- Amy Cox -

Day 1: The Day We Probably Should Have Been Stopped By Border Patrol

Day 7: Sanctuary at St Francis in the Foothills UMC

October 26, 2014

Amy Cox

Arizona Day 6: Water is Life

October 26, 2014

Amy Cox

““If you had told me back in 2000 when I started taking water into the desert that I would still be doing these trips in 2014, I’d have called you crazy....I thought we would fix the problem by now.” ”

— -Karl, Humane Borders Volunteer

It was a hot one today, or as Arizonans like to call it "warm", as our new friends Scott and Karl took us on a water run with Humane Borders, one of Tucson's humanitarian groups working to prevent undocumented border crosser deaths. We serviced a couple of water stations to the south of Tucson, mostly driving two lane paved highways until we reached the dirt roads that led directly to the water. We checked the barrels for water levels and vandalism, as Karl pointed out the trails and washes that migrants and border patrol often use.

The most common water station consists of a plastic barrel with a spigot and a flag marking its location that is visible from the surrounding area. Their locations are determined from the Red Dotted Map that marks where all UBC deaths are found. Some water stations are on ranching land, an access point through a trough or spigot. Humane Borders only puts water stations in places where they have written and legal permission from either the land owners or the county. The resources that go into recovering remains has led to some cooperation between ranchers, humanitarian groups, and local government.

After learning yesterday the harsh reality of so many deaths in the desert, it felt all the more important to stand under the unrelenting sun, with the flies buzzing around, and imagine myself in another's shoes. Of course it is a mild, G-rated comparison at best; this is hardly the hottest time of year, I do not have to spend the day and night walking, nor do I have to avoid border patrol.

These water stations are crucial for many people who walk their way across the border. Migrants only have the water they can carry, either in their hands or in a backpack and that is if it isn't gone by the time they make it to the border. Often the "coyotes" or human traffickers will demand that those traveling with them only carry a single gallon jug claiming they know where to refill. Some coyotes know where to find water and some do not. It is a game of gamble and trust. Coyotes also claim it will be a day's walk from the border to Tucson, whatever they can do or say to take advantage of the migrant's lack of knowledge and receive payment. Those who cannot keep up are left behind and death by desert is not pleasant.

There is still so much I don't know or understand. There are laws and trade agreements and other such legal jargon that our government has put into place that has helped create a need for the migrants to seek employment to support their families. There is also a great need for migrants to work in the U.S., to take the labor jobs that American citizens wouldn't dream of doing for wages that are far below what one would find acceptable. And yet the U.S. government has beefed up border security and made the path for these workers much more dangerous, with the consequences far greater.... I just don't get it.

What I do know, is that I am thankful for groups like Humane Borders. Who see beyond the politics to the human beings who deserve life. There is a face and a name and a family to that set of bones laying in the medical examiner's office. We may not be able to easily solve the greater issues of a broken immigration system. But this. This we can do. A simple drink of water. Life.

Read More in the Arizona Series

Day 1: The Day We Probably Should Have Been Stopped By Border Patrol

Day 7: Sanctuary at St Francis in the Foothills UMC

October 25, 2014

Amy Cox

Arizona Day 5: The Reality of the Desert

October 25, 2014

Amy Cox

"You look a little shell shocked," The Chief Medical Examiner said to us as we thanked him for his time and headed back into the Arizona heat. It was an understatement. My heart officially broke today. We have spent the past few days hearing the stories of the living, those who make life in Arizona work, even in the face of racial profiling, discrimination, and for some, the threat of deportation. But today we learned the stories of the dead. The dry bones that litter the desert. The untold stories of those who hoped and fought for a better life....and met their end. Alone. Under the hot sun. I. can't. even....

And for many, their bodies remain unclaimed and unidentified. For the Office of the Medical Examiner, it is a detective puzzle to piece together enough clues about an Undocumented Border Crosser (UBC) death in hopes of identifying the individual. How much of the body recovered, what level of decomposition has happened, and what possessions or property can be found all play into the ability to trace a person's identity. Often only a few bones are found, scattered by animals, and identification found on a person more often than not will be a false ID.

