June 6 2010 - We're home. Although I left Tucson a week ago, I feel like this blog deserves at least one last entry (although 14 last entries would be awesome lol), for memory's sake if nothing else. Yesterday afternoon, while walking around Boulder,CO I stumbled upon a bookstore called Left Hand Books a store dedicated to "providing access to alternative viewpoints - Kirstan- May 19th
Tucson is hot today and it makes me sleepy and happy. After weeding at Borderlinks last week, we found rocks. Lots of rocks that were big and small, and with them, we decorated the yard. It’s looking quite beautiful. It’s a nice place to be in the mornings with a cup of coffee and toast, and it’s a fun space to laugh after sunset. To give our blistered hands a break last week, Maeva and I ventured to the Community Food Bank with Maryellen to collect ingredients for Southside’s Cross Street Ministries program. Added to my list of things to do: Found a food bank. After stuffing Maryellen’s station wagon with fresh produce and rolls and brownies and pasta and shampoo and other things for free, we drove to Southside and prepared Friday morning’s meal for the homeless. I think I’ve said it before, but I like it at Southside. It’s a community that works. When I lace my shoes and jog in the mornings, I share smiles with people I’ve shared meals with, and it makes me feel like I’m a part of this place. Thursday was a day that made me hopeful but it also made my heart hurt. With students from Cesar Chavez, we drove and drove until we found the desert. The U of M students and Cesar Chavez students collected things left behind on a migrant trail. Water bottles with messages. Blankets. Empty cans of beans. On the drive home through the rocky back roads with hills like a rollercoaster’s, I heard the sound of air rushing. I think we all did. But we all just kept holding on. Finally the van behind us was honking and there were hands flailing outside the windows. Oh, yes. The sound of air rushing. We sure did have a flat tire. We stood looking at it with our hands on our hips in the heat, and then Miguel came running toward us from the Cesar Chavez van. Some time in his fourteen years he learned to change a tire in less than five minutes. Miguel saved the day. And a van full of college students with a lot of knowledge but not a lot of the kind we needed just then. When we got back to Cesar Chavez we made art out of the abandoned water bottles with the direction of a locally famous artist. We created really beautiful things out of really sad stories, but I think the sadness is part of what turned the trash into art. I think it was the mix of youth and hope and death and no more chances that made the day such an overwhelming one. Friday we spent more time on the road and drove to the Tohono O’odham Reservation. We visited the Sells Indian Hospital and spoke with Dr. Warner, who still cries when she remembers migrants she’s seen struggle and suffer and not make it out alive. We also spoke with Ofelia, an O’odham elder. She had so many beautiful and important things to say. “What do the O’odham think about the militarization of the border?” someone asked, and she said the loveliest thing, “When will it stop? Will they also demand to see the papers of the wind and birds that cross over that line?” Few times in my life have I heard an explanation so logical and beautiful. On the way home from the Res, Libby, Emily, Nate, Collette, Ersida and I were listening to static-y country music with all of the windows down and we were all giddy for the Grand Canyon. And then the Border Patrol truck in front of us flashed its lights and made a fast U-turn. We slowed as we passed, and from the comfort of our van saw five Mexican men, packs slung over their shoulders, caught. We all got really quiet and the static from the radio became unbearable. I put on my sunglasses to hide the tears that I couldn’t stop from falling. The men who had traveled so far and survived so much, all together, would be torn apart and imprisoned or shipped back across the border and dropped off in places they had never been. There’s a world of difference between knowing how many people get caught crossing the border every day and seeing actual people losing their dreams. Six of us woke up early Saturday morning to stand in line for a permit to spend the night in the Canyon. We began our hike down to the Mesa after stocking up on bars for energy and lots of water. Warning for future Grand Canyon visitors: “exposure” really does mean that with every step the tips of your little hiking shoes are exposed to the edge of the canyon. And the bottom doesn’t come for forever. Scary. Poor Collette got really sick on our hike down, but she was a trooper. We woke up early Sunday morning and when I unzipped our tent, the sun was rising. The cold air rushed in, and I felt so alive. I stood in the chill of the morning on the edge of the Mesa and loved how I felt. The next night at the campsite the whole group was together again and it was the best time. Hotdogs and burgers and s’mores and friendship bracelets and growing closer. Every day I feel closer to all of the people here. People who were strangers to me less than a month ago have become people I confide in and tell my story to and am completely myself around. Our closeness is a part of this trip that has surprised me, and it is one of the most valuable things I’ll take home with me from Tucson. We leave for the desert very soon. We are going to be such adventurers. Sara
