On Friday the 30th we concluded with our border delegation/immersion experience with the Austin and Albuquerque YAV houses. Throughout the week we participated in many activities along the U.S. Mexico border to immerse ourselves within a variety of different perspectives and cultures based around those whose lives are affected by this situation on a continual basis. We spent time in and around the Douglas/Aqua Prieta port of entry. As part of this immersion experience, we visited many different facets of life along border communities. We spoke with the mayor of Douglas about the unique relationships border communities have with each other. We explored topics such as economic policies, education, and community structure as well as looking into how these concepts put in practice transcend traditional barriers. On the Mexican side we visited and spoke with families who have attempted to obtain a temporary visa and the issues they faced. There were also many types of community wealth we took part in observing. One such group is known as “Cafe Justo” and they are a fair-trade coffee cooperative working to help foster wealth for those in more distressed parts on the country. Another unintended side effect of increased border security is the costs to the black-market drug industry. While higher quantities of drugs are being stopped at the border due to increased security this also means that many of these illicit substances intended for US customers are now getting trapped along the border in border communities instead. This has resulted in a new epidemic along the southern border with treatment facilities on the rise to help remediate this issue. One such facility, the CRREDA, takes part in helping the community with substance abuse. The facility functions under a family structure model that focuses on the 12 steps and the beatitudes as the foundation of healing. Those who enter usually spend a minimum of 90 days. On the last stop of our journey that week we witnessed the legal proceeding (known as Operation Streamline) taking place in Tucson’s court systems. These proceedings are a drastic step forward in combating illegal immigration by pushing as many as 70-90 people a day through Tucson’s courts in an effort to quickly combat illegal immigration while also minimizing the time/costs related with detention. Throughout these proceedings many of the defendants spoke Spanish but a few spoke different dialects and their level of comprehension at times was questionable at best. Usually 10 to 12 people were brought into the courtroom at a time. Then they would go down a line with the defendants being asked to yes or no questions about the nature of their detention. There was a translator and many of the lawyers spoke Spanish but I still at times questioned the overall level of comprehension among them. The law and your individual rights can at times be a complex and confusing animal even to someone raised in this country…
0 Comments
When I first contemplated how I would format my blog post about the Border Delegation, I thought that I would title it, “Hurt and Hope,” and describe the ways in which I observed and experienced both throughout the week. I quickly realized, though, that sorting my experiences that way was too binary. Most of what I saw and learned encompassed hints of both hope and hurt. At church the Sunday after our Border Delegation concluded, Pastor Bart Smith spoke in his sermon about Emmanuel: God with us. He said that emmanuel is forever and ongoing. With it being the beginning of advent, he posed the question, “When is a good time for love to be born?” In my mind, I considered, “When is a good time to migrate?” Inspired by the sermon, I arrived at this title and framework: Emmanuel in the Borderlands. Emmanuel at Café JustoCafé Justo (translated: fair or just coffee) is a coffee cooperative owned and operated by farmers in Chiapas, Mexico. The coffee is grown in Chiapas and roasted in Agua Prieta. It is sold in Mexico, the U.S., Canada, and France, mostly at churches. During our time in Agua Prieta, we were given a tour of the roasting facility and learned about their operations from Café Justo employees, Daniel and Adrián. Café Justo began in 2002 with a microloan from Frontera de Cristo. Many farmers from Chiapas were migrating to Northern Mexico or to the United States because the price of coffee fell so dramatically in the 1990s that they could no longer support themselves or their families. Community and family unity suffered greatly. In response to the economic and social crisis, Café Justo was formed as a way to cut out the middle man in the coffee growing and selling process so that the farmers in Chiapas could receive a fair price for their beans. In addition to being paid a fair price for the fruit of their labor, farmers who are part of the cooperative receive benefits, such as health insurance and retirement plans. Now, some of the original farmers are retiring, and their children are working as part of the co-op. The same families that would have been separated by migration as a result of environmental and economic factors out of their control, are now living and working intergenerationally and have the resources to invest in their community. When is a good time to migrate? Emmanuel in a Family’s HomeOne evening during our time in DouglaPrieta, we were welcomed into the home of a young family: Flor, Miguel, and their daughter, Aleyda. We were a group of 13 people, but our hosts were very hospitable and generous. Flor prepared a lentil soup that we garnished with cilantro, onions, and lime. She served us pitchers full of agua fresca- piña, my favorite! Most of the time we were there, Aleyda, who is five, was in a side room watching cartoons and coloring with her dad. She wore shiny bows in her hair, and produced a shy smile when we asked her questions. After enjoying la cena, Flor and Miguel spoke to us candidly about life on the border. Flor grew up in Agua Prieta; Miguel in Chiapas. Due to a lack of job opportunities over a decade ago, Miguel migrated to the U.S. He explained that during his time in the United States, he only left his home to go to work. He lived in constant fear of any interaction with law enforcement. One day, while on his way to work, the vehicle he was in was pulled over, I think for mechanical issues. Miguel was the only individual in the vehicle who did not have authorization to work, so he was taken to the immigrant detention facility in Florence, Arizona. (Some of my colleagues at the Florence Project provide legal services to individuals detained there). Miguel described his six months imprisoned there as difficult and ugly. I could see in his facial expressions and hear in his words that he had many painful memories of Florence. After six months of trying to obtain a work permit, but with no avail, Miguel decided to sign an order of deportation and return to Mexico. He ended up in Agua Prieta and applied for a job at a maquiladora, or factory. Flor was a new hire at the same maquiladora at that time. Also limited by economic opportunity, many Agua Prieta folks work at factories run by multinational cooperations that are located near the border due to lax labor and tax laws. Although Miguel annoyed Flor at first because he asked many questions during work orientation, they eventually became friends and are now married with a child. As a United Statesian, I often have had the perception that people in Mexico are miserable. Especially people who live near the border, I thought, must have terrible lives filled with violence and despair. That is the opposite of what I experienced in the home of Flor, Miguel, and Aleyda. They were hopeful. They were hospitable. They were healthy. They were happy. Miguel said, “We have problems, like all families do, but we are very content to live in this community.” When is a good time to migrate? When is a good time for a child to be born? Emmanuel at Operation StreamlineThe part of our week in which it was the most difficult to