinking water (clean water, not cow tank water), eating granola bars, I have a place to sleep and a document that protects me from deportation, I have no children I'm trying to lead through these trails and keep healthy, I am not trying to climb these mountains pregnant, and I get to do it all during daylight. It's hard not to see the privilege involved in what we are doing, and see how unjustly the system works.
I feel safe. Coming down here I had so many fears- they ran in every direction. The desert is both beautiful and harsh. It takes lives and does not appear to be forgiving. At night is when I really begin to trust it, it cools down and the milky way comes into sight. We're usually woken up at some point in the night by the coyotes howling, but they wont hurt us. It's weird to understand what's all out there. People: Migrants, Border Patrol, Us, Ranchers, People sitting behind the computers only God knows where watching whatever the STI towers report back, Minute Men (usu sally not during these months). There are a lot of forces working against each other. The other day we must have set off a sensor and a Border Patrol Chopper came over the mountain, circled us twice and left. Other years, they have set up a 24 hour patrol station to monitor camp, no sign of that yet, but we'll see.
A desperate cry for freedom, what DOES this country really stand for? As you'll read in Rachel's reflection, we met a man name Carlos. He spent the night in our camp and yesterday we had to have him airlifted out. For all you who are into praying, do that for him. For all you who are into sending good energy, do that. And for all you who are into thinking really hard, do that. He left Nicaragua 14 days ago. His goal was to make money here so he could feed his 5 kids back at home. He's 42 years old. When he made it to the border the Mexican bandits took all his stuff. He fell behind and his group had to leave him. Our group found him, peeing blood, and drinking brown water. He was brought to our camp. He looked relatively healthy, and in good spirits. The next day his health went down (possible renal failure). He had to be airlifted right from our camp. So, this is his life, his family, his chance, and look what he was willing to go through. People die down here, and no one in there right mind would do it because they wanted to. If I were Carlos I would be so scared right now, we don't know what will happen after he's out of the hospital, it's possible he'll be on his way, it's also possible Border Patrol will pick up his bill and deport him. The system is so screwed up and needs to change because this isn't freedom. It's not freedom when goods can cross borders but people and labor cant. It's not freedom when towers and cameras and untrained border patrol monitor citizens for 24 hours a day. It's not freedom when the process to help someone in distress becomes a complicated drawn out process. It's not freedom when these things are happening to people in OUR name. It's not a country I want to live in, when people think they deserve it, 'because they should have came here legally.'
Something else I want to add is that we have been surrounded by great people so far- everyone really, that we've come into contact with...
hope everyone is well, please think about these things.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Reflection on the first week-- Rachel
Ola! Somos voluntarios de la iglesia-- tenemos agua y comida!
My apologies if the spelling is incorrect there, but regardless if you sound it out, you get what we have been hearing for a lot of this past week (english: Hello! We're volunteers of the church-- we brought water and food!)
It's hard to know where I should begin to reflect on this past week and all that we have done and learned. As I type now, Bri, another volunteer Brittany and I are at the house of one of the founders of No More Deaths, who is letting us stay at his house for a night to rejuvenate. Tomorrow we will go to Nogales for a dedication ceremony for an aid center there, and then return to our desert camping.
To give you a general idea, our days are spent as follows:
After sleeping outside under the stars (desert nights are made of everything amazing and wonderful) we wake at 5 a.m. Either Cyril (the camp leader for the past week) or I make the coffee (those who drink it make it), we all fill up on cereal and other things, and we (anywhere from 4-8 people) head out to do morning patrol. This consists of hiking along migrant trails around Arivaca, AZ, with a pack of food and water. We hike anywhere from 2-4.5 miles at a time, and we hike during the day because the migrants who are in distress will be out during the day (most move at night). We leave gallons of water on the trail, and if we run into any migrants we give food or water or medical aid as necessary. Let me reiterate that this is all done with a policy of transparency, meaning the Border Patrol knows exactly what it is we do, and it's legal. After monring patrol we take a break, eat lunch, retrieve water and ice from neighbors who let us use their resources, and prepare to head out for afternoon patrol at 3 p.m., which is the same routine as the morning. Finish up the evening with dinner, conversation, and sometimes a little singing with guitars, and you have our day.
