Gil is my priest.
Seth is the mission priest for two parishes in AZ and the border area.
Please don’t call the Feds on us. :-)
Tuesday
10:00 am. Gil, Cassandra, Erin, and I gathered at St. Augustine 's in Tempe for a celebration of Holy Eucharist and prayers before we packed everything we were taking (men's pants, shoes, bandages and medical tape) into suitcases, which we hoped would look less suspicious to Customs. We had gathered the supplies by asking the congregation, who are very supportive of the young adult ministry, and by holding a concert in which the admission was either money or donations. The medical supplies were donated by a worker in a local hospital, with the permission of the hospital.
The trip down was uneventful; we stopped at a wonderful Mexican restaurant in Tucson.
5-ish pm.
We arrived in Douglas , AZ , checked into our hotel, and met up with Seth, Mark, and others to participate in a weekly prayer vigil for those who have died trying to cross the border. Seth is the Episcopal border missioner and runs two parishes in the area, Mark is a Presbyterian missionary. The vigil starts at the intersection about half a mile or a mile from the border. The participants hold up crosses bearing the names of those who have died in the desert in Cochise County since 2000, shout out the name, and everyone yells "Presente!" There are over 300 crosses and this is the only memorial for those whose body could not be identified. The crosses were left resting over the curb as we worked our way down to the border crossing. After we had laid out the crosses, we stopped to remember two people in particular. As we were starting this part of the vigil a border patrol van came around the corner into the straightaway, slowed down to about 5-10 miles per hour, and ran over two of the crosses. He waved at us as he sped through the entrance to the border crossing.
I had a hard time concentrating on the rest of the vigil. One member of the group walked to the van, which had stopped just short of the checkpoint; Seth followed to cool the situation down. I was watching to see if there would be trouble. Seth took down the agent's information and returned to the group, although he was not planning on reporting the agent. Seth said he believed the agent when the agent said it was an accident; Mark did not. I agree with Mark that it was not an accident but I agree with Seth that it is better not to report it. Even if the agent ran over the crosses on purpose, he did look remorseful when talking to Seth. Seth also does not want to report it because he wants to build some type of good relationship with the border patrol. Reporting the agent would be counterproductive to that.
After the vigil, we all crossed into Agua Prieta (Dark Water, or AP), Mexico, leaving the rental van on the U.S. side. The first thing you notice is that there was significantly less light at night. Roads are a mixture of paved and dirt, and there are many more people walking around than in, say, downtown Mobile. We went to a local Catholic Church that provides meals and beds to migrants and those just down on their luck. It is a men-only shelter and takes a great commitment from the church's congregation to provide this volunteer service every night since they are never sure in advance how many they will be serving. We also met a few men and women who use the church as a place to practice their crafts, furniture-making and leatherwork.
We then ate a dinner of lentil soup and tuna tacos with four migrants. They were either making their way back into Mexico, getting ready to cross, or there just to look for the possibility of work on either side of the border. Those that were getting ready to cross heard that there was work in Chicago, or at least NOT in AZ or CA due to crackdowns. One man, 63 years old, had ridden his bicycle from south of Mexico City to Agua Prieta, about 3,500km to look for work; the trip took 59 days. He had merely heard that there was work picking tomatoes nearby. One man had been in the U.S. for a while, but had gotten pneumonia because he was caught in a flash flood sleeping in the desert. He lost all of the money he had made paying for a hospital stay. He broke down crying telling his story; he had to decide whether to try to cross again or return to his family empty-handed.
After dinner, we made our way back to the U.S. As we were waiting in the line at the crossing, Seth recognized a car in another lane; it was a young parishioner and his fiancée(?). The young parishioner got out of his car to talk to Seth, walking to keep up with us in the traffic. They had crossed for dinner, but the young man told us that, because of the violence in Juarez and Nogales getting so much coverage in the media, his mother had told him not to go into Mexico anymore. He lives there. He knows the situation. AP is much safer compared to Juarez and Nogales. It seems that most people forget just how large the border really is when they watch the news and hear about the violence.
Back in the U.S., we had to plan how Wednesday was going to work and how to get our supplies across the border (men’s pants, shoes, rudimentary medical supplies, and money) to a migrant center. All of it could be confiscated, including the rental van which wasn't supposed to go into Mexico. So as we sat with our beers, we decided that we would leave our supplies with Seth, who would take stuff over the border piece by piece. We then decided that after our tour of ministries in AP, Gil would drive the rental van to Naco on the U.S. side and the rest of us (Seth, Cassandra, Erin and I) would go to Naco on the Mexican side. After that we called it a night and headed back to the hotel.