believe Emmanuel: God with us was when we observed Operation Streamline in Tucson. Operation Streamline is a two hour-long, mass federal prosecutorial hearing that occurs every afternoon. Each day 70 to 80 individuals are prosecuted for a misdemeanor or a felony, solely related to entering the country not at a port of entry. If an individual has only entered once, and has not been deported, they generally plead guilty to a misdemeanor and are then turned over to Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) where they will be detained for months before being deported or, if they are statistically lucky, released to live in the U.S. If an individual has a prior deportation on their record, they are prosecuted for a felony and a misdemeanor, but will usually plead guilty to the misdemeanor so the felony is dropped. They are sentenced to 30 to 180 days in federal prison, after which they will be turned over to ICE and spend several months in detention until being deported, or if EXTRA statistically lucky, released. Our group of 13 and another group of folks on a church/border education trip entered a massive federal court room and were seated in the back. Many attorneys sat in the jury box. All of the usual court personnel was there: a judge, a secretary, an interpreter, and many federal marshals. When the judge was ready to begin, a group of seven people wearing street clothes, handcuffs, ankle shackles, and chains around their waists came out from a side door, had headphones were placed on their ears (they could not do it themselves because of the handcuffs), and stood in front of the judge. Seven of the attorneys stepped down from the jury box and stood behind each defendant. The judge went down the line of people asking them to verify their names, read them their rights, asked if they wanted to waive their right to a trial, read them their charges, and asked for their plea. She would usually read the full text (for an example, the rights) to the first or second person in line. She would say, “Do you understand your rights as I just explained?” By the third, fourth, fifth, person in the order, she would just say, “Same question.” It was apparent that efficiency, not comprehension or justice, was the name of the game. After each defendant pleaded guilty to their charges, whether they really understood them or not, the group of seven would be escorted out, and another group of seven would be escorted in. This process was repeated about ten times. It was uncomfortable, sad, and shameful to watch people being treated like this, especially in a U.S. court room. It was very difficult to feel the presence of God in that room. Among the approximately 70 humans who we saw in chains standing in front of a judge who spoke to them in complex legal terminology in a foreign language, were a pregnant woman, indigenous language speakers whom the judge coerced into using the Spanish interpreter even if comprehension was limited, and boys who appeared and sounded to be 14 or 15 years old, but told the judge they were 18. One defendant broke out of the mechanical saying “Sí” to all of the judge’s questions, and decided to speak up when given the opportunity. I have contemplated his story several times over the last few weeks. Jorge was one of the individuals who had a prior deportation on his record, so he was being charged with a felony and sentenced to time in a federal prison. When the judge asked, “Do any of the defendants want to say anything?” Jorge bravely said yes. He approached the microphone and asked the judge if his sentence could be reduced. He explained that he is a single father, and his United States citizen daughter is in Mexico. The longer his prison sentence, the longer he would be separated from his daughter. It seemed like what he wanted was to quickly be deported so that he could return to caring and providing for her. The judge said, “I’m sorry to hear that, but I have no control over sentencing. It’s between your attorney and the government.” Jorge was sentenced to 180 days, six months, in a U.S. federal prison. When is a good time to migrate? Emmanuel at the Port of EntryDuring our time in Agua Prieta, we had the pleasure of sharing a meal with migrants who were temporarily living at a shelter on the Mexican side of the border. There was a variety of identities present at the shelter, called C.A.M.E. There were a couple of Honduran and Guatemalan families. There were three Mexican men who had spent the majority of their lives in the U.S. There was a group of Honduran transgender women. The C.A.M.E. volunteers and the migrants collaborated to prepare a delicious dinner, do dishes, and clean. We tried to wash our own dishes and sweep, but as their guests, they generously cleaned up after us. While we ate, we had the honor of hearing their stories, sharing in their pain, joking and laughing. Migrants are at this shelter, usually, waiting to cross into the United States. There is a small port of entry between Agua Prieta and Douglas. If a migrant sets foot on U.S. soil and expresses a desire to apply for asylum to a government official, U.S. and international law dictates that the person has the right to stay in the United States (often in detention) while fighting for asylum in immigration court. Entering the U.S. at a port of entry is the best way to do this because it is safer than crossing the desert or the Río Grande. It also carries less potential legal backlash than does entering not at a port of entry (see Operation Streamline, above). However, the number of people who can approach a port of entry and request asylum is limited. And, the number has been decreasing in recent months. (I discussed this phenomena in my post about El Paso.) The Agua Prieta/Douglas port of entry is small, but it has the capacity to process eight asylum seekers per day. In recent weeks, it has been processing maybe one or two people per day. So, some of the folks we met at C.A.M.E. were waiting to go to the port of entry and request asylum, but they had been turned away day after day. During our dinner at C.A.M.E., we met María. She wore her hair in a pony tail, and had a beautiful smile. María was traveling with her 13 year-old daughter, Julisa, who was wearing a blue shirt with white buttons when I met her. The morning following our shared dinner, María and Julisa were planning to go to the port of entry, bright and early, accompanied by C.A.M.E. volunteers. Before leaving that night, we wished them luck and safe travels. The next day we were busy with our scheduled programming. We spent most of the day in Agua Prieta, but around 4 pm, we were crossing the border to participate in a prayer vigil in Douglas. As we approached the port of entry, we saw María and Julisa. Sitting on the concrete. Waiting. They told us that they had been there since 7 a.m., but had not yet been allowed to set foot on U.S. soil to request asylum. We were in a hurry to get to the prayer vigil, so we did not talk for long. We pulled our U.S. passports out of our pockets and were in the U.S. within minutes. After the prayer vigil, some members of our group returned to the port of entry with food, coats, and sleeping bags for María and Julisa. Although they could have returned to C.A.M.E. for the night, they decided to sleep on the concrete in the cold because they didn’t want to “lose their place in line.” María was eight months pregnant, with bronchitis. When is a good time for a baby to be born? When is a good time to migrate? Where is Emmanuel?As we are now in advent, a time of preparation for the coming of Jesus, I am trying to identify Emmanuel in my life. I am trying to consider where God is with me. I experienced God in the faces and in the lives of Daniel, Adrián, Flor, Miguel, Aleyda, Jorge, María and Julisa. I experienced God in the many life-changing ministries of Frontera de Cristo. I experienced God in the DouglaPrieta community. I experienced God in the hope and in the hurt. As Pastor Bart said, Emmanuel is forever and ongoing.
