Death and Dreams in the Desert

It was different not to see Alejandro and Jeremias* at the Comedor. They had gone to another part of Mexico, and would be crossing the dangerous border as I write this. The wind was unusually cold in the past two nights they headed there. And I could not imagine them ravaged by the cold nights and the intense heat of the desert. I wished they had brought some warm clothes or a blanket, but that would just add to the weight that they’re carrying. They had more to carry than what I could bear. Fear and uncertainty had to be heavier than any yoke imagined.

The Comedor was unusually quiet when I arrived. The group of Alejandro and Jeremias were not there. I was displaced at the kitchen by Lupita who was manning it after a long vacation. I just met her this morning, and she’s great with Margarita and Carmelita. They were my Trés Marias: the Señoras of the Cucina. And I was their muchacito, doing things at their bidding, with the affection of doting mothers.

On rare occasions, when it dawned on them that I was actually a priest, they called me their padrecito; joking that if I would become a bishop, I should invite them to Las Islas Filipinas. Of course, I said, “Sí!” – knowing that it would never happen, and it shouldn’t. I’d rather die (sorry, bishops!).

As we began to pour Oat Milk-Drinks in plastic glasses, I saw Mateo, Lucas and Marco, the remaining members of Alejandro’s group who decided to stay. I was glad to see Mateo, but I wondered why they all looked so sad with a trace of distress macho men don’t usually show. But their eyes betrayed them. In addition, they were seated with the new migrants. They used to take the special table for migrant volunteers. Sometimes there would be a special item there.

To my surprise, Lucas and Marco did not finish their drinks. They didn’t even have breakfast. I learned from Mateo that they found a job and their employer came to get them before we were able to serve Spanish rice, frijoles, and macaroni in chilli con carne.

But I still could not let go of the feeling that there was something wrong. Was it the type of job that they were vulnerable to? I did not know what they found. But many migrants had fallen into the trap of drug cartels, who could pay them more than they could earn for a month.

At this time, $2000.00 was the running price for crossing the border. I heard women were their contacts. They in turn would assure them that they had contacts at the Indian reserve, because border patrols could not enter reservations. But the downpayment had to be done. Where could you find two thousand bucks if you’re destitute and desperate?

The work at the frontiers, as the Kino Border Initiative, always entails danger, daring, and an almost impossible dream. This is true to us and those we serve. When one’s belonging is as sparse as a glimmer of hope, your dream should be bigger and irresistible than any discouragement. It needs one to be foolish enough to pursue it; and single-hearted enough to take that one chance.

We discourage unauthorized border crossings; but nevertheless, we are present at the crossroad of a migrant’s life, when the choice is life-altering or life- threatening. A record of 2,765 migrants were deported last week; 78 died in the desert from October 2010 to the present. Fr. Sean Carroll SJ, executive director of the Kino Border Initiative, said that it gets worse in the summer, around June to August. In 2009-2010, 214 bodies had been recovered. On 20 February 2008, the body of Josseline Quinteros from El Salvador was found. She died while crossing the Arizona desert. She was 14 years old.

For, what would you give for a chance at a better life? Or, for the open arms of the one you love most? The passionate lover will answer, “Everything” and will do it until the last drop of blood.

I know of Someone who did.

*not their real names.

Discovering a Deep River in the Desert

Undocumented migrants, deported from the US, line up for the meals at the Comedor, the feeding center of the Kino Border Initiative in Mexico.

They come in droves. Every day migrants deported from the United States are brought by bus to the Deconcini gate in Nogales, Sonora. And just as the US close their gates on them, we open our doors twice a day to provide them meals, clothing, and basic medical care as they journey home. The Casa Nazaret provides shelter for vulnerable women migrants traveling alone or with children.

The journey home can mean a return to their families in Mexico or Central America, or another attempt to reunite with their loved ones residing in the US. Studies roughly estimates 25% of the US’s three million undocumented immigrants live in the states of Arizona and California.

Jesus Morales* arrives distraught at our Comedor, the feeding center of the Kino Border Initiative. He says that he is more worried about his mother, 86 years old, living alone in her home in California. His only sister lives in Chicago with a family of her own. He said he has no family in Mexico, and he is the only one supporting her. Worse, her mother is a diabetic. He gives her the insulin shot daily.

The ministry to unauthorized migrants centers in a faith that welcomes strangers and cares for them as brothers and sisters. Jesus’ commandment of love extols hospitality to those who are affected by the crisis of deportation. Moreover, the ministry protects the value of the family. Border policies have broken these family ties that are invaluable in creating a humane society.