May 19th: Summary since May 11th Hey all, I have experienced so much this past week, visiting the Tohono O'odham Nation to catching the stomach flu at the Grand Canyon. So, during my visit to the O’odham Nation we received a tour of the Sell Hospital. We met EMS personnel that explained the types of emergency responses he takes (car accidents to desperate migrants) and the hospital’s relationship with the US Federal Government. Then we met two social workers. They both explained the relationship the hospital has with the native people. Finally our doctor tour guide sat us down and answered all our questions. During this time I had an urge to translate (in Spanish) to our Mexican delegate (I actually knew how to translate what was spoken), but I was not close enough to her to help. Later in the day, we visited an indigenous O’odham woman, Ophelia. She shared her people’s history and her story. She was very open about her experiences. She story, as an activist, reminded me of Rigoberta Menchú (without experiencing direct militant violence). She is a voice of her people, being sent as a representative to Bolivia- where she met indigenous president Evo Morales. Later that day she took us to the border to straddle the border wall (Very Exciting). This past weekend, the Grand Canyon was an experience for me. Honestly, once I arrived to the Canyon I was not in the best of moods. I felt overwhelm because our group was separated and our facilitator was ill. Luckily, my group roughed it out and we set up camp. Although, I have started a campus fire, I have never camped. So I am proud that I got the experience of actually camping with other relatively amateur campers. Although, the Canyon was amazing, I left the Canyon on a sour note. I caught the Tucson Stomach Flu. During the last night I my entire system flushed. I simultaneously had to use the restroom and puke! Now, I am working with Cesar Chavez Academy. Part of my group is doing a photo workshop. I am working with two high school students. These guys are hilarious and amazing. They have a great relationship with everyone within the multi-level school. They began to take photos of everyone and thing! Hopefully, we can learn each other’s stories! That’s it for now, Marcus May 19th Hello from one of the few of us who have not yet been dominated by the sickness that is creating a sort of mini pandemic amongst our team! These past few days have been incredible. And if I can get this camera to work, pictures are on the way. Although, all of the pictures that I’ve taken, especially some of the fantastic landscapes we’ve seen, won’t even get close to the beautiful things we’ve experienced. I think I’m going to blog about my favorite part of the missed time in our blog, which was the Grand Canyon. After a completely chaotic morning, we were on the road safely, having a great time bonding in the car, and Maeva even brought a coloring book! That was really fun as we all colored our favorite scenes from Disney movies. On the way up we started to see the terrain change into more Michigan looking territory. Trees! Water! Even snow capped mountains! I was really excited to see those. We got to the campsite and settled in after a bit of confused driving, and started the fire because that is just how awesome we are. For some people it was their first time camping, so it was fun to see the new experiences of pitching tents, eating smores, and of course, sleeping on the cold hard ground through their eyes. We were in such a large, wooded area though, it was hard not to be like, “So…where is the Grand Canyon exactly??” The next morning we set off after deciding which trail to take, one on the Bright Angel trail, which is very steep, but popular with great views, as our newspaper guide said. Ladan and I decided to do the 3 miles round trip hike, going 1.5 miles into the canyon, while Jessie, Marcus, Yusra, Maeva and Kirstin did the 6 miles round trip. How impressive is that right? J All the way down we goofed around taking pictures, singing Michigan cheers and other fun songs such as “Aint No Mountain High Enough”. People we passed thought we were funny and it kept us in high spirits as we went wayyyy down. The first crossover the edge was kind of scary for me, because at one moment I was on the top, level ground, and the next we were on a thin, dusty rocky path, looking to our right into this hugely deep canyon. Until I got used to it I was definitely clinging to the rocks on the inside. After lunching together at the 1.5 miles point, Ladan and I started heading back up towards the surface. Boy did I learn my lesson. The walk down is fun, the walk up is very trying, but rewarding. I remember looking up at these giant rock faces and trying to remember when exactly I passed them, or comparing them to approximately how many floors in a sky scraper. 15 floors? 25 floors? It was a little scary to look up and see such height. But we finally made it! After poking my head above the trail and being on level ground, I was so exhilarated and proud that I could say I hiked the Grand Canyon and that the rest of our team had done so too. Ladan and I waited for the others to return, noticing all the different nationalities of people there and how far they must have travelled like us to get there. My other favorite part about the Grand Canyon was what it was like at night. Very cold? Yes. But by far the best part were the stars. There were more stars than sky. Stars I had never seen before in my entire life because there was so little light pollution to block my views. Because we’ll be in the desert soon with even more open sky and even less light pollution, I’m definitely looking forward to that part of our week in the desert, even if I’m not looking forward so much to the daytime portion. Haha! Be back before ya know it, Chelsey
May 19th May 14th – Visiting Ofelia Rivas at the Tohono O’odham reservation On Friday, the whole group drove for hours through the desert to travel to the Tohono O’odham reservation. Earlier, at Borderlinks, we learned that part of the function of the huge, imposing border fence we’d seen in Nogales had been to funnel migrants through the Sonoran desert and the Tohono O’odham nation – much more dangerous crossing areas, where many migrants die. This strategy is called ‘death as deterrent’ – the idea that other would-be migrants would hear about the horrible deaths their predecessors had suffered in the desert and would decide not to cross. By traveling to the reservation and talking with O’odham and activist, Ofelia Rivas, we hoped to better understand the native American perspective on the border issue and how this was impacting their community. Along the way to Ofelia’s house, we passed yet another border patrol checkpoint, and saw many border patrol vehicles. I remember when I first arrived in Arizona, I’d be very excited to see one of those cars and try to take a picture of it. At this point, it’s just become commonplace. Once you get out into the desert, at least half the cars on the road are border patrol. When we finally arrived, one of the first things Ofelia said to us was “Welcome.” She told