When is a good time to migrate? When is a good time for a baby to be born? When is a good time for love to be born? Doy gracias a Dios por la vida y la salud que nos presta y sobre todo por permitirme ser voluntaria en el programa YAV gracias a esto he visto y he aprendido demasiado, claro que aveces no es fácil pero de alguna manera salimos dando lo mejor; el mes pasado tuvimos la oportunidad de ir a la frontera a una introducción fronteriza y lo que aprendí fue impactante aparte he estado viendo las cosas desde otra perspectiva ya que es diferente la historia cuando estás de otro lado y en este caso yo estoy aquí como una migrante en otro país aprendido día a día las cosas que no podía ver.
Espero les guste. Migración? La detención de migrantes en México pasó de 86.298 en 2015 a 198.141 en 2016; en los primeros siete meses de 2017 ya se han llevado a cabo 99.768 detenciones. Al mismo tiempo, las solicitudes de asilo están en aumento, pasando de 1.296 en 2015 a 3.424 en 2016; en los primeros seis meses de 2016, México ya ha recibido 3.486 solicitudes, el número más alto del que se tiene registro. Para 2016 y 2017; más del 92 por ciento de las solicitudes de asilo son de ciudadanos de Honduras, El Salvador y Guatemala. Hay, además, otros problemas de mayor gravedad, como la caza de inmigrantes por grupos de civiles, que, evadiendo la vigilancia de la patrulla fronteriza, atacan con armas de fuego el paso de éstos. Una situación que recientemente se reconoció y que tiene relación con la continuación de la violencia sobre los derechos humanos de estas personas. Lo que a mí más me duele ver en el caso de migración es que muchos niños desde chicos ya están pensando en emigrar a los Estados Unidos y hay veces que no van acompañados de ningún tutor o alguien responsable muchas veces la misma falta de trabajo o falta de recursos te obliga a salir de tu casa en busca de un futuro mejor, una oportunidad para salir adelante, pero es en realidad un camino fácil?, además de ser engañados por su pollero o la persona que los ayuda a cruzar se arriesgan todas los hombres, niños, mujeres al secuestro , abusos sexuales, asaltos , maltrato etc. Viendo un documental de niñas que emigraron pude ver el gran infierno que pasan ellas sufrieron abuso sexual, psicológico y maltrato pasaron por mucho e incluso estuvieron muy cerca de morir para ellas todo estaba perdido y me dejaron como un mensaje por mi mente paso ellas pasaron todo eso solo por querer oportunidades y es ahí cuando te das cuenta y te preguntas ¿Qué está haciendo mi país con esto? ¿mi gobierno sabrá de toda esta situación? Pero tristemente se ve claramente la ignorancia de muchos que están sobre nosotros. Cada vez hay más pobreza, mas corrupción, más muertes, gente que se hace más rica y sobre todo más y más ignorancia. A pesar de esto seguimos habiendo personas apoyando esta situación apoyando a emigrantes y tratando de que menos gente muera por esta causa. ¿No podemos nosotros convencer a la gente que no emigre porque a quien se le niega la oportunidad de una vida mejor? Pero hay una cosa que creo que todos podemos hacer y eso es apoyar a que menos gente muera tratando de ir en busca de un sostén para la familia, una mejor educación, un mejor trabajo, algo mejor. Cuando tú mismo país no te lo puede dar al contrario trata de burlarse de ti poniendo más obstáculos más barreras más muros sea Dios en sus corazones y les de la visión para que se den cuenta de todo lo que está pasando afuera de sus mansiones de su círculo de niveles y sobre todo que les de la sabiduría de gobernar este país. Dios sea con nosotros y nos del corazón y la buena voluntad. ´´Por qué no nos ha dado Dios espíritu de cobardía sino de poder, amor, y dominio propio 2 Timoteo 1-7´´ A few weeks ago YAVs from Albuquerque and Austin came with us to the U.S/Mexico border on a delegation. The purpose of the delegation was for us to bear witness to the lived realities on the border and to find a faithful response as people of God. The week was transformative for me, while I am still processing all that I experienced I wanted to highlight an experience that stuck with me.
During our time in Mexico we were hosted by Frontera de Cristo, a binational ministry of the Presbyterian church. On our first night we participated in a vigil for people who have died trying to cross the border. We lined the streets of Douglas holding crosses of peoples names who have died. After each name was read we responded with “Presente!” As we were reading the names I thought about my countries policies, and how death on the border is systemic. On our delegation we learned that in order to have fewer people cross the border, the United States created barriers so that people had to cross through the most dangerous terrain. This policy did not deter people from crossing as the United States hoped; but it did increase the death rate along the border dramatically. With each name that is read I know that my country is directly responsible for their death. At the end of the vigil our leader ends with “Jesucristo.” We respond “Presente.” Jesus is present on the border. He is with those who are crossing. I am reminded of the verse Matthew 25:35, “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me,” As we put the crosses away and walk back to our car I thought about how I can be present in the border communities, and how I can respond faithfully. At the end of the delegation a few of us participated in the School of the Americas watch. My fellow YAVs and I stood in front of Eloy detention center, one of the most deadly detention centers, and chanted no están solos (you are not alone). As we stood across the detention center and chanted I saw lights flicker and people move inside. I turned to my fellow YAV and asked “do you think they can hear us?” She responded “I hope so.” After a week of heart break, to bear witness and to chant in the streets, “No están solos” is to respond with the love of God. Every person I encountered on the border whether ministry partners, someone getting ready to cross, or people getting sober from addiction I am reminded that Jesus calls us to encounter and to be present. To bear witness to the oppression on the border and the communities that are resisting is to see the face of God. So we’re coming to the end of Veteran’s Day. This is always one of my favorite days of the year because of the outpouring of support and recognition for and of our servicemen and servicewomen. It’s something I wish I could see all year round.