The numbers are disheartening. In the 1990's, the average UBC deaths per year were in the 20's. Starting in 2001, the number jumped to 75, in 2002- 77, and since it is an average of 176 deaths per year. With border crossings in major urban areas made harder to access by the wall and heavier patrols, the desert seems a likely path for migrants. But with not enough water, or the ability to keep up with the "coyotes" or human traffickers, people can be left behind.... there is a map where each red dot represents a death from 1999-2013, a total of 2,471.... the state of Arizona is covered...and those are only the bodies that have been found.

And this. The locker that holds all the possessions found on the unidentified bodies for 2014. They are the last remnants of the individuals who filled their pockets or hidden seams in their clothing with money, a phone number, false IDs, and little mementos from home.

Some people are identified either through missing persons reports, or fingerprint hits with immigration (if they were already in the system), and yet the process of DNA testing, missing persons databases, etc. between countries and here in the U.S. remains complicated.

When we made it back "home" tonight, we settled in to watch "Who Is Dayani Cristal?", a film exploring the possible journey of one man found in the desert with the tattoo Dayani Cristal on his chest. It was a profound and moving piece that speaks to the danger of the journey, and the poverty and dreams that propel people to seek work in the U.S.

We go into the desert tomorrow with Humane Borders to refill water stations. Water can mean life or death to a migrant walking... I am compelled to see more, to not shy away from the brokenness, to stand on the side of love. Lord, may our eyes be continually opened to the ways in which you would compel us to move.

Read More in the Arizona Series

Day 1: The Day We Probably Should Have Been Stopped By Border Patrol

Day 7: Sanctuary at St Francis in the Foothills UMC

October 24, 2014

Amy Cox

Arizona Day 4: Nogales, a Border Town

October 24, 2014

Amy Cox

As our time together came to a close, I posed the question, "When I travel and tell the stories of what I have experienced here, what do you hope that I share?" She thought for a long moment, "That even though we live on this side of the border, we are not free."

M* was our lovely guide around Nogales, AZ for the morning. We met her and her daughter at the McDonalds on the edge of town, and piled everyone in my car to have a tour around town. We drove around the border crossings, to see the wall our government has built to beef up border security. We even saw the humorous section of wall that was washed out after a heavy rainstorm....wonder how much this section of the wall cost to originally build and now replace??

The Border Patrol obviously has a very strong presence in the border town of Nogales. We were very aware that our movements were watched by the 20-30 vehicles we saw roaming the streets. We stopped to take pictures at the section of wall where two years ago, a Mexican youth was shot and killed on the Mexico side by US border agents....

the accounts I've read give little cause for his death other than he may or may not have been throwing rocks at the Border Patrol. These articles here and here share more of that story. As I was snapping some photos, a Border Patrol car came to speak with us, to "make sure we were not meeting someone at that section of wall". As I cannot disguise myself as hispanic, we had no trouble explaining we were visiting and wanted some pictures. I posed with his car.....

I've heard many stories about Nogales pre "border wall", as Nogales exists on both sides of the border, one part in the U.S. and one part in Mexico. The two towns beautifully depended on each other for economy, workers, and family/friend relations. There were spots in the fences where it was easy to cross through, and no one thought twice about taking the easy routes to get to the other part of town. It was not a matter of illegal entry, but in living out life in a community that spread across two countries. For locals, you may have had your wedding ceremony on the U.S. side and your reception on the Mexico side..... this community has been deeply hurt by the border wall being built these last few years, and with expanded Border Patrol, new officers are working there who are no longer members of the community, who do not know the people they are protecting. As a hispanic living in the area, you have to be able to prove your identity at all times, in all places..... I wonder at the mess and pain we have caused in search of "secure borders"....

Like at the San Diego/Tijuana border, there is a section of wall where family and friends are allowed to meet....under the surveillance of cameras and a few border patrol vehicles parked to the side. Although the Nogales space is open everyday whereas in Tijuana it is only a few hours every weekend.