us if no one had ever welcomed us to this continent before, she was welcoming us as one of the first people. It drove home the point that many of our ancestors had come to this continent just as illegally as the immigrants who were now coming – and with much more aggression and ill will. I tried not to feel guilty - the mistakes my ancestors made aren’t my fault - but I think in a sense it was important to learn from the lessons of history. We can’t claim the moral high ground, at all, in calling this country ours. The brutality with which we enforce an arbitrary border therefore stands out as completely senseless in the vaster picture of history. Ofelia told us a lot of stories, but one of them which really disturbed me was about a government group who had gone out to scout areas where they planned to put up a fence. They brought an O’odham guide with them, purportedly to prevent them from digging up any important sites. However, when they arrived at one area, their guide told them it was actually a graveyard of their ancestors – bones that had been buried there for thousands of years. The ground was dug up and the fence was built there anyway. It amazed me that we could so callously disturb the ancient resting places of this land’s first people, who we had slaughtered, oppressed, and marginalized, in order to create a border to keep out other immigrants. I don’t know how we justify this to ourselves, or if the people behind this even know what they’re doing. I’d like to think that it’s just a lack of understanding, but I worry that it isn’t. It reminds me of an article I read years ago, in high school, where the author wrote, “Whether we admit or not…we recognize that we have the advantage of the hour, and we fight to keep it, maybe not with open action, but with our ideologies and lies.” We learned about a lot of other ways that the militarization of the border has disturbed the ancient O’odham way of lie. I was sickend by stories of abuse by border patrol, how they refuse to allow O’odham to pass over the border, even with their tribal identification cards. The designated ports of entry severely lengthen the distance of the journey require for the O’odham to reach their destinations on the other side of the border. The U.S.-Mexico border splits the O’odham nation in two, creating a new and artificial separation between the people. In the
car ride on the way home, the sun was setting and migrants had begun to move.
In the space of a few miles, we saw nine migrants, in two groups, being
apprehended by border patrol. They’d made it this far – through miles of
desert, into the United States – and now were going to be turned back. Earlier
at Borderlinks, we’d talked about how NAFTA’s unfair treatment of United States
and Mexican farmers had been a major factor in the suffering of Mexican farmers
and the influx of migrants into the United States. One of the Borderlinks
leaders told us that NAFTA, like many other unjust policies, intended that
there be “winners and losers” and accepted that this was necessary. As we drove
back to Tucson, Sherrie said, “It seems like there are a whole lot of losers.” I
think there are too many – the Mexican citizens, the O’odham, the migrants, the
people living in now-militarized border communities, people living in the United States who face
racial profiling and discrimination due to tension surrounding border and
immigration issues, even the wildlife that’s been disrupted by construction of
the huge fence. I don’t know where the list ends, but there is definitely
something very wrong with the picture out here. Yusra Oral Although it has been a few days since this incidence initially occurred, it is definitely a story that needs to be told… We had the luxury of attending a wonderful night observation program at Kitt Peak National Observatory on Saturday, May 8th. The great night of sunset watching, planet viewing, and stargazing came to an end and we embarked on our blind trek down the mountainside. We had to caravan about a mile down the mountain without headlights due to the interference “white light” can have on the astronomers research. I was one of the chosen ones to navigate a van full of people down using nothing more than the break lights of the car in front of us as guidance. We made it down to the bottom without a scratch only to come face-to-face with what turned into being a more intimidating threat. About a half hour down the road we approached a Border Patrol checkpoint. We waited our turn in line, pulled up to the group of stern faced officers equipped with their dark green uniforms, gold badges, walky-talkies, night sticks, etc. I stopped the car just short of the drug-sniffing dogs as each of the 5 agents glared into our van from all sides. I looked the Border Patrol agent at the passenger window straight in the eye and he motioned me to proceed forward. I began to pull away, but instantly heard screaming from behind our car. Emily had been laying flat across the back seat sleeping as we pulled up to the checkpoint so I was convinced they had spotted her as we pulled away. I rolled my window down to speak to a tall, Caucasian, very intimidating man. Whatever there reason was to stop us, he asked us to pull over to the side of the road and told the rest of the agents “I can handle this one”. Once on the side of the road I was terrified. I had no idea what we had done wrong. In light of our discussion of the new law (SB 1070) being passed in Arizona, my mind was flooded with fear: do we all have identification?, do we all need identification? are we going to get in trouble for Emily sleeping in the back?, who is in the car with me?, are they doing anything wrong?, are we going to be able to talk our way out of whatever we could have possibly done wrong? The questions were endless. I was scared of my own identity in my own country. Believe it or not, I was scared I could be apprehended and taken into custody because I was unable to prove my citizenship. The fact that I was feeling this, I can’t begin to imagine the panic some of the others in the car were feeling. The interaction proceeded as follows: The border patrol agent first asked me (a Caucasian, blonde haired female) if I was a citizen of the U.S. I answered yes. He then looked at Marcus, an African-American, in the passenger seat and