The past couple weeks have been crazy busy. Last week we joined with the YAVs from Denver and Austin (shout out to y’all for hanging with us for a week) for a border delegation that took place in Tucson, Douglas, AZ, and Agua Prieta, Sonora, Mexico. Over the course of this trip we were exposed to parts of our immigration system, the border, and life in Agua Prieta, as influenced by the border. We learned about Cafe Justo, a direct source, no middleman coffee roastery that partners with co-op farmers living in communities around Mexico. We learned about the journey, or part of it, of migrants through the desert to the border. We learned about organizations in Agua Prieta that work with migrants on their journey to the US. We talked with a Border Patrol agent and a federal judge who oversaw proceedings for Operation Streamline, which expedites the sentencing process for migrants who are caught crossing into the US illegally. We learned about and were exposed to the humanitarian crisis at the border, the dangers of crossing, and some of the details of the antiquated system of immigration used by this country. We confronted the difficulty of finding solutions to the problems surrounding the border. The humanitarian need surrounding the border was hardest for me to confront. It’s one thing to hear about the deaths and the wall; it’s quite another to experience that firsthand. I know that my opinions and ideas and potential solutions probably differ widely from my brethren in the YAV program, but I also know it’s impossible to deny that something should be done. Our system should be updated. Bilateral solutions should be found that include both sides. Ideas should be considered from all parts of the political spectrum, and real debate on those ideas should be encouraged. Consensus should be formed. And then, I think real solutions, lasting solutions, can be found and utilized. This is my hope. This is my prayer. Because, if I learned anything last week, it’s that something needs to be done. Now to the election, the other big happening of the last two weeks. I don’t want to dwell on this, but I do want to say something. And that something is to share the thoughts of someone in the sports world, Ernie Johnson, who comments on the NBA for TNT. Please take a moment to listen to what he has to say. You can find the video of this here. In the aftermath of a contentious election, his words encapsulate my thoughts and how I want to conduct myself moving forward. That and he says everything much more coherently and succinctly than I could ever hope to. Señor, nos guarde en su palma. Nos sane. Nos consuele. Abra nuestros ojos al valor inherente de nuestro prójimo. And so we go. Hi everybody! The following are some thoughts I shared at First Presbyterian Church in Silver City recently, where Melissa, Jake and I were invited to speak….. Spanish version to follow. ————————————————————————- Good morning, everyone. Thank you for inviting us here to Faith this morning. Whenever Jake, Melissa and myself meet new Presbyterian folks at different churches or YAV-related events, they usually want to know more about us, so let me tell you a little bit about myself and how I ended up in Agua Prieta, Mexico. I’m from Grosse Pointe Woods, MI, a suburb of the Detroit area, and my parents still live there. I was raised Catholic, and attended a well-known Jesuit high school within the city of Detroit. Afterwards I went to Kalamazoo College, where I studied foreign languages with a passion. (And yes, by the way, there really is a Kalamazoo! People sometimes wonder.) Because I had been to Honduras for a brief, 8-day mission trip while in high school, I knew I wanted to spend some time after college living in a Spanish-speaking country, working in some sort of social-justice related context. After graduating from Kalamazoo, I stayed at home for a couple of years, and then eventually found out about the Young Adult Volunteer program from a friend of mine. I applied, and was excited about the prospect of having another cross-cultural service experience, this time for a full year. But I don’t think it ever occurred to me just how different this would be from my time in Honduras. I never considered that my entire time spent in Honduras with friends, classmates and teachers I already knew fell within what some call the “honeymoon phase” of life in another culture. Because it was so short, and because all the details of our time there were so carefully planned, it was like a vacation for us! And looking back, I think I was simply too young to appreciate just how difficult life could be for those who experience poverty in the Third World. But this experience has been altogether different for me; it’s put me face-to-face with people who are nowhere near home, fleeing either violence or desperate economic circumstances Serving here in the borderlands, we hear frequently about how NAFTA flooded Mexican markets with cheap corn, and otherwise undermined subsistence farming families’ ability to sustain themselves. We hear that some choose to live behind their homes in Chiapas, Guerrero, or Nayarit, to come north and try to find work in the United States. We know that some are fleeing from violence in El Salvador, Guatemala, or Honduras. In the Migrant Resource Center, I encounter some of these very people every day. They may have bruises on their feet from walking in the desert. They may have broken an arm or twisted an ankle trying to climb over the wall between Agua Prieta and Douglas. They may have been deported. Or maybe they’ve simply arrived at the border, seen how tight the security is, realized how treacherous the hot desert is, and decided to stay put. And these are just the ones I see. We have relatively low numbers of migrants in AP right now, but there are many, many more in Nogales. I thought it’d be a good idea to tell you about one person in particular I’ve gotten to know at the MRC. He arrived in Agua Prieta and first came to the Center seeking help back in October. Since then, he’s become a member of the community. Before leaving for a work-related trip to Ciudad Juárez this past week, my colleague Betto even left him in charge of the men’s shelter because we all know he’s reliable and trustworthy. But unfortunately, he’s had some hard times before finding his way to us in Agua Prieta, and even some near-violent episodes with the wrong crowrd. I discovered just the other day that, because of these events, he doesn’t even feel comfortable telling people his last name, or his full name. So out of consideration, I’m just going to call him Juan. I had asked Juan the other day if he would share some details of his story with me, and when we finally sat down to chat, he looked out the window of our office in the Center, noticed a Border Patrol vehicle rolling along on the other side of the fence, and said, with a note of longing, and perhaps resignation,“Algún día me gustaría regresar ahí, pero… legalmente… no sé…” I think this instance is one where the unspoken speaks volumes. Juan doesn’t know where he was born, or when exactly. And though he declined to talk