Gracias por la Vida

Wed, Jan 15

On the Job

It’s the first day and we got right to work. Jack took us across the border to the Migrant Resource Center and we immediately did two accompaniments. First, we escorted one young man from the tent on the border wall to our center, and then a young man and his little girl (under two years old). The walk doesn’t take even five minutes, but the streets are dangerous for these migrants. Likely to be hanging around are men who are prone to kidnap a migrant for the sake of getting a ransom from his or her family. Of course, the danger is even greater for women who are at risk of also being raped. We hope to make migrants safer with our presence.

On the walks today, I found myself being very alert, checking out the men on the streets, trying to assess how trustworthy they were. Jack says we should probably just be suspicious of everyone. It’s an uncomfortable feeling. We’re like a little team of nonviolent bodyguards on guard against a kidnap attempt. Jack says the kidnappers are unhappy with us (the accompaniers) because we are basically preventing them from making money. Which means that we are also in a risky position.

But that’s what accompaniment means. Putting our white privileged selves out there as a shield for others and risking possible harm to ourselves. CPT is quite cautious as it goes about this task. No one ever accompanies alone. We walk with clear identifiers – rose colored vests. And we keep the fence around the migrant center locked at all times. We keep to our simple job of walking people to and from the tents to the center and don’t try to do other things. If people want medical care or other kinds of help, we refer them to CAME (Centro de Atención al Migrante Exodus). We just do our one thing.

This evening we had dinner together at Jack and Linda’s. This will be the norm – it takes the place of the daily CPT debriefing and builds the community. There are six of us here right now. We all talked about our day and about the situation here in Douglas/Agua Prieta. And it felt warm and like family. It was a nice way to end the first day on the job.

Thurs, Jan 16

Thankfulness Shining Through

One of the young men in the tent by the port of entry is here in Agua Prieta with his mother, wife, and little 2-year old girl. The family is staying elsewhere, not in the tent with him. But they joined him last night in order to be together today because it is the little one’s second birthday. We walked them all over this morning to the Migrant Resource Center, through a dim, drizzly day.

Even though Melody and I didn’t have much of an exchange with them because we can’t speak the language, I was still happy to be with them. The little girl ran straight to the corner with the toys and proceeded to drag a bunch of them off the shelves onto the floor and busy herself. The abuela sat down at the table almost right away to take her weight off her aching knees. Mom and dad talked quitely, checked their phones, took showers, and puttered around the center a little. Dad emptied and cleaned out the jar they’ve been urinating in while at the camp.

After a while, a group of local volunteers brought a hot lunch for the family – beans, rice, and pork. They invited us to stay to join them and we sat at the table and had a great mid-day meal. Before the meal, we went around saying prayers and reflections of gratitude. It took a while, even though we were few. I said I was grateful to be able to be here now and to be graced to accompany them on their important journey. I’m not sure what everyone else said in español, but I could tell there was a lot they felt thankful for.

Abuela had made a beautiful little birthday cake, covered in m&m’s, for her sweet two-year old. But they didn’t have the birthday party at lunch. They were waiting for the evening meal. I kept imagining myself in their shoes: a family celebrating its baby’s birthday while they are all in such dire circumstances, running for their lives. A joyful light in the darkness.

We walked them back to the tent and each of them in turn gave us a warm hug of gratitude. Thankfulness shining through.

Sat, Jan 18

Life Goes by Fast

This morning, I saw a meme on Facebook that said: “The most important gifts you can give are your love, time, and attention. Slow down, take time to smile and enjoy loved ones… life goes by way too fast.” It occurs to me that this is what we are doing with our accompaniment here. And I’m finding that we can do this even when we can hardly speak to people (because of the language difference). How fortunate I feel.

We are working within a system that has been set up by churches and faith-based volunteers in Agua Prieta that has evolved over a couple of decades to assist migrants. Recently, it has had to adapt and expand in response to the recent US policy of “metering," where the US customs only allows a limited number of people to come in each day at the port of entry to apply for asylum. We know what happens to those who try to come in by crossing the border otherwise – they are detained and incarcerated. At some other ports of entry, especially larger ones such as Juarez or Tijuana, this metering has created huge and dangerous refugee camps on the Mexican side and desperate people risking death by going outside of the fortified cities to take their chances going through the desert. Those in the camps often fall prey to criminal kidnapping, trafficking, and rape; those trying the desert die in large numbers. The brutal policy of funneling people into the desert is called “Prevention Through Deterrence.”

In Agua Prieta, the system, honored by US Customs, works fairly well to keep people safe. The Centro de Atención al Migrante Exodus (CAME), established 19 years ago by the Parochia Sagrada Familia Catholic parish, is the initial contact point and shelter for arriving migrants. There people get their names on a list so that they move through the metering process in an orderly way. CAME can shelter up to 44 people; others find another place to stay before there is room for them at CAME. By order of arrival, people move up the list to the point of moving to the tent just outside the port of entry. From there, US Customs takes them in, one person or family at a time, according to its own unknown schedule. From the tents, it can take a day or a week to be called over to the “other side.” The Centro de Recursos para Migrantes (CRM, aka Migrant Resource Center) plays the support role for those who are moved to the tent.

Our role is with the CRM, working with local volunteers. Here’s how it works. There are 3 shifts where we bring people from the tent to CRM: 7 - 9 am, 11 am – 2 pm, 4 – 6 pm. Our routine is pretty much the same each shift: we put on identifying rose-colored vests that say Apoyo a Migrantes on the back; we go to the tent, then walk whoever is there through the streets to the center, one of us in front and one of us in back (and one on the side if we have three of us); we hang out at the center, where the migrants rest, talk, have coffee, food, showers, toilets, and minor medical attention, and watch their kids play with some toys. Here, they can also replenish certain things as needed (water, blankets, clothes). Then we walk them back to the tent. Normally, there is always one person who stays at the tent to mind their belongings and respond the the US customs agents if someone is called to “cross over” for their asylum hearing.

Each day here is another opportunity to be present with brothers and sisters making this incredible journey. I find myself wondering how I would be handling the experience if the shoe were on the other foot – i.e., if I were the one escaping murderous conditions in my own country to migrate to a foreign country where I couldn’t speak the language and didn’t know how I would get by if I were ever allowed to be there. It’s scary, and I am struck with a profound respect and admiration for the people who are having to go through this. It’s an honor and  privilege to able to accompany them on this small leg of their trip, as life goes by fast.