I've been sitting in the same spot for an hour, with this blog open, full of empty space to fill. But not knowing what exactly to say, or how to begin.
I guess I could start by saying that once again, my feet walked 75 miles through the desert. For the second year in a row, I participated in the migrant trail, a trek through the Sonoran desert from Sásabe, Mexico to Tucson Arizona. Because I'm sure you are wondering how it works, I will a few logistics:
We walk between 6 and 16 miles per day, starting in the early morning and arriving at our campsite for lunch. We stop every mile and a half or so for water, food and rest. Trucks carry all our supplies so all we have on us while walking are the essentials we need for the moment (water, sunscreen, etc.), as well as a white wooden cross with a name on it. Different organizations come out to feed us an abundant amount of magnificent food. We have everything we need and an endless supply of it. We were a group of 50-some from all over the US and a few other countries as well. And why do we walk?
Let me ask you a question. When I say the phrase "illegal alien" what do you think of? I'm guessing it's something that is completely negative. I had heard recently that during the 90's, and maybe even before, some bigwig paid big bucks to make sure the phrase "illegal alien" was used on national television, and used in a way to provoke fear. I remember hearing that phrase on tv while growing up, and because of that, (and here I will admit my utter ignorance on the subject), illegal alien had come to mean "those bad Mexicans trying to get into the US," - drug smugglers. Does this resonate with what you think of when you think about the southern border and the migrants?
Just 10 minutes ago I googled Sásabe to find out where exactly the accent went. The first website that popped up was called Desert Invasion, all about the "illegal aliens" (to use their term), or drug smugglers, were crossing into Arizona, traveling through the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge, "invading" the land and causing damage to it, and making it a dangerous place. It shows a photo of a water jug found in the desert, stating that it was used by drug smugglers. Websites like this and rhetoric like this is part of why we walk.
The first half of the walk, we ourselves walk through the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge. The land is being destroyed, yes, but not by migrants. It's being destroyed by the border patrol who constantly rip through the land on their ATVs and with their trucks, making drag roads by dragging huge tires being trucks. There are areas where the grounds has been so overrun by border patrol vehicles that our vehicles could not get through it, and we had to wear bandanas to cover our mouths because otherwise, the dust made it too hard to breathe. It was sad to see that land in a wildlife preserve was allowed to be so ripped up and destroyed by vehicles.
We, also, found water bottles, left by migrants. Do you know what else we found? Shoes. Children's shoes. Not just one pair. Drug smugglers? No. Most of that stays on the Mexico side. There are way too many border patrol hunting down migrants for drug smugglers to be doing their work on the US side. The migrants passing through are families. Men needing money to feed and house their families. Farmers needing work, because their own strawberry farm has been shut down because he can't compete with the US price, so in a nasty cycle, he must migrate to the US to work on strawberries that will be sent to Mexico. He risks his life crossing that desert. If he doesn't die in the desert, he could be deported (and when deportation takes place, you don't get to choose where you go...it could be another country). If he makes it, he stays for months, maybe years, sending money back home. And working harder than any American. The fact is, US farmers need migrants to do the work, because the white American is no longer built to work manual labor for such long hours. It's a cruel cycle. Women cross the desert too. And children. People looking for a way to survive. They are not "bad people." They are people. Humans who have a right to the most basic of needs, who have value and worth. This is why we walk. The people who cross the desert, cross the border, have been criminalized and labeled in untrue and harsh ways. We've declared war against the migrant.
I know that sounds dramatic, but if you saw the border at Sásabe, it looks like a war zone. Men dressed in black on their sleep back ATVs ready to hunt down a migrant. It's creepy. When I saw that, I felt I were facing some villain. Think evil spiderman. A war against the poor. This is what it's come to? A country who has flourished from its immigrants reacting in this manner...does not make sense to me. Not only this, but our country has set up killing fields, knowingly. Our border policies were set up so that the weakest areas to cross through are also the most dangerous. Deaths would surely occur, for the desert is not a very accommodating place, and "hopefully" knowing that fact would deter migrants from crossing. But it hasn't. Migrants keep coming, and we have changed nothing on our borders, basically funneling the migrant to their death. It's a crisis of human rights. And we allow it.
The white cross that I mentioned earlier...we carry the name of someone who has attempted to cross and died in the desert. We carry that cross and finish the journey for them. We also carry prayer ties, one for each life that has perished in the desert so far this year. There were 94-96 prayer ties. A migrant was brought into camp one day, Jose. He told of passing two dead bodies during his trek, which he thought to be 7 days, but couldn't be sure. Add two more prayer ties. Two more wooden crosses. Perhaps those crosses will have a name and age. Perhaps their cross will say Desconocido or Desconocida, for an unknown male or female. Or perhaps their cross will say Desconocido/a, which means that not enough remains were found to be able to tell if they were male or female. I carried the cross of Desconocida, unknown female. She could have been 10, 18, 29... She had a story. And she was desperate, risking her life for the chance at a better one. On the last day, we walk into a park in Tucson, setting our crosses at a tree, finishing their journey. I had the immense honor of also carrying the prayer ties. Me, little white girl who no real connection to the border atrocities, got to carry the memory of those 96 lives home, along with my Desconocida. I didn't want to let them go. Desconocida had become a part of me. The reason I was walking.
I think about the migrants every day. I can't help but to wonder how many are out there needing water. Who got left behind from their group just because of a blister that hurt so bad they couldn't walk anymore? Are there any children, making the trek across the unforgiving terrain? How many have died today?
This is the thought that my brain is stuck on, so this is where I will end. Innocent people in need are dying because of policies we have put in place simply to keep people out. We are not a very giving people, are we? This should not be.
I'm still learning. I don't have all the information, and I'm probably saying things still that are a little ignorant. But I walk, and I write this, because I feel it's my duty. In my circles of people, this humanitarian crisis is virtually unknown. I want you to know. I want you to know that there is a humanitarian crisis going on in our own country. I will continue to walk until this crisis ends. I will continue to pray with my feet.