I am thankful for the guidance of local friends during our morning adventure. They pointed out the streets that would make us look suspicious to even drive down due to heavy drug activity, the neighborhoods that are frequently searched for tunnel entrances that go under the wall, where vehicles sit that are commonly used by drug traffickers. At a stoplight, they shared how immigrants used to come up through the grates in the intersection....which has led to more welded grates and smaller sewer entrances....

We finished our time in Nogales with a local Mexican lunch before heading north. We breezed through our second checkpoint that stops all cars heading towards Tucson from Nogales and spent some time window shopping in Tubac. Life feels intense here in Arizona; the heat, the desert, the border....it is good to be bothered by its intensity.

Read More in the Arizona Series

Day 1: The Day We Probably Should Have Been Stopped By Border Patrol

Day 7: Sanctuary at St Francis in the Foothills UMC

October 23, 2014

Amy Cox

Arizona Day 3: The Day of No Pictures

October 23, 2014

Amy Cox

"You can only tell your story.....what you have seen and witnessed." Those words were both encouragement and mentoring from our new friend Dottie as we unpacked the day with bowls of mint chocolate chip ice cream and the television on low in the background. I had been lamenting my lack of statistics and knowledge, how each experience adds more questions and wrestling. It was a good and full day....of which I have no pictures to document. :) Soul Cafe

We joined the pastors of Dottie's district for their monthly lunch and gathering. There we talked with the pastor of St Francis in the Foothills UMC where we will be visiting on Friday...and met Maritza who will be showing us around Nogales on Thursday. Darci and I also worked up a bilingual version of 10,000 Reasons which we shared with the group.... Dars has a beautiful voice...I'm glad we found a way to put it to use! We had to run pretty fast out of there to make it to the courthouse...

Operation Streamline

We made it to the courthouse downtown just after the afternoon proceedings had begun. We slid into a row with people who are on a delegation with Borderlinks. We meant to make it early enough to meet them....but alas, our timing was a bit off. So we sat in the midst of people who have similar heartbeats...watching.

Operation Streamline is currently how undocumented immigrants found along the border after crossing are processed, sentenced, and sent on to prison. There were somewhere between 60-70 men and 3 women, shackled at the waist, wrist, and ankles, no belts and no shoelaces, in the same clothes they had been picked up in....some since October 10 or 11th. There is a rhythm to the questions and answers, broken by the constant sound of clinking chains...

In groups of five, the individuals were led to the front of the courtroom to stand with their attorneys....whom they had met with for less than 30 minutes that very morning. It is widely known knowledge that the attorneys advise their "clients" to plead guilty and not fight the charges....and no one did that we saw. One woman, after sentencing asked about seeking asylum. The judge told her that after she served her two months in jail, then she could speak to immigration about the matter of asylum......

In less than 2 hours, the left side of the courtroom and the jury box, which began filled with defendants, completely emptied as everyone was sentenced ranging from 30-180 days. All carried a weariness about them, the humiliation and dehumanization cloaked in the name of justice and efficiency by the court. Somewhere around the 40's, I began to feel a heaviness in my chest; the weight of these unknown stories...their journeys, their hopes and fears. I prayed that God would protect these men and women, some who looked too, too young.

Pablo

This evening, Darci and I met up with Pablo Peregrina, a local musician who writes music inspired by the "Border Movement". He is an activist and humanitarian, who was born in Mexico and moved right across the border into Nogales to attend school and eventually work. He told countless stories of people crossing the desert, of the prejudice he has experienced, about how necessary it is for him to write, sing, record, and share. He teared up when he talked about first learning more than a decade ago that women and children were crossing the desert, some not making it. We plan on listening to his music on the way to his hometown tomorrow, to let his words slip into our bones, to prepare our hearts to see the wall here in Arizona, to keep our eyes open to where God is moving around us.

I'll try to find some links for Operation Streamline....we read articles in the washington post and other sources that have seen similar experiences to ours. More to come....