about his earlier life when we spoke on Friday, I remember him saying (back in October, when he first arrived) something about how he had been brought to the United States when he was still too young to remember. He lived in San Diego and various other parts of California his entire life, before being deported recently. But when I asked him what his experience in Agua Prieta has been like, with all the people he’s met at the MRC and the Catholic shelter CAME, he said, “Me ha dado nueva vida…” (translate) “pues, estoy aquí por el milagro de Dios.” “You guys have always treated me well, and that gives me strength, and pride, and I feel good about myself.” When he was still new to the area, Juan did some construction work for a brief time, before making cardboard boxes in a factory for the LEVOLOR Corporation, an American company that manufactures blinds and shades. Neither job paid very well at all, and I remember a period of several weeks before Christmas where Juan and some others who were staying at the shelter hadn’t received any pay at all from the job at LEVOLOR- apparently, the boss simply didn’t want to pay them, and was able to get away with it, until some of our Mexican volunteers stepped in to advocate for Juan and other migrants. When payday finally came, Juan was in such a good mood, he asked me and Betto to walk down the street to Oxxo with him, and offered his own earnings to buy us each an iced tea. Currently, he has several different part-time jobs as a painter, at various primary schools in Agua Prieta, as well as the CAME shelter. In addition, he is honing his skills as a carpenter, and teaching others to do the same. Of all those I’ve encountered this year, I see Juan as a fantastic example of someone who has accepted the support of the MRC, and turned it into something good in his own life. But we are here to remember that many more people in Mexico, Honduras, Guatemala, El Salvador, etc, never get such a chance at all. And no one should ever be forced into such trying circumstances in the first place. Hola todos! Lo siguiente es una predicacion que he dado hace una semana en la Primera Iglesia Presbiteriana de Silver City, Nuevo Mexico. Ahi invitaron a Jake, Melissa, y a mi a hablar de nuestra experiencia como Joven Adulto Voluntario….
Siempre que Jake, Melissa y yo conozcamos nuevas personas en diferentes iglesias, o en eventos relacionados con el programa JAV, normalmente quieren saber más sobre nosotros. Así que les explico un poquito sobre mí mismo y cómo he llegado aquí, en Agua Prieta. Soy de Grosse Pointe Woods, Michigan, que es un barrio en las afueras de Detroit, y allá siguen viviendo mis padres. Me crecí católico, y asistí a una preparatoria jesuita bien conocida dentro de la ciudad de Detroit. Después, asistí a Kalamazoo College, donde estudié los idiomas extranjeros con mucha pasión. (Y además, ¡sí que hay un Kalamazoo! A veces, la gente no se da cuenta de que existe un lugar con tal nombre…) Ya que había estado en Honduras para un viaje de 8 días, durante el verano entre mi tercer y cuarto año de la preparatoria, yo sabía que quería pasar más tiempo en un país hispanohablante después de graduarme de la universidad, trabajando para la justicia social. Después de graduarme de Kalamazoo College, me quedé en casa unos años, hasta que una amiga mía me dijo sobre el programa de los Jóvenes Adultos Voluntarios. Solicité el programa, y me emocionaba de la expectativa de tener otra experiencia de servicio intercultural- esta vez, durante un año entero. Pero nunca se me ocurrió que esta experiencia iba a ser tan diferente de la que tuve en 2006 en Honduras. Nunca tomé en cuenta que todo el tiempo que pasé en Honduras con mis amigos, compañeros de clase y profesores que ya conocía era dentro de la llamada “fase luna de miel” de vivir en otra cultura (es decir, los principios del tiempo que se pasa en otro país, cuando todo parece lindo y perfecto.) Porque fue tan corto, y porque se habían planeado con cuidado todos los detalles de nuestro tiempo allá, ¡fue como una vacación para nosotros! En retrospectiva, creo que era simplemente demasiado joven para apreciar lo difícil que la vida puede ser para los que experimentan la pobreza en el Tercer Mundo. Pero, durante el año pasado, esta experiencia aquí ha sido completamente diferente para mí; me ha situado “frente a frente” con personas que están muy lejos de sus hogares, huyéndose de la violencia o de unas circunstancias económicas desesperadas. Sirviendo aquí por la zona fronteriza, hemos oído decir muchas veces que el TLCAN (Tratado de Libre Comercio de América del Norte) inundó a los mercados mexicanos de maíz barato que provenía de los Estados Unidos; así, y de otras maneras parecidas, el TLCAN socavó la capacidad de las familias agricultoras mexicanas de sostenerse económicamente. Hemos oído decir que algunos que eligen dejar para atrás sus hogares en Chiapas, Guerrero, o Nayarit lo hacen para viajar al norte, a intentar buscar trabajo en los Estados Unidos. Sabemos que algunos se están huyendo de la violencia en El Salvador, Guatemala, o Honduras. Aquí en el Centro de Recursos para Migrantes, encuentro a muchas de estas mismas personas cada día. A veces, se les han desarrollado moratones en los pies por andar tanto tiempo en el desierto. A veces, se les han roto el brazo o torcido el tobillo por intentar escalar el muro entre Agua Prieta y Douglas. A veces, han sido deportados. A veces, simplemente llegan a la frontera y deciden quedarse aquí, por darse cuenta de que la seguridad fronteriza es más ajustada que pensaban, por darse cuenta de lo peligroso del desierto, etc. Y estas personas son las pocas que encuentro yo; el flujo de migrantes aquí en Agua Prieta es relativamente bajo ahora, pero hay muchas, muchas más personas en Nogales, por ejemplo… A mí me pareció buena idea contarles sobre una persona en particular que he llegado a conocer en el CRM. Él llegó a Agua Prieta y vino al Centro buscando asistencia en octubre, cuando nosotros JAVs acabábamos de llegar aquí. Desde entonces, se ha convertido en miembro de la comunidad. Antes de salir para una convención en Ciudad Juárez a principios de mayo, Betto lo encargó del albergue para hombres, porque sabemos todos que es responsable y confiable. Pero desafortunadamente, pasó por algunos momentos difíciles antes de llegar hasta nosotros en Agua Prieta; también experimentó unas instancias de violencia a manos de gente de mala compañía. El otro día descubrí que, debido a estas instancias, ni siquiera quiere decir su apellido a la gente, ni dar su nombre completo. Así que en este relato, por consideración, lo llamo Juan. Yo había pedido a Juan que compartiera algunos detalles de su historia conmigo. Y cuando nos sentamos juntos para platicar el otro día, miró por la ventana de la oficina, vio un vehículo de la Patrulla Fronteriza al otro lado de la valla, y me dijo, con tristeza, “Algún día me gustaría regresar ahí, pero… legalmente… no sé.” A mí me parece una instancia donde lo que no se dice expresa muchísimo. Juan no sabe ni donde nació, ni cuando exactamente. Y aunque no quiso hablar de su vida