Wednesday
8:00 am. Cassandra, Erin, and I met up in Gil's room for morning prayers, which were taken from a Benedictine Breviary. After praying, we went to the Gadsden Hotel for breakfast. The Gadsden Hotel makes a decent breakfast, hosted our "home base" bar, and has a very beautiful lobby. Unfortunately, the rooms there have a very bad reputation. One hotel rating says "see the lobby, then run."
9:30-ish. We met up with Seth at his Douglas parish, St. Stephen's, and received the tour. We then drove to the border crossing's parking lot, left the rental van, and piled into Seth's Honda Civic to get across the border. Our first stop was the migrant center right inside the border. When migrants are released at the border, they find their way here. The Border Patrol confiscates most of the stuff that migrants take with them, especially back packs and such; they are frequently released with only their ID and the clothes on their back. The migrant center provides a little food, clothes as needed, and helps people search for their family members.
The border patrol does a few things once they capture migrants. If they find out the migrants are related, they may be separated and released in different places. So, if a husband is released in Agua Prieta, they may release his wife in Juarez. Other options include flying separated members deeper into Mexico (they are dropped off at night without being told where they are), or prosecuting them in the U.S., sentencing them to prison, and then releasing them into Mexico after the sentence. These migrant centers try to locate separated family members and deal with rights violations.
10:00 am. We made our way to Just Coffee (Café Justo). It’s a pretty small operation on both sides of the border that roasts fair-trade organic coffee from Chiapas, Mexico. I got to meet the owner and his wife and take a look at the workshop. I highly recommend ordering coffee from there, since I think that this is a small part of the solution to poverty by letting the small farmer profit from their work directly. We made a small stop at a local Presbyterian mission, which gives medical care to those in need and provides other services. It seems that the Presbyterians and the Catholics are the dominant denominations in Agua Prieta, but there is a sense of ecumenism in that they and the other denominations often work together on various projects. Other than the Episcopal Diocese of AZ, the nearest Anglican presence is 400 miles away.
Noon. Lunch at DouglaPrieta Trabajan (Works). This is a cooperative on both sides of the border but we met the director on the Mexican side, Jose. As we sat down to eat the best chile rellenos I’ve ever had, we conversed through Seth, who translated. The goal of the Works is something akin to vocational training; the director wants to encourage self-sufficiency in the community by teaching skills and providing education, but he also wants the center to provide for the community so that they aren’t solely relying on the impersonal “capitalist system.” In essence, they want to build a self-sustaining community. The cooperative hosts woodworking, ESL classes, a computer lab, sewing, and agri-permiculture. Jose has a workable vision and I expect we will looking for ways to support his ministry.
After lunch we took Gil back to the border so he could pick up the van and take it to Naco. Seth, Cassandra, Erin and I made our way to Naco on the Mexican side. We passed many roadside shrines. I wished we had stopped in one in particular, the shrine to Santa Muerte, “Holy Death,” but we didn’t have time. Imagine the Lady of Guadalupe…now imagine her shrouded in black with a death’s head. Santa Muerte is a patron of members of some of the drug cartels, and the cult is growing. She is a reminder and a warning to me that where the influence of Good is lacking, Evil will take hold. In this case I define evil as the poverty which takes away a person’s choices and the dignity of work. There are few jobs in these border towns, so the unthinkable option of working for a cartel becomes a necessity.
2:30 pm. We came into Naco, arriving before Gil, and stopped at the migrant center at which we were supposed to deliver our supplies. Actually, “center” is an overstatement. It is a wood and masonry building in questionable condition about 7 ft wide by 30 ft long. The worker at the center that day was an American that lived in Bisbee, AZ, which was about ten minutes north of the border. The Naco center does the same job as the slightly larger center in Agua Prieta but Naco is a smaller crossing. The thing is, even though they are a smaller center, they may see just as much migrant traffic because the Border Patrol drops people off wherever they want. Some things this particular office sees are injuries from people making the trip; one man there that day had a sprained ankle. The director also told us about pregnant women who have tried to scale the wall only to break their ankles from the 20 foot drop in the U.S. side.
There was a group of men there giving their information to the worker of the center and maybe a dozen other men milling about. They had just been released from detention (15 hours in holding) and had no idea where their sister was going to be dropped off. They feared that she may be one of the ones who would be prosecuted stateside.
Gil eventually walked across the border along with a bunch of school children. Naco actually straddles the U.S./Mexican border; the fence, which is doubled-up there, divided the town when it was built. Kids from the Mexican side attend school on the U.S. side.