Those are the dry details, but they don't even hint at how impacting this place and work is...the natural landscape alone is enough to make me want to reflect and write for days on end, but once you add in the human component, I can hardly comprehend it all. The trails we hike are constantly reminding us of the people who move through here-- water bottles, shoes, food wrappers, clothing, backpacks, and other random personal items sit as reminders that every night people use these trails to make their way towards a better life for them and their families.
We have come across a few migrants thus far, each impacting in their own way. The first group was around 12-15 people in size, and we surprised them at the beginning of our patrol. They must have assumed we were Border Patrol (BP), and they took off running. We all felt so badly that they spent the energy to run away from us, when that's the last thing we want to make them do. The second was a group of three migrants who were in the back of a BP truck, and we saw them as we were driving away from what you could call a trailhead. We stopped and asked the BP agents if we could give the people in the back some food and water, and after some hesitation they allowed it (when they're deported to Mexico, most migrants are basically dumped in the desert with no food or water, so getting them these essentials before they're deported is important). Wackenhut, the private company that takes over migrants after BP, is not so kind in letting us give food and water.
The third migrant I'll talk about has impacted all of us the most, I believe. On Saturday night's patrol (while Bri and I were at a different camp, soon to return to Arivaca camp), one of the groups came across a man who had been sitting on the trail for two days, had been drinking water from a cattle tank for four days, and was in a bad state. He was disoriented, and so our camp offered him food, water, and rest for the night. The next morning (this morning), two of us stayed back at camp with him while the others went out on patrol. He was friendly, and despite our language barrier (my Spanish=horrible), we managed to get a game of double solitaire going! After continued medical evaluation, however, it became clear that he was not improving, and it actually looked like renal failure might be occurring. After lots of deliberation an ambulance was called, and they then decided that it was necessary to helicopter him to Tucson, over an hour's (bumpy) drive away. This man came all the way from Nicaragua to find work to support his wife and five children, and he ended up in a helicopter to Tucson for some serious medical care, which will likely end in him being deported back to Central America. No one felt good about making the decision to send him to the hospital, since it's almost ensuring that he will be caught and sent back, but with such serious problems with his kidneys, no other option seemed even close to appropriate. As we watched them load him into the helicopter today, he waved to us from the stretcher, which is a good example of the pleasant personality he had; even though he was in excrutiating pain, he tried to remain happy and calm. And now he's off in a strange sterile building surrounded by people speaking a language he doesn't understand, worried about what his release will mean...
We are all still trying to process this and what it means-- to have such a warm face to attach to this issue of "border security" as it is so often dubbed, as if it's as simple as just keeping out some obvious hazards. Carlos is not a hazard, he is a man trying to feed his family, and even when his body begged him to stop he wanted to go on. How do you fault a man like that, how do you label him illegal and toss him back into a desert?
And that's that.
My apologies if the spelling is incorrect there, but regardless if you sound it out, you get what we have been hearing for a lot of this past week (english: Hello! We're volunteers of the church-- we brought water and food!)
It's hard to know where I should begin to reflect on this past week and all that we have done and learned. As I type now, Bri, another volunteer Brittany and I are at the house of one of the founders of No More Deaths, who is letting us stay at his house for a night to rejuvenate. Tomorrow we will go to Nogales for a dedication ceremony for an aid center there, and then return to our desert camping.
To give you a general idea, our days are spent as follows:
After sleeping outside under the stars (desert nights are made of everything amazing and wonderful) we wake at 5 a.m. Either Cyril (the camp leader for the past week) or I make the coffee (those who drink it make it), we all fill up on cereal and other things, and we (anywhere from 4-8 people) head out to do morning patrol. This consists of hiking along migrant trails around Arivaca, AZ, with a pack of food and water. We hike anywhere from 2-4.5 miles at a time, and we hike during the day because the migrants who are in distress will be out during the day (most move at night). We leave gallons of water on the trail, and if we run into any migrants we give food or water or medical aid as necessary. Let me reiterate that this is all done with a policy of transparency, meaning the Border Patrol knows exactly what it is we do, and it's legal. After monring patrol we take a break, eat lunch, retrieve water and ice from neighbors who let us use their resources, and prepare to head out for afternoon patrol at 3 p.m., which is the same routine as the morning. Finish up the evening with dinner, conversation, and sometimes a little singing with guitars, and you have our day.