temprana, recuerdo que- cuando llegó en octubre- me dijo que se había llevado a los Estados Unidos cuando era demasiado joven para acordárselo. Vivió en San Diego y varias otras partes de California toda su vida, hasta ser deportado recientemente. Pero cuando le pregunté cómo ha sido su experiencia en Agua Prieta, con toda la gente que ha conocido en el CRM y en CAME, dijo, “Me ha dado nueva vida… pues estoy aquí por el milagro de Dios. Ustedes siempre me han tratado bien, y eso me da fuerza y orgullo, y me siento bien.” Cuando estaba recién llegado al área aquí, Juan hizo trabajo de construcción un rato. Después, hizo cajas de cartón en una fábrica de LEVOLOR, que es una compañía americana que manufactura persianas y sombrajos. Ninguno de los trabajos le pagaba mucho, y durante un período de varias semanas antes de la navidad, algunos alojados del albergue (incluyendo Juan) no había recibido ningún pago de LEVOLOR. Al parecer, el jefe simplemente no quería pagarles, y al parecer, se salía con la suya hasta que algunos voluntarios mexicanos nuestros del Centro se involucraron para abogar por Juan y los demás migrantes. Cuando, por fin, llegó el día de pago, Juan estaba de tan buen humor que invitó a Betto y a mí al Oxxo cercano, ofreciendo sus propias ganancias para comprarnos un refresco. Actualmente tiene varios trabajos de jornada parcial como pintor, en varias primarias aquí en Agua Prieta y también en el albergue de CAME. Además, va desarrollando sus capacidades de carpintería y asiste a otras personas a hacer lo mismo también. Él es un ejemplo buenísimo de alguien quien ha aceptado el apoyo del CRM, y quien lo ha convertido en algo bueno para su propia vida. Pero nosotros estamos aquí para recordar a todas las personas en México, Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, etc., que nunca consiguen una oportunidad así. Y nadie debe ser forzado a tales circunstancias difíciles en primer lugar. It always amazes me how the smallest interactions can often be the ones that teach us the most. These small things can almost smack you in the face with how real and unexpected they are. If you’re curious as to what privilege is, this is it.
About a month ago I was in our local grocery store buying some snacks before the bus came by (confession, I’m addicted to Mexican cookies). I went through the line like it was any other day that I needed my cookie fix. I went to the cashier and began speaking to her in Spanish, as is the norm here. Then, to my surprise, the cashier responded to me in perfect English. She asked me where I was from and why I was living here in Mexico. I explained a little bit about Frontera de Cristo and the work we do here on the border. After hearing about our work, she shared with me how she had been living in the US for the majority of her life. She shared how her family still lived there and how she had recently been repatriated to Agua Prieta and how much she missed them. Afterwards I shared a little bit about our Migrant Resource Center and told her that if she needed anything or was curious about something, we would be there to try and help. Fast forward to today. I had seen our friendly cashier (I’m ashamed to admit I still don’t know her name) and few times and always shared some words with her. Today when I saw her, I asked her how she was doing. She shared how there were good days and bad days, and how she missed her family. She didn’t know if she was still unused to living in Mexico and life here, or if she just missed her family an incredible amount, or if it was a combination of both. She shared with me how it was tough for her because she couldn’t escape it. She is unable to leave and take a vacation and see them to rejuvenate. She told me “It’s different for you. You can just leave and say you’re gonna go for a month and then come back. You can do what you want.” And she’s right. Because of where I was born, because of my fancy passport, I can go home whenever I want and see my family. Hell, I can go across into Douglas to spend some time in Wal-mart if life here is getting to be overwhelming. It’s so easy for me. Because I’m lucky enough to have that privilege, I was conveniently born in the US. There are thousands of people like my friendly cashier. People who are as unused to Mexico as I was when I first moved here, regardless of being born here. And all they want is to see their families and be with those they love. Remember that when you choose a candidate and hear their plan for immigration. Remember that when you see your family and are able to hug them. And remember that when you look down at your passport or birth certificate showing you as an American. Remember that regardless of where we are born or what language we speak, we all have families. And we want to be with them and see them. And be sure to pay attention to the little things. Because you never know when they might teach you a major life lesson. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy Mathew 5: 7-12 Who is the person that needs my mercy? Who needs your mercy? When you live in a community of angry and revenge, you learned to be aggressive with every people. But if you have mercy in that world, you will be or looks stranger. It that is a Jesus responds Firstable I want to see with you, how God was mercy for us, and He still give us every day. “He is great in mercy” One of the things about of God`s personality is mercy and we are creative in the divine imagine of God`s love. Second, in this point is really difficult to do and sometimes we just want to jump this part. Be mery with the people who bother you.Remember God all the time every day, every second, has mercy for you. I see the injustice in my community and we say is “the system`s fault”, but the people (us), we are encharge of that system. We can change those laws. I need to be mercy and teach to the kids what is the real thing, what is important, that`s my job. And also, I need to show them, how do mercy, how make mercy.It`s hard, very hard. 26 years living in the border, and my question was why I need to learn English, if they do not want me there? They built that wall, to keep me out. But God gave to me this day is a opportunity to do something. And last one, give mercy make you happy. When you heard the stories and you see how close do you are with that person, you understand how small is this world, and you feel that you are part of the stories. The stories of your brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, sons… your family.You are part of that family. In there, is when you found the joy, doing mercy with your family (world). Jesus said: Rejoice and be glad because great is your reward in heaven. Spend the eternity with God how wonderful life. It is a promise. I learned if I want to be happy, I need to make mercy and have compassion with all. It is difficult but not impossible. But because of this great love for us, who is rich in MERCY make us alive with Christ, even when we were dead in transgressions: ¡it is by grace you have been saved! Ephesians 2: 4-5 Amen. Dichosos los compasivos porque serán tratados con compasión.