Read More in the Arizona Series

Day 1: The Day We Probably Should Have Been Stopped By Border Patrol

Day 7: Sanctuary at St Francis in the Foothills UMC

October 22, 2014

Amy Cox

Arizona Day 2: Settling In and Making Plans

October 22, 2014

Amy Cox

We made it to Tucson a couple of hours after our time spent in Gila, AZ on Monday night, checked in to a cozy Comfort Inn, and asked for recommendations to a great Mexican place at the front desk. I'm not sure what I ordered, but my plate was full of rice, tortillas with beef and cheese and guac.....perfection. Tuesday, we had a lazy morning at the hotel checking out just before our noon cut off. I spent some time in the small sliver of an exercise room, even trying out that machine that Chuck Norris makes look so easy on those informercials.....

We spent the afternoon at the Arizona History Museum, reading up on the Tucson area through the years of mining, saloons, Indian wars, and the introduction of the railroad.

We are now settled in with our new friend, Dottie, who is the UMC District Superintendent in these parts. A few phone calls and a yummy Italian dinner later and more of the week is shaping up. We have plans to witness Operation Streamline on Wednesday, drive down to Nogales on Thursday, visit the Medical Examiner's Office and St Francis in the Foothills UMC (part of the Sanctuary movement) on Friday, and take a trip out to the desert water stations on Saturday. I hope to blog each day we are here, today was a day to catch our breath.....bring on tomorrow.

I find that life these days is like the museum docent who promised not to watch as we sat on top of the plastic horse and took pictures....a bit odd, but fun nonetheless...I hope it is the same for you my friends!

Read More in the Arizona Series

Day 1: The Day We Probably Should Have Been Stopped By Border Patrol

Day 7: Sanctuary at St Francis in the Foothills UMC

October 21, 2014

Amy Cox

Arizona Day 1: The Day We Probably Should Have Been Stopped By Border Patrol

October 21, 2014

Amy Cox

Roadsideamerica.com for the win! After a quick visit with my Great Uncle Arnie in Alpine, CA, Darci and I hit the road for Arizona. On the way to Tucson, we stopped in Gila, AZ to check out several roadside attractions that have made it on my favorite website. First up: a welcome sign:

And if it wasn't clear that there are five "old crabs" in town....they listed them below:

When we pulled into a side lot to park for some pictures, we noticed a large number of police and border patrol marked vehicles, some with lights and sounds blaring, pass us to enter the neighborhood behind the lot. We took pictures of the sign and a nearby cactus before deciding to wander down the street and see what was going on.

Two blocks down, a half dozen vehicles were parked outside a house with both officers and residents?? standing outside. Since the neighborhood ended right after that street, we turned, went down a block and found an alley to pull into for a moment to watch the commotion. The end of the alley was quickly blocked by two sheriff cars and we saw other law enforcement vehicles patrolling the area. Darci welcomed me to my first raid, as I snapped a quick photo that shows nothing:

And as one sheriff car rolled down the alley towards us, we made the wise decision to move on. We encountered a Border Patrol SUV as we pulled out on another street and I found it amusing to watch as the officer looked at my Virginia license plate and assessed us as they passed.

We drove down the road to see the Space Age Lodge with sparkly walls and on to the Dino and Snake statues adorning the front yard of a gas station.

Right outside of town are two fighter jets guarding what looks like an old, abandoned airport. But since a city official truck AND a sheriff car showed up in the time we were there....maybe it's not so abandoned. We took the hint that we were now attracting attention in this town of under 2,000 and headed on down the road.

Upon later reflection, it is hard to believe that we were not stopped or at the very least questioned. Maybe being a white girl holding a ukulele in a Rav4 is helpful for these days? We'll see what day two holds....

And as a side note: driving through Arizona at sunset is absolutely gorgeous!

Read More in the Arizona Series

Day 1: The Day We Probably Should Have Been Stopped By Border Patrol

Day 7: Sanctuary at St Francis in the Foothills UMC

October 20, 2014

Amy Cox

Communion At The Border

October 20, 2014

Amy Cox

I wanted to see the border wall end in the ocean. It's how Darci and I ended up at Border Field State Park today, as we spent an extra day in San Diego to do laundry, rest a bit, and spend some time with my dear friends the Tewells who have graciously hosted us these past few days.

We didn't even know Border Field State Park existed until after lunch. We spent the