However, responding to the problem of migration requires more than just a feeding center, a clinic or a shelter. The crisis is a bi-national concern brought by unjust border policies of both the US and Mexico. The challenge then is to have programs among those affected by the US and Mexican border and migration policies in both sides of the border. That cannot be done without collaboration.

The Kino Border Initiative works and thrives with a network of partners in both sides. In Arizona and Mexico, we work with the Archdiocese of Hermosillo (Mexico) and the Diocese of Tucson in Arizona. Our energetic manager and cook of our kitchen, Sr. Lorena Leyva ME, is a member of the Missionary Sisters of the Eucharist. The sisters also manage the Casa Nazaret. The Jesuit community dedicated to the mission are from the California and the Mexican Province and supported by the US Jesuit Refugee Service. Other groups from other faith traditions assist us like the Samaritans and the No Mas Muerte (No More Deaths) who provide clothing and help at the clinic.

The experience of volunteering in the ministry of migrants allows one to journey into the deeper part of our humanity, where one discovers a place where we are all connected. Like a deep river that unites us, in the very inhospitable place. One discovers that the migrants’ needs are the same as one’s own aspirations. They are worth fighting for.

Printed on David’s** shirt says it all: Human dignity has no borders. La Dignidad humana no tiene fronteras.

*not his real name

**David is a volunteer of the organization, No Mas Muertes (No More Deaths).

For further information about The Kino Border Initiative here’s the link.

Or contact:

Fr. Sean Carroll SJ
Executive Director
Kino Border Initiative
PO Box 159
Nogales, AZ 85628-0159
scarroll@kinoborderinitiative.org

When Migrants Die in the Desert, Who Cares?

(The Comedor of the Kino Border Initiative, Nogales, Sonora, Mexico. Frontera means the Border)

Forcing his luck by taking the dangerous trek through the Sonora desert, Jose and companions Pedro and Francisco* had been rounded and beaten up by gangs on their way back to the United States. They are illegal or unauthorized immigrants and have been deported at the Arizona-Mexican border. They tried their luck again because all their families live in the US. Jose’s mother and only sister are in Cupertino, San Francisco. They are all residents, on their way to become citizens. Citizenship though has been elusive.

I have met Jose at the Comedor, the eating area of the Kino Border Initiative, a Bi-National Mission of the Mexican and California Jesuits. Since he has to stay for two years in Nogales, Sonora before he can apply for a visa, he temporarily volunteers in the mission with the migrants. Pedro and Francisco also wash and dry the dishes and prepare the meals. We serve breakfast and dinner for the deportees.

While drying multi-colored plastic plates and bowls, Jose pours his life story to me. He tells me that he has been in the US for ten years, studied there, has a job and keeps a room for himself. He particularly feels comfortable with me because his closest friend is a Filipino.

Though the legal plan is to get a United States visa, he particularly knows the difficulty: he has a record and he doesn’t have the financial resources needed for the process. But he is desperate: who wouldn’t be if one’s family lives on the other side of the border? He says that he will take the risk again even if it will cost him his life.

He has almost died in one attempt. On his way back through the desert with a group of returnees, one of Jose’s friends has been buried in the ground except his head. A gang has tried to exhort information about drug dealers, by pointing a gun at his head. Jose and companions are not members of the drug cartels.

Many of the deportees have made that way too. But when they are caught, they return to us dehydrated with blistered feet, wounds and burnt skin. Most of all, they come with a beaten spirit. That is why, we have built a small clinic. It is open everyday except Fridays and Sundays. We hope to have it open all week. But as of the moment, Norma, the only nurse must have a day off. Good that other groups like No More Deaths (No Mas Muertes) and the Red Cross come to help. But many have died. From October 2010 to March 2011, the group, No More Deaths, recorded 40 casualties. In October 2010, they recovered human remains in the Sonora desert (click here).

The mission of the Kino Border Initiative is to give humanitarian aid to people like Jose, Pedro and Francisco. The KBI provides food, clothing, and medicines. For the vulnerable such as women and accompanied children, a shelter called the Casa Nazaret run by the Misioneras de la Eucharistia is available for them. Isabel, a temporary resident at the Casa, has lost her middle finger while negotiating the border wall.

When will migrants be treated humanely? I guess when border walls are broken down. I find it ironic that the country that holds democracy at its core has built the tall iron walls to separate them from Mexico; while Germany has broken down the Berlin wall.

I find it more ironic that much of the US now have been formerly Mexican territory. So one Mexican Jesuit says that there is a saying that Mexicans are migrating to the United States to claim their own land. The strategy is ancient: Remember the Trojan Horse?

*not their real names.