asked him if he was a U.S. citizen. Marcus said yes. He then looked to the 2nd row of seats where Ersida and Ladan were seated. He began with Ersida (a dark haired, Caucasian of Eastern European decent). He asked the same repetitive question. Ersida responded that she was not a U.S. citizen. He then asked her what country she was a citizen of. She responded Albania. She immediately told him that she was a permanent U.S. resident and that she had proof. He asked her to present them to him. He examined her Michigan driver’s license and green card for what seemed like an eternity. Then abruptly, in a cold tone, asked her what her name was. Followed by her birthday. Followed by her address. I guess her correct answers were proof enough for him… The agent then turned to Ladan (a Muslim female of African decent who wears a Hijab) and instantly asked her what country she was a citizen of—notice the change in question structure from are you a citizen of the U.S. to what country are you a citizen of. Ladan replied that she was a citizen of the U.S. The agent responded by asking how long she had been a citizen. She replied 5 years. He then asked what country she was born in. She responded Somalia. Finally he asked her how she gained her citizenship. She responded in a very upbeat and polite tone that she obtained it through nationalization. He quickly asked if her parents were citizens and she responded yes. I guess her hasty and informed responses were sufficient enough… He then peered into the way back to Emily, a dark haired Caucasian female. I assume that all the commotion had woken her up by this point. He asked his usual question of whether or not she was a U.S. citizen and she responded that she was. Then, in what we have determined was an attempt to “disguise” his previous questioning, asked Emily where she was born. She responded Grand Rapids, Michigan. The whirlwind was over. He tapped the side of our car and told us we could go. I apologized again. For what? Your question is as good as mine. I don’t know about you…but if you ask me this was blatant racial profiling. I am still in shock and we are all still trying to wrap our minds around it all. -Collette May 10th It’s been a beautiful couple of days in Tucson. On Friday we ventured to the border. We parked at McDonald’s in Nogales, Arizona. From there, we could see a wall that reached out for as long as we could see. I expected to be really overwhelmed by the vastness and militarization of the border, and while I definitely felt heaviness in my gut, I was mostly struck by the ridiculousness of the wall. From a hill in Nogales, Arizona, I stood looking at Nogales, Mexico, and the places looked so much the same. I saw a twelve-foot barrier constructed of Vietnam landing strips on an arbitrary line, dividing what was once a singular, friendly community. We spoke with a man who has lived in the same house on the northern side of the fence for his entire life. He had a lot to say about “those people over there.” Mostly he talked about his two big dogs. A few of us also approached a Border Patrol Officer, stationed in a rock-proof SUV (its big engine running) on top of a dusty hill. The officer was polite and informative. He spoke about the number of migrants he sees crossing the border every day (a few), what he does when he sees them (he shoots pepper balls at them, detains them in the back of his truck, and waits for transport to bring them back to Nogales, Mexico or to Tucson to be imprisoned and tried in Streamline), and his opinion of his job (that it’s fun). He ended by telling us, “It’s not really safe for you all to be here. They’re relentless. They don’t care who they hit when they’re throwing things up here.” And by that time it was time to go back to Tucson, where fewer stones are being thrown, but where there is a violence all its own. A tension that hangs in the air all the time. We went to Kitt Peak on Saturday. It was so pretty to see stars from 7,000 feet up. The navy sky glittered and it looked like all the world was freckled with light. The wind was strong and its force felt violent at first, but then I closed my eyes and it felt like a hug. I felt pretty connected to where I stood and where I stand. The alarm sounded mean at 5:00 on Sunday morning. The drive was long to Organ Pipe National Cactus Monument. My nerves fluttered as the flat land grew hilly. My first hike ever. Up and down the side of a chiseled mountain. But it was so beautiful. From the moment I stepped out of the van. And as we climbed, the rock and the red soil and the view that lasted forever became so beautiful I had chills in the middle of the desert. I have never experienced anything like the thrill of climbing a mountain with five new adventurous friends who are good to me and to the world. Early in the morning on Mondays and Fridays, at Southside Presbyterian Church, we juice oranges and serve breakfast. We’re starting to make friends there. It’s nice to do something nice before 9 a.m. So, the Borderlinks’ yard was very weedy. Now it’s not. I was so happy today, cutting into the cracking dirt with a shovel that blistered my hands. The sun freckled my shoulders and I could taste the earth when the dust flew. Classic rock danced all around. Being in the garden reminded me of the closeness of immigration issues to my home so many miles north. Because growing food is one way that people in my hometown are connected to people who migrated into the United States from Mexico. Because it is the hard labor of Mexican migrants that put food on my table all of my life. Because land and food is a way that we are all connected, regardless of the walls that keep us separate. Every day is very lovely. I’m living so much here. Sara May 10, 2010: CHRPA and the beginning of week 2 I honestly feels like I’ve spent way more than a week here. I originally thought that not going into Mexico was going to be a major setback, and that there wasn’t as much to gain by staying north of the border. I am realizing that I couldn’t have been more wrong. You absolutely do not need a passport to have a cultural immersion experience. I am amazed every time I walk outside and can see mountains in the horizon. I am amazed at being stopped along a major highway and having my citizenship questioned. I love how willing people are to just stop