I’m not sure who got up the courage first, but Gil and Seth conversed for a minute and then decided to go ahead and try to drive the van and the supplies across the border. The center was low on supplies, which I think increased the sense of urgency. If they got caught, it could at least mean confiscation of the van and the supplies and possibly detention for Gil and Seth. Erin, Cassandra, and I stayed at the migrant center to learn about the operation.
As Gil was driving the van, Seth threw out four or five quick possibilities for explaining 6-7 suitcases and a large box of men’s pants and shoes. Though, if caught, the medical supplies would be the nail in the coffin; no way to explain that kind of “contraband.” (The reason it’s illegal to take them in is because medical supplies are illegal to sell, and Customs doesn’t bother to ask if you are going to just give them away.) Finally, about twenty yards from the red/green light which would determine if they were getting stopped, Gil asked Seth which story they were going with. Seth then said he was just going to pray for a green light.
They got the green light.
As they pulled up to the center, we quickly started to bring in the suitcases and unload them, mindful that we could see the U.S. border less than 100 yards away, which means that Customs could see us if they looked. Thankfully, they were not looking. Actually, the director of the center has street vendors in the area who also look out for trouble; we would have had plenty warning. We loaded the empty suitcases back into the van and walked back down to the migrant house to get the tour. The house can house six men and six women as well as receive people at all hours. They have kitchen and shower facilities. It was incredibly clean and well taken care of, brand-new. What struck me most was the sign of rules, particularly “no Polleros.” Polleros are human traffickers, otherwise called coyotes. They offer to help people cross the border, but it’s a crooked business. We saw a few of them in Agua Prieta. One may be just as likely to die from trusting a pollero as going alone. Polleros could leave a migrant to die in the desert, taking the money, or holding for ransom a migrant they lure into trusting them. In any case, if a pollero is found to work out of any migrant center, the government then has cause to shut the center down. Keeping them out of the centers is just as much about protecting the centers as it is about protecting the migrants.
4:00 pm. We drive our van back across into the U.S. and head to Bisbee, AZ, where Seth’s other parish, St. John’s, is located. He had a vestry meeting and Gil would be hosting a Lenten program on prayer and spirituality that night. St. John’s is a wonderful space, and after touring Bisbee a bit, we arrived for the Lenten program. However, before it started, I snuck into the sanctuary for some pictures; Erin and Cassandra joined me. After a good look around, we scattered ourselves in the sanctuary and sat in silence and prayer. The silence was marvelous and I took the opportunity to go through the rosary. After that we ate dinner with the congregation of St. John’s and had our discussion. After the discussion, some congregants pulled out a labyrinth, which I walked.
7:30 pm. With our goodbyes said to Seth and his very friendly congregation, we drove from Bisbee to Douglas, stopping at the bar in the Gadsden Hotel to reflect on all we had seen before retiring for the night.
Thursday
9:00 am. We drove to St. Stephen’s in Douglas to celebrate Eucharist before starting back to Tempe, AZ. Seth could not join us, but had arranged for an altar guild member to prepare the table.
After we celebrated, we found a local eatery for breakfast and got on the road. Between Douglas and Tombstone, we came across two bicycle club members who had a flat. We gave them a ride into St. David, 20 miles down the road, where they met the rest of their club and fixed their bikes. We then visited a local Benedictine monastery, praying in their garden and sitting in silence in their chapel.
4:00 pm. Back at St. Augustine’s in Tempe. I stuck around to help prepare for the young adult worship service that night.
Overall Impressions
- This trip started out for me to be fact-finding, but it quickly came to be about building relationships and opportunities to support worthwhile ministries. The “us” and “them” mentality was immediately obliterated, becoming “you” and “me,” sharing meals with those whose crime is crossing a line while wanting to pick tomatoes and sharing meals with those who envision a better Mexico.
- Never underestimate the power of a shared meal.
- My Spanish improved a bit.
- Our morality trumped our sense of legality and I’m fine with that. The logic of the state is different from the logic of the Church and God has no borders. Still, we are certainly going to look for a better way to get our donations into Mexico.
- It is so easy to make this problem of borders and immigration political and huge and impossible to deal with as an individual. But this trip shows small acts of mercy go a long way and I have absolutely no remorse for doing mercy.
- Our country is wasting untold amounts of money at the border. We spend millions to make the wall higher, but taller ladders are built. Do we really think a wall will stop a man who, at 63 years old, rode his bicycle over 3,500 km to find a job? Simply put, we are fighting a symptom at the border of a problem that is pervasive, but fighting symptoms does not end the problem, it just makes the problem less visible.
- If one wants to fight the problem, find and support the solutions…and a larger wall is not a solution. I met a few of the solutions this week (Café Justo and DouglaPrieta Trabajan) and they need all the help they can get.
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