Those are the dry details, but they don't even hint at how impacting this place and work is...the natural landscape alone is enough to make me want to reflect and write for days on end, but once you add in the human component, I can hardly comprehend it all. The trails we hike are constantly reminding us of the people who move through here-- water bottles, shoes, food wrappers, clothing, backpacks, and other random personal items sit as reminders that every night people use these trails to make their way towards a better life for them and their families.
We have come across a few migrants thus far, each impacting in their own way. The first group was around 12-15 people in size, and we surprised them at the beginning of our patrol. They must have assumed we were Border Patrol (BP), and they took off running. We all felt so badly that they spent the energy to run away from us, when that's the last thing we want to make them do. The second was a group of three migrants who were in the back of a BP truck, and we saw them as we were driving away from what you could call a trailhead. We stopped and asked the BP agents if we could give the people in the back some food and water, and after some hesitation they allowed it (when they're deported to Mexico, most migrants are basically dumped in the desert with no food or water, so getting them these essentials before they're deported is important). Wackenhut, the private company that takes over migrants after BP, is not so kind in letting us give food and water.
The third migrant I'll talk about has impacted all of us the most, I believe. On Saturday night's patrol (while Bri and I were at a different camp, soon to return to Arivaca camp), one of the groups came across a man who had been sitting on the trail for two days, had been drinking water from a cattle tank for four days, and was in a bad state. He was disoriented, and so our camp offered him food, water, and rest for the night. The next morning (this morning), two of us stayed back at camp with him while the others went out on patrol. He was friendly, and despite our language barrier (my Spanish=horrible), we managed to get a game of double solitaire going! After continued medical evaluation, however, it became clear that he was not improving, and it actually looked like renal failure might be occurring. After lots of deliberation an ambulance was called, and they then decided that it was necessary to helicopter him to Tucson, over an hour's (bumpy) drive away. This man came all the way from Nicaragua to find work to support his wife and five children, and he ended up in a helicopter to Tucson for some serious medical care, which will likely end in him being deported back to Central America. No one felt good about making the decision to send him to the hospital, since it's almost ensuring that he will be caught and sent back, but with such serious problems with his kidneys, no other option seemed even close to appropriate. As we watched them load him into the helicopter today, he waved to us from the stretcher, which is a good example of the pleasant personality he had; even though he was in excrutiating pain, he tried to remain happy and calm. And now he's off in a strange sterile building surrounded by people speaking a language he doesn't understand, worried about what his release will mean...
We are all still trying to process this and what it means-- to have such a warm face to attach to this issue of "border security" as it is so often dubbed, as if it's as simple as just keeping out some obvious hazards. Carlos is not a hazard, he is a man trying to feed his family, and even when his body begged him to stop he wanted to go on. How do you fault a man like that, how do you label him illegal and toss him back into a desert?
And that's that.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Learn more about the root causes of immigration~ read below
(we didn't write this, it's all taken from afsc.org/immigrant-rights/learn/roots.htm)
The Roots of Migration
The decision to leave one’s home for another country is never a simple one. As with any major life choice, it is usually shaped by many different factors. In general, there are three major reasons why people leave their home countries:
To flee violence, war, or political persecution.
To seek economic security or survival.
To join with family members.
Very often, a combination of two or all three of these factors is present.
Violence
A relatively small number of people are officially admitted to the United States as refugees or asylees . A much larger number of people, however, have come here fleeing persecution, violence, or warfare. Others have fled the severe economic dislocation that always accompanies war. As violent conflicts and outright war increase around the world, millions more people will be forced out of their homes.
Refugees most often flee to nearby countries or to countries with strong ties with their home country. Only a small percentage comes to the United States. According to the United Nations, at the end of 2000, the worldwide population of refugees and other displaced people was dispersed among Asia (38.8 percent), Africa (27.9 percent), Europe (25.6 percent), North America (4.8 percent), and Latin America and the Caribbean (2.6 percent).