and talk with you here. Today was my first day working at CHRPA (Community Home Repair Project in Arizona). Libby, Marcus, Emily and I will be there through Friday, doing home repairs for low income individuals in the Pima County Area. I was assigned to work with Kristine. Kristine began volunteering with CHRPA through her church 2.5 years ago and is now a full time employee. Our project was to build a set of stairs outside of a mobile home for an elderly woman who lives about 45 min north of Tucson (Nana, this woman reminded me SO much of you. She laughs like you, makes jokes like you, and brags about her grandkids, probably just like you do J ). When we got there and talked to her we realized that she needed a ramp because she cannot use steps, so instead of getting started with building today, we drew a design for a ramp (I loved this part) and bought the necessary lumber. Tomorrow starts the hard stuff. I’m really exciting though, by the end of the week, we will have built a ramp! In the meantime, I think the time has been getting along great. I cannot even begin to describe our team dynamics, so I will leave that task to someone much more eloquent that I [*cough*cough* FAITH]. But there is never a dull moment. And we’re all living up to our responsibilities to each other as teammates and functioning as a unit. It’s awesome. In other news, we are no longer alone in Borderlinks. Lake Forest College will be living with us this week. And the shower wars begin… - Kirstan
P.S. I've had an infinite number of formatting issues, and I have NO clue why this entire entry is underlined...
May 10th: South Side Presbyterian Church and Working at the Borderlinks Garden This week the team split up into three groups to do different work in the community. Next week, the groups will all switch jobs. Maeva, Chelsey, Sara, and I were all assigned to work in the 'garden' at the Borderlinks center. Borderlinks places a strong emphasis on locally grown, organic food, and having a functioning vegetable garden can be very helpful in preparing sustainable meals.
This morning, the 'garden' team and a few dedicated others got up early to arrive at South Side Presybterian Church's day labor program by 6:30. South Side runs a center for day laborers and the homeless, ensuring that the latter are treated fairly and paid by their employers, as well as providing clothes, haircuts, and meals to Tucson's migrant and homeless populations. At South Side, we helped prepare and serve breakfast. The whole team had been to South Side once before all together and I was impressed by how many of us were willing to get up so early for an optional second trip. It's very rewarding work, and the people who come by to eat , as well as the regular Church volunteers, are refreshingly welcoming and friendly. After we finished serving, we sat down to eat with them and it provided an interesting opportunity to connect with people very unlike ourselves. However, though the differences between us might have been stark in terms of health, age, and privilege, it wasn't very difficult to have a conversation with them. The way they joked and teased each other reminded me of my sisters at home, and their seemingly easy inclusion of us in that friendship amazed me. I don't know how real their welcome was, but I remain pleasantly surprised by how borders can be so effortlessly and unceremoniously overcome. We headed back to Borderlinks, arriving at 9:30. The 'garden' team headed straight outside and set to work in the yard. The back of Borderlinks' lot was overgrown with weeds and fairly unorganized. We found shovels and pickaxes (I think) in the shed and started hacking up weeds and grass. We set all the foliage aside to dry out and add to the compost pile. The work got harder and more tiring as the day wore on, but it was incredibly rewarding to see the ground we'd cleared and how much better it looked. I actually remember realizing as I swung my shovel that I was grinning - it was a lot more fun than I'd have expected. I love doing work that gives me a chance to see what I've accomplished, and this definitely fit the bill. The sense of clearing away old weeds to build a new, beautiful garden reminded me of what I came on this trip for. Yesterday, I jokingly asked Jessi how long she thought it would take before we started changing. I think I found my answer. Finally getting started on actual work, and working hard all day, made me feel incredibly satisfied with myself and my abilities - and gave me a chance to push myself further. This has been my favorite day of the trip so far, and I'm so excited to keep working at Borderlinks - and to work at Cesar Chavez next week! Yusra Oral
May 8th: Local Intolerance Today, I looked intolerance in the face. A group of us went to a local café, Café Passe. I was extremely excite to eat and have a homemade smoothie, until I saw a sign that read: "We have the Right to deny service to ANYONE." And the sign had anyone underlined. Now, this was not a very large sign nor posted on the door of the café, but it was visible since I saw it. I originally refused to eat at the café and I grab a delicious burger up the street at Lindy's (yes, I am plugging places). However, most of our group already ordered their food and I decided to return to eat with them. On our way out, I ask a worker the meaning of the sign. She gave me a perplexed expression, so I further proclaimed, "Normally restaurants have the right to deny services to trouble making individuals." She said yes that's is the mean, so I went further to ask why is it appropriate to post, anyone (and have it underline). I asked, "isn't that an unwritten business code of conduct?" And another work jumped in and said I was being disruptive. She demanded I speak with the manager. So I asked for her and was told she is not in. They gave me her a number and said call her later, and I figured the number was to the store. So I called to leave a voice message and was told to hang up because they do not have a voice mail system. One nice lady told me to just write out my concern. And the rude worker told me they will not provide pen or paper. So Yusra gave me some and when I finish writing my letter, I was told to mail it into the store. I was livid at this moment, I thought customer feed back was always wanted. I did not