Mateo 5:7 y 12 ¿Quién es la persona que necesita mi misericordia? ¿Quién necesita tu misericordia? Cuando estas en una comunidad en donde el odio y la venganza es una respuesta a la ofensa; molestar misericordia es algo extraño, pero es la respuesta dada por Jesucristo. El primer punto que quisiera decir es Dios mostro y nos dio misericordia y aun lo sigue haciendo “Grande en misericordia” Es pate de ser creado por Dios, la misericordia. Segundo se misericordioso con la gente que muchos veces. Recuerda Dios perdona tus pecados todos los días. Como YAV muchas veces he visto la injusticia alrededor. Y cuántas vidas sufren. Y antes de que me moleste por la situación, recuerdo Dios tiene un plan y yo necesito enfocarme en tener misericordia. No es fácil. No es fácil, por 26 años viviendo en la frontera México/USA pensé si ellos construyeron esa muralla es por qué no me quieren allá, entonces por que tendría que cruzar o aprender su idioma. Es un muro para mantenerme alejada. Pero cada día es una oportunidad. Y tercero dar misericordia te produce alegría. He encontrado tantos buenos momentos cuando escucho las historias y soy parte de ellas, de las cenas o simplemente de tomar una taza de café, tu vida se une. Jesús dijo: Alégrense y llénense de gozo porque los espera una gran recompensa en el cielo. He aprendido que si quieres ser feliz necesito ser una persona que practique la misericordia que agrade a Dios. No la que me parece a mi que es la “misericordia” que tengo que dar. Pero Dios que es grande en misericordia por su gran amor por nosotros. Nos da vida en Cristo, cuando estábamos menos en pecado; ¡por gracia ustedes han sido salvados! Efesios 2: 4-5 Amen. About two months ago, I said goodbye to some of my best friends. I wrote letters, crafted poems, and put together gifts to express how much each of these friends and coworkers meant to me. Then, with a tight jaw and head full of mixed emotions, I stepped on a plane and left Tucson. I said goodbye to a city that opened my eyes to oppression, nurtured and empowered me. I said goodbye to a program that encouraged me to live a deliberate and examined life. I said goodbye to an intentional community full of colorful, diverse, and loving characters. I said goodbye to a set of written agreements that dictated how I should live: simply, spiritually, and with a focus on cross-cultural service. I got on a plane heading for, what they call, “the real world.” As I sailed through the sky, I thought about all the wonderful experiences I had shared during my year of mission. Grateful for the opportunities to travel to border towns in Mexico, hike in the Grand Canyon, and retreat in the forest of New Mexico, I felt warm inside. I have never been so quickly and strongly welcomed in a community as I was in Tucson. I am so thankful for my Young Adult Volunteer community, my BorderLinks coworkers, and the Tucson social justice community. Many of my peers had moved to Tucson specifically to get involved in immigration work and are deeply passionate about their work. One of the things I miss most about being in Tucson is having a directed sense of purpose. On the border, problems were so explicit and immediate. This was overwhelming at times, but I had a clear sense of my role in raising awareness of border issues. Now, back in the San Francisco Bay Area, I belong to a community where people have a wider variety of interests ranging from literature to technology to education. Transitioning back into not-so-intentional living has been a positive change, but definitely a challenging adjustment. I feel almost as if my eyes were focused on a 250-piece puzzle. This puzzle of immigration and race issues was complex, all consuming, and important. Many of my friends and coworkers were gathered around me helping put pieces together and pointing out challenges. Moving back home has forced me to zoom out from this 250-piece puzzle and see where it lies within a much larger puzzle. I don't know what puzzle I am working on now. Above me are people working on a segment of the puzzle that is focused on creating new efficient apps. To my side, people are working on improving public education. Below me people are designing new luxury apartments. We are all working on our own puzzles and sometimes we forget that they are all connected, making one huge infinite puzzle. Even so, I have merely moved out of one bubble or community and into a another one. I stepped out of border-focused activist central into startup technology-mania. Obviously there are many cultures, subcultures and ways of living in Tucson and in the Bay Area, but here are some of the differences I have noticed. Instead of seeing Border Patrol trucks, I see luxury busses filled with Google employees. Instead of thinking, “How can we spend so little?” I think, “How can we spend so much?” Instead of eating expired food, I eat organic food. Instead of hearing “Resist!” I hear “Disrupt!” Yet many things are the same. Many social issues that were in Tucson are also in my hometown of San Mateo. Being on the border has opened my eyes to things I wouldn’t have noticed before. For example, last summer I read many articles about the wave of unaccompanied minors who crossed the border. Little did I know that many of these migrants came to San Mateo and enrolled in the local high schools. I only learned this recently while speaking to a local principal about potential job opportunities. Sometimes you are most blind to what is happening in your own city. When I feel disconnected or confused, I sometimes think about my coworker in Tucson, Gabriel.