Economics
Economic motives are the strongest force promoting immigration. Often, however, the economic roots of immigration are poorly understood. Politicians and media commentators paint a picture of immigrants coming from poor countries to rich countries like the United States in order to take advantage of public benefits or higher wage levels. The reality is considerably more complicated.
Many immigrants are essentially economic refugees. In the era of globalization, governments around the world have faced a great deal of pressure to reduce public investment in infrastructure, services, credit, and job creation. Public subsidies for food and agriculture have also been slashed or eliminated, and small-scale farmers have been forced to compete with huge international agribusiness firms.
While these policies have a negative effect on all countries, their impact on developing countries has often been devastating. Without access to credit or markets, small farmers cannot survive on the land. Rural communities are depopulated as their inhabitants migrate to cities or across national borders.
Small and medium-sized business and industry are affected in similar ways, and their workers also join the migrant stream. As government around the world is “downsized” and public support for health and education is eroded, even the middle classes are affected by economic displacement. “There were no jobs, we had to leave” is a story told by millions upon millions of immigrants.
Globalization is also connected with immigration in other, more complicated ways. Some researchers have argued that international investment flows create a sort of economic bridge between developing countries and advanced industrial countries. Foreign investment, especially in the developing world, is often defended as a strategy for job creation. In reality, however, people who leave developing countries usually migrate to the rich countries that account for the most foreign investment in their economies. This is one reason why most people leaving Africa migrate to France or the United Kingdom, while people from Mexico are more likely to migrate to the United States. In recent years, as investment flows have become more diverse, so have migrant destinations.
These economic bridges reflect even older economic and political relationships, forged in the era of colonialism. Under the colonial system, European nations and, later, the United States ruled over most of the developing world, carving it up among themselves into “spheres of influence.” Today, all but a small handful of developing countries have their own governments. The old relationships, however, persist in a new form, creating bridges — economic, political, and cultural — that structure international migration flows.
International economic policies favored by global elites have also structured a steadily increasing flow of the world’s wealth — away from the developing world and toward the advanced industrial countries. In the 1960s, according to the Toronto Star, “three dollars flowed North for every dollar flowing South; by the late 1990s, after 30 years of unprecedented growth and increasing globalization, the ratio had grown to seven to one” (William Rees, “Squeezing the Poor,” 4/22/02). For this reason, some developing country activists argue that globalization is a form of “recolonization.”
Other researchers talk about globalization in terms of the creation of a “transnational labor force.” A central aspect of globalization is economic integration — that is, the progressive merging of separate national economies into broader regional economies. Policies that promote “free trade” aim to create unified markets extending across national boundaries. For example, NAFTA (the North American Free Trade Agreement) creates a regional market system covering the United States, Canada, and Mexico. Depending on the specific situation, free trade agreements may establish multi-country markets in goods, services, currency flows, and investment capital.
The growth of international labor markets is an inevitable consequence of the expansion of international markets in investment, industry, and services. Usually, however, government policies treat labor very differently from these other sectors of the economy. The U.S. government, for example, actively promotes “free trade” with many different countries around the world. At the same time, however, it is just as active in seeking to restrict labor migration — often from the very same countries.
In practical terms, restrictive immigration policies cannot really achieve their stated objectives. The international economic policies promoted by the United States lead inevitably to increased immigration flows. At the same time, U.S. immigration policies impose criminal penalties on the people who make up these flows. For this reason, many people have argued that the true function of restrictionist policies is to depress wage levels, by creating a “gray market” in undocumented (“illegal”) workers who cannot risk demanding higher wages — or protesting abusive or illegal working conditions.
Undocumented immigration is not only a result of individual decisions; it has also become a permanent, structural feature of the U.S. economy. The situation is similar in many other parts of the world, especially in the advanced industrial countries. Many of these countries are grappling with controversies over immigration policy and undocumented immigration that are very similar to debates in the United States.
The global justice movement (also known as the anti-globalization movement) has challenged many different aspects of globalization. So far, however, it has paid relatively little attention to immigration and to movements for immigrants’ rights.
Family and Community
A third major reason that people leave their home countries is to reunite with family members. As with war refugees or international labor migrants, this category includes both legally documented and undocumented immigration.