plan to point out any individual employee, just wanted a response and possibly ask the café to post a new sign (indicating a change of anyone to persons deemed unruly for proper business). What if I wanted to write a letter thanking these employees for a job well done? Would I have been given the paper? Why did one worker feel the need to argue and be so difficult (I only summarized my conflict with her)? That sign, to me, was reminiscent of past racial, gender, and current sexual orientation intolerance. I find it interesting that our group came down to the border to address immigration intolerance, only to find a need for more progressive changes towards past rights struggles. It's shameful that this incident overshadowed the Kitt Peak adventure or the border patrol encounter we (the group) had on this day. Marcus Smith May 6th, 2010 Oh hey there loved ones and other adventurers’ loved ones. I’m sitting in Epic Café in Tucson, listening to live music that makes my heart beat fast, surrounded by really lovely people. I’m struggling a little to put into a few words all that I’ve experienced in the past few days. The road trip was windy and a little grimy and full of pit stops at the world’s largest rocker and the western hemisphere’s largest cross (yes, actually) and the Cadillac Ranch and tiny gas stations and diners in small towns that reminded me of home. Arriving in Tucson was a little unreal and disorienting. Everything since then has been a whirlwind of passion and outrage and activism. It’s so inspiring to be here, surrounded by people who see past the politics and the stereotypes. It’s encouraging to speak with organizations like the Border Action Network and Coalición de Derechos Humanos, who fight everyday to give a voice to Mexican migrants and the Latino population in Tucson; who remember the people who are caught in the middle of the highly political war that is making the border such a violent place. I’m not really sure how to segue into talking about Operation Streamline, and I’m a little nervous about not getting all of the facts right. I really encourage everyone to research what’s happening in federal courtrooms in border cities across America. In a nutshell, here’s what I learned today: Mexicans attempting to cross the border are being strategically funneled into Arizona. Hundreds of miles of tall walls have been built along the U.S./Mexico border. However, where the desert sprawls vast and dry and hot, there are no walls. We’ve heard several times from several sources that this was by no means an accident. The U.S. government is funneling migrants through Tucson for several reasons, but predominately because people will inevitably die crossing the Sonoran Desert, and it was predicted that as this news spread, it would deter other Mexicans from crossing into the United States. Migrants die every day due to dehydration and exposure to the extreme elements, but people keep crossing. It is estimated that between 1,000 and 1,500 people cross the border between Mexico and the U.S. everyday in Tucson alone. Operation Streamline is the first time in history that simply entering the U.S. without papers has been criminalized. It was implemented to enforce a zero tolerance policy against undocumented immigration. Not surprisingly, the government soon discovered that it was not capable of trying and incarcerating thousands of people everyday, so instead, in just Tucson, 70 migrants are randomly chosen from the pool of a thousand people who attempt to cross the border daily. And every day, at 1:30 in the afternoon, 70 migrants are given a mass trial. Today, like every other day, every migrant pled guilty to the misdemeanor of illegally entering the country. As of now, there is no way for a person with a criminal record to gain U.S. citizenship. Not ever. So because of this unjust, and unconstitutional process, which has been referred to by the few compassionate public defenders as “McJustice,” the unlucky individuals who are subject to this disgusting dehumanization will never have the opportunity to come to the United States legally. It does not matter that they came to the U.S. to work, to provide for their families who are desperate and hungry, to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and live out the altogether forgotten “American Dream.” Because they were born on the unfortunate side of an arbitrary line, they stand in chains with confusion in their eyes and uncaring public defenders at their backs while I sit on a bench in an empty audience with tears in my eyes, looking on, wondering how I could be unaware of the atrocity happening in this country. I could go on forever about how it felt to feel my heart break today, about the ringing in my ears from the sound of chains hitting chains and dragging on the floor, about the smell of the desert and the sweat on brown skin, about the way my eyes connected with migrants’ eyes for a moment as they shuffled out of the courtroom into an unknown abyss, and I know our hearts will be kindred forever. I could go on forever. But the farmer’s market came, and with it a smile again. I spoke to so many neat farmers who are in touch with the land and the food it provides and the blue, blue sky. A note to end on: cactus tastes like green beans with a kick. I’m a fan. I’m a fan of this place. With so much love, Sara May 6th: My Perspective Having grown up only about 5 hours from one of the most active Mexican-American borders in the United States, immigration politics and border issues have always been a part of my life. Until now, however, I've felt as though I never really knew enough about the diverse array of perspectives on undocumented immigration to form my own educated opinion. While my thoughts on undocumented immigration still remain largely unformed, I'm finding our daily activities very insightful and helpful in understanding the reality of our immigration policies and issues associated with them. Today we visited the Tucson Federal Court to watch the "streamlined" proceedings, where 70 migrants from Mexico and Central and South America who were captured, detained, then transported to the court were tried together for illegal entry then sentenced--time served to 150 days incarceration. It was very disgusting in my opinion to see our judicial system processing these