* During our educational trips, we would often cross the border into Mexico to learn more about the culture, economy and community. After crossing, Gabriel would take over guiding the group and teaching us about the local issues of his hometown, Nogales, Mexico. Gabriel and I quickly became friendly, as he invited me to his church and introduced me to his family. Together, we led and organized several trips. One day, while we were driving he asked me where exactly I lived in California. When, I said, “San Mateo,” his eyebrows raised in surprise. “I was there last summer,” he said. “There wasn’t work here so I went to San Mateo to work as a gardener. I lived with my daughter on Tilton and San Mateo Drive.” Although familiar, his words made me feel uncomfortable. I suddenly realized that while I had been working on building bridges of understanding on the border, I had forgotten about the dynamics of my hometown, San Mateo. Last summer while I had been fundraising and preparing to my year of mission, he had been working as an undocumented laborer cutting grass and blowing leaves. Maybe we had passed each while walking around San Mateo downtown and did not know. Thinking about this saddened me, not because of the missed connection, but because if we had met in San Mateo, I’m not sure we would have developed a friendship. It is unlikely we would have gotten the opportunity to work together as peers. Due to economic, cultural, and social boundaries, our paths would probably not have crossed in San Mateo, even though we lived just a few blocks from one another. The border wall of El Camino Real separates my wealthy, white neighborhood from his working class, immigrant neighborhood. In many ways, we could have lived parallel lives, on two different tracks that barely cross. I would have missed opportunity to learn from him and become a part of his life. During my year of service, I though a lot about the borders, visible and invisible, that are present in our everyday lives. I also thought about Jesus’s defiant efforts to break barriers and welcome all to the table. I am still exploring what this means for me, especially in San Mateo, but I think that unity and understanding are built through relationships. Gabriel taught me about his home and, without trying, opened my eyes and taught me about my own home. After spending four years away at college and a year working in Arizona as a YAV, I am now discovering my home again. Thanks to people like Gabriel, I am more aware of border issues both in Tucson and in San Mateo. Although there are new buzzwords, new puzzles and a new community here I am confident that I’ll find my place. Through this transition, I am trying to remain positive, patient, and, well, graceful. *Name changed for privacy Hey everybody! Sorry it’s been such a long time since my last update/blog. A lot has been going on, and I’m also bad at sitting and blogging about what’s been going on. Luckily though, I’ve got a couple of blogs coming up, so hopefully that makes up for the past months. About two weeks ago, I had the opportunity to travel to Tijuana as a chaperone for a week-long mission trip. We were invited by our friend Nathan to go with the youth of his church in Sahuarita AZ. We were going to Tijuana to stay at a shelter for women and their children who had experienced domestic violence. While there we would do some light construction work, spending time with the kids and their mothers, playing games and doing different activities with them. I could probably write multiple pages describing all that we did and the whirlwind of emotions that I experienced during that week. But I’m just going to focus on our last day (because let’s be real, who wants to hear about my emotions?). On the last day, we went to see the wall between the US and Mexico that is goes into the Pacific Ocean. Being along the wall is always a conflicting time for me. It causes many different emotions (fear, anger, sadness) and causes a lot of thinking to go on in my head. This time at the wall was no different. Every time I go to the beach, it makes me incredibly happy. The sound of the ocean always relaxes me. Being out in the sun makes me feel content. And seeing the vastness that is the ocean always blows my mind. It reminds me of all of the fun times I have had with my family and friends at the beach. I can’t think of one unhappy time I’ve had at any beach, for which I am incredibly thankful. This time was weird though, seeing the wall running right through the beach and out into the ocean. I thought back to all of the trips I had taken to the beach, all of the laughter and fun I had there, and the great memories it had given me. However, being there at the wall, I thought about what it would have been like to have a giant sign of division and fear there in all of my memories. How different would my memories be if this wall had been there at my beaches? If during my vacations, there was always a wall there in the background, unmoving. I’m sure we all have those places that are special for us, those places where we have only good memories, where we experienced joy and happiness. Whether they are the beach, or in the woods, a certain town or home, we have special places. Now imagine having something there that separated you from those memories. Or turned them into something fearful. All of these thoughts ran through my mind as I walked along the beach.
Then, as we walked down the beach, we ran into the families that we had been spending the past week with. They had the opportunity to leave the shelter and go to the beach for a bit of fun. It was amazing to see them laughing and playing in the ocean, screaming and enjoying the freedom of being outside. They were so happy and truly loving life, even in the shadow of this border wall. It nearly brought me to tears of joy to see these kids and their mothers having fun, laughing and spending time together. Yet it also broke my heart that people in communities all along the border have grown accustomed to the view of this wall. They live their lives in the shadow of this wall and do yet their best to live as they can. We as human beings can learn a lot from these wonderful people. We live in a world that has a lot of sadness. There is fear, hatred, loneliness, discrimination, and challenges going on everyday. The news if filled with unhappy things that do their best to scare us and bring us down. My hope is that we can be more like these families I got to spend a week with. That we may be able to find the joy and laughter during times of sadness, and learn to love even in times of hatred and fear. Though there is a lot of wrong is this world, I hope we can try to recognize and share the joy that is there also, and learn to step out of the shadows of our dividing walls and embrace all that our world has to offer with hope. |
Archives
November 2023
Categories
All
|