Numerically, “family reunification” accounts for a large proportion of all legally documented migration. For example, in one recent year (fiscal year 1999), the INS Statistical Yearbook reports that nearly 650,000 people were granted legal residency. More than 475,000 of them were admitted under various categories of family sponsorship.
Those who do not meet official requirements must make a painful choice between entering the country without documents or involuntary separation from their families. As noted in the previous section, even permanent residents must meet income criteria to sponsor their family members. Even for those who meet the government’s criteria, the wait may extend to many years. People whose family relationships are not legally recognized — such as common-law relationships or same-gender relationships — are excluded from family unification programs. No statistics are available to chart the number of undocumented immigrants whose primary motive was to rejoin their families.
Creating the Future
In this brief overview of why people migrate, we have stressed the importance of international labor migration as the single most important “root cause” of immigration to the United States.
It is equally important, however, to remember that “labor markets” are made up of human beings. The social struggle for immigrants’ rights reflects the determination of immigrants to express their full humanity. For different people at different moments, this may mean reuniting with one’s family — or leaving an abusive or violent relationship. It may mean moving back and forth across borders to maintain ties with one’s family or country of origin — or it may mean building new communities that meet one’s needs for cultural, social, and material support. It may mean preserving cultural traditions — or developing new identities and new forms of expression. It may mean all of these things, and others as well.
The richness and complexity of human life and human community are also a root cause: the root cause of the universal thirst for dignity and justice. The lives of immigrants, like those of all people, are shaped by global economic forces. At the same time, immigrants, like all people, are also active, creative agents in the unfolding story of our world. These are the two faces of life, for immigrants — and for all of humankind.
The Roots of Migration
The decision to leave one’s home for another country is never a simple one. As with any major life choice, it is usually shaped by many different factors. In general, there are three major reasons why people leave their home countries:
To flee violence, war, or political persecution.
To seek economic security or survival.
To join with family members.
Very often, a combination of two or all three of these factors is present.
Violence
A relatively small number of people are officially admitted to the United States as refugees or asylees . A much larger number of people, however, have come here fleeing persecution, violence, or warfare. Others have fled the severe economic dislocation that always accompanies war. As violent conflicts and outright war increase around the world, millions more people will be forced out of their homes.
Refugees most often flee to nearby countries or to countries with strong ties with their home country. Only a small percentage comes to the United States. According to the United Nations, at the end of 2000, the worldwide population of refugees and other displaced people was dispersed among Asia (38.8 percent), Africa (27.9 percent), Europe (25.6 percent), North America (4.8 percent), and Latin America and the Caribbean (2.6 percent).
Economics
Economic motives are the strongest force promoting immigration. Often, however, the economic roots of immigration are poorly understood. Politicians and media commentators paint a picture of immigrants coming from poor countries to rich countries like the United States in order to take advantage of public benefits or higher wage levels. The reality is considerably more complicated.
Many immigrants are essentially economic refugees. In the era of globalization, governments around the world have faced a great deal of pressure to reduce public investment in infrastructure, services, credit, and job creation. Public subsidies for food and agriculture have also been slashed or eliminated, and small-scale farmers have been forced to compete with huge international agribusiness firms.
While these policies have a negative effect on all countries, their impact on developing countries has often been devastating. Without access to credit or markets, small farmers cannot survive on the land. Rural communities are depopulated as their inhabitants migrate to cities or across national borders.
Small and medium-sized business and industry are affected in similar ways, and their workers also join the migrant stream. As government around the world is “downsized” and public support for health and education is eroded, even the middle classes are affected by economic displacement. “There were no jobs, we had to leave” is a story told by millions upon millions of immigrants.
Globalization is also connected with immigration in other, more complicated ways. Some researchers have argued that international investment flows create a sort of economic bridge between developing countries and advanced industrial countries. Foreign investment, especially in the developing world, is often defended as a strategy for job creation. In reality, however, people who leave developing countries usually migrate to the rich countries that account for the most foreign investment in their economies. This is one reason why most people leaving Africa migrate to France or the United Kingdom, while people from Mexico are more likely to migrate to the United States. In recent years, as investment flows have become more diverse, so have migrant destinations.