migrants in such an unjust and inhumane manner. No words can describe the theatrical performance we witnessed today, where public defenders simply went through the motions with literally no hope for their defendants, knowing full well that every migrant in that room would be stamped with at the very least a permanent petty crime regardless of what they said. My words don't do justice to how unjust "streamlining" really is, so I want to conclude this post with a request. To all those who read this post: please spend the next 10 minutes researching operation streamline and see for yourself the shocking process some of our border states have adopted. Nate Coggins May 6th: What I've learned My first blog yay! After the very long drive its so nice to be in Tucson! The sun is intense and its very hot and I've never seen cacti, mountains or palm trees before, but I feel like by the end of this trip they're going to be my most favorite things. Today was a big day for our team. We did a legal immigration simulation this morning, which made me really frustrated with the way the laws are set out, they are so convoluted and complex and overly complicated. Its just a bunch of paper pushers taking way too long to help people in the way that they need to be helped. So man exceptions and side rules and asterisks! Then we had a presentation from Kat Rodriguez at Derechos Humanos and she was great. Very passionate and personable and real. She inspired me, I found myself wishing that Michigan wasn't so far away so I could come back after this trip and get more involved, or even after I graduate from U of M. Her presentation was so informative, I learned things I'd never even heard before, specifically about border patrol and the wall. Then after lunch we went to see Operation Streamline at its awful-est. Such an eye opener and very heart wrenching to see so many people crammed into this cold court house in shackles being hauled away en masse back to Mexico permanently. Unless they decide to try and cross again, and in which, if they get caught, the penalty will be that much more severe. Its so much more complicated and busy and that, I wish I could explain it more but I'm only just learning. Then! We talked with Federal Public Defender Laura who was great, she really talked to us more about the Operation and the people and what she faces every day in her job. There's been other, smaller, fun things today, like a trip down town with friends walking around, and to the farmers market, I ate cactus for the first time! Its like green bean mixed with lime. Not great...but not horrible. So glad I'm here, I can't wait to learn more. Chelsey Wertz
May 6th: Visit to Derecho Humanos/Personal Policy Thoughts We just finished visiting the Coalición de Derechos Humanos. During our visit, many people were faced with new facts and information regarding the immigration justice system; however, I began to reflect on my previous knowledge regarding the situation. I have experience rallying in favor of immigration reform and in support of the undocumented migrants in Chicago. When I was first exposed to this issue, I began to overly feel for these individuals- becoming a "hippie," "heart bleeder," and "an activist." Basically, I became a humanist. However, I learned the hard way that humanistic views are not the way of the world, and realism began to take root within me. Now, I believe that I am a realist humanist. So, the stories shared with our group are reminiscence to why I was solely a humanist. We learned about a few stories of border patrol officers shooting, raping, and torturing. Not trying to generalize my entire group's interpretation but these story instances tend to sway people to have a desire to tear down the system. Although, these instances are horrible, in my opinion, the system is necessary. We currently learned about the US immigration quota policy, which limits that number of immigrants accepted into the country every year- based on certain skills and circumstances. I feel quotas are necessary. Realistically, the United States has limited resources (in many industries). Plus, all countries shall the right to control some of its yearly population growth. Now, anti-immigration activists make an overall valid point, immigrates = money. However, immigration is costly on both side of the coin. Yes, migrants cost our systems billions of dollars because they use our services: medical care, education, welfare, etc... Yet, they also pay billions of dollars in taxes (every tax imaginable, except income). The only tax I shall not figure into the pro immigration side is social security. Even though many migrants use falsified SS# (and pay for social security they will never retrieve), we should not estimate that into the argument because we do not know if the majority have this luxury to have such falsified information. Yet, that just a side argument I wanted to address. But, what most people do not factor into the equation is the expense to criminalize immigrates. The US government allocated the Department of Homeland Security somewhere to $13.5 billion. About $3.5 billion of that money goes to immigration agents... Sadly, that is only the minimum expense to enforce complex immigration policy. We learned that Arizona alone spends additional billions of dollars on their no tolerance program, Operation Streamline. They have to pay contract attorneys, who used the system to make easy money merely showing up (because the majority of their clients plea guilty). Also, the state pay judges and the court operation fees, only to prosecute 70 randomly selected migrants a day. Due to all these expenses and no decrease in the number of undocumented migrating- you may ask, “Doesn’t this affirm that immigrates are bad and should be eliminated?” In my opinion no! The majority of migrants work jobs in industries that the majority of US citizens are phasing out as options. Although, there are many Americans who will work any job to survive and provide for their family, it is simply not enough to argue the US has a self-sustaining labor and service work pool in every industry. I personally have worked in a factor for a summer (and I would never want to have that experience again). Plus, these migrants work cheaply. Cheap labor is the factor that allows capitalism to flourish. So I advocate that the US implement humane enforcement policies. Any US officer abusing migrants should be penalized for documented and proven abuses. And yes, migrant abuse is very real- beyond torture, rape, and shootings. And most abuse cases go unpunished. The migrants who are criminalized are sent to contracted prisons, where they can be denied life essentials: water and food. Also, they sometime are denied proper medical attention (after being tortured, raped, or shot). Thus, all imprisoned persons should be given proper life essentials. Our government should have an oversight department enforcing our government-contracted prisons to comply with humane treatment policies. Although these enforcement practices add to our expense, it is the price we all should pay for our exploitation. Analyzing one factor that has led to the increased migration of these undocumented is free trade (which was a general topic we attempted to discuss today). From an economist viewpoint, the US should promote free trade. Free trade (in the long run) makes everyone better off. Free trade (in some instances) requires labor and capital to be mobile; thus, people need to migrate to supply the new labor demands. Yet, politics and policies prevent true free trade, creating a winner and loser system. And US policy makers usually down play the negative impacts associated with being the loser, because the US, typically, is the winner. Thus, we are stuck with an inherent inhumane system. So I feel proper humane enforcement expenses should be associated with our ability to being the winner. “Immigrates” are real people and deserve to be treated as such, even though they are deemed “criminals” within our unequal system! Marcus Smith May 5th: The Rally and SB1070 Today we had the great pleasure of meeting with the people at the Border Action Network, just down the street from Borderlinks. They taught us about the new law that was just signed by the governor of Arizona about 9 days ago. For all of you who do not know what this law will do I will give a brief over view. It is called the SB1070 and the basic premise is that it gives any law enforcement official (not just border patrol and ICE) the authority to arrest any undocumented person with reasonable suspicion. As you can tell many issues arise with a proposition like this such as what does an undocumented person look like, or what is reasonable cause? After meeting with this outstanding group of people we headed on over to a rally against SB1070 at the University of Arizona. We made our own signs and not only got to participate in the protest but listen to some very interesting view points on the issue. After we attended the U of A's student government forum on the issue and got to hear the opinions of college students just like us and also share some our own opinions. I have never been a person that was interested in politics of any kind but I was intrigued by the moral and ethical background of this issue and also the passion that it is pursued by. It was brought to my attention for the first time today that we are all in some way immigrants to this country unless we are 100% native American, which is something I had never considered before. I had the extreme desire to help promote legalized immigration even though I live 36 hours away from the border. I thought today was a great start to an already amazing journey.
MaevaMarie Cooper
May 5th: Cinco de Mayo 11:22am We just met with the Border Action Network to talk about SB 1070 and border issues here in Tucson. While there, I was reading the Arizona Star, which had an article about the fact that the Mexican Foreign Ministry has issued a warning about Mexicans traveling to the United States. They stated that it was too dangerous for Mexicans to be in the United States right now in this climate of harassment. So now, we can't go there, and they are told not to come here. Sherrie 7:00 am The plane riders has a safe and wonderful trip to Tucson! Jessie, Emily, Faith, Yusra, Ladan, Sherrie, Libby and I landed in Tucson around 1pm. The view as we were landing was beautiful! Our hosts at Borderlinks greeted us with lunch and then gave us directions to the downtown area where we spent much of the afternoon taking pictures and visiting local shops. So far, I love this city, and I'm so excited to be here. We got our intinerary last night, and I am equally excited about the work we will be doing, and the people we will meet. We're going to an SB 1070 rally on the University of Arizona's campus this afternoon. I think we're all very excited for this opportunity. : ) - Kirstan Walker
May 4th: Touch Down in BorderLinks The two vans (Eugene and Pearl) both arrived safe and sound in Arizona. None of the drivers previously imaged what the town would look like, but we were pleasantly surprised! At BorderLinks, the entire group was reunited- including our new addition: Ladaun. We met the 4 main staff leaders and settled into our dorm living area. Luckily, one leader is from Nogales and is teaching many of us Spanish. The first night we outlined ground rules: respect, cellphone limitations, and safety. We received our jammed pack schedules, which include many 10-12 hour work days. Tomorrow we are excited to attend a protest at University of Arizona regarding the new Immigration Bill (SB 1046). Tonight, we ate at a delicious Guatemalan restaurant that has historic connections with BorderLinks. Lastly, we all decided to explore the town by jogging or walking around the area. Luckily, we get to enjoy Cinco de Mayo by the border! Entry by: Marcus Smith 11:30pm May 2-3: Van Trip The two vans (named Eugene and Pearl) have travelled from Ann Arbor, MI to Albuquerque, NM (close to 1560 miles). Traveling in the vans are Chelsey, Collette, Ersida, MaevaMarie, Marcus, Nate, Nicole, and Sara. This road adventure has been a rewarding and joyous trip. Not only are we driving across the country, we have visited many roadside attractions: World Biggest Chair, Western Hemisphere's Largest Cross, and the Cadillac Ranch (here we addressed racial intolerance). This has been a great bonding experience. We have spent multiple hours driving, talking, and listening to each others' diverse music selection! We are excited to hit home in Tucson, AZ! Entry by: Marcus Smith 11:00pm | CategoriesRecent PostsBlog Archive |