These economic bridges reflect even older economic and political relationships, forged in the era of colonialism. Under the colonial system, European nations and, later, the United States ruled over most of the developing world, carving it up among themselves into “spheres of influence.” Today, all but a small handful of developing countries have their own governments. The old relationships, however, persist in a new form, creating bridges — economic, political, and cultural — that structure international migration flows.
International economic policies favored by global elites have also structured a steadily increasing flow of the world’s wealth — away from the developing world and toward the advanced industrial countries. In the 1960s, according to the Toronto Star, “three dollars flowed North for every dollar flowing South; by the late 1990s, after 30 years of unprecedented growth and increasing globalization, the ratio had grown to seven to one” (William Rees, “Squeezing the Poor,” 4/22/02). For this reason, some developing country activists argue that globalization is a form of “recolonization.”
Other researchers talk about globalization in terms of the creation of a “transnational labor force.” A central aspect of globalization is economic integration — that is, the progressive merging of separate national economies into broader regional economies. Policies that promote “free trade” aim to create unified markets extending across national boundaries. For example, NAFTA (the North American Free Trade Agreement) creates a regional market system covering the United States, Canada, and Mexico. Depending on the specific situation, free trade agreements may establish multi-country markets in goods, services, currency flows, and investment capital.
The growth of international labor markets is an inevitable consequence of the expansion of international markets in investment, industry, and services. Usually, however, government policies treat labor very differently from these other sectors of the economy. The U.S. government, for example, actively promotes “free trade” with many different countries around the world. At the same time, however, it is just as active in seeking to restrict labor migration — often from the very same countries.
In practical terms, restrictive immigration policies cannot really achieve their stated objectives. The international economic policies promoted by the United States lead inevitably to increased immigration flows. At the same time, U.S. immigration policies impose criminal penalties on the people who make up these flows. For this reason, many people have argued that the true function of restrictionist policies is to depress wage levels, by creating a “gray market” in undocumented (“illegal”) workers who cannot risk demanding higher wages — or protesting abusive or illegal working conditions.
Undocumented immigration is not only a result of individual decisions; it has also become a permanent, structural feature of the U.S. economy. The situation is similar in many other parts of the world, especially in the advanced industrial countries. Many of these countries are grappling with controversies over immigration policy and undocumented immigration that are very similar to debates in the United States.
The global justice movement (also known as the anti-globalization movement) has challenged many different aspects of globalization. So far, however, it has paid relatively little attention to immigration and to movements for immigrants’ rights.
Family and Community
A third major reason that people leave their home countries is to reunite with family members. As with war refugees or international labor migrants, this category includes both legally documented and undocumented immigration.
Numerically, “family reunification” accounts for a large proportion of all legally documented migration. For example, in one recent year (fiscal year 1999), the INS Statistical Yearbook reports that nearly 650,000 people were granted legal residency. More than 475,000 of them were admitted under various categories of family sponsorship.
Those who do not meet official requirements must make a painful choice between entering the country without documents or involuntary separation from their families. As noted in the previous section, even permanent residents must meet income criteria to sponsor their family members. Even for those who meet the government’s criteria, the wait may extend to many years. People whose family relationships are not legally recognized — such as common-law relationships or same-gender relationships — are excluded from family unification programs. No statistics are available to chart the number of undocumented immigrants whose primary motive was to rejoin their families.
Creating the Future
In this brief overview of why people migrate, we have stressed the importance of international labor migration as the single most important “root cause” of immigration to the United States.
It is equally important, however, to remember that “labor markets” are made up of human beings. The social struggle for immigrants’ rights reflects the determination of immigrants to express their full humanity. For different people at different moments, this may mean reuniting with one’s family — or leaving an abusive or violent relationship. It may mean moving back and forth across borders to maintain ties with one’s family or country of origin — or it may mean building new communities that meet one’s needs for cultural, social, and material support. It may mean preserving cultural traditions — or developing new identities and new forms of expression. It may mean all of these things, and others as well.
The richness and complexity of human life and human community are also a root cause: the root cause of the universal thirst for dignity and justice. The lives of immigrants, like those of all people, are shaped by global economic forces. At the same time, immigrants, like all people, are also active, creative agents in the unfolding story of our world. These are the two faces of life, for immigrants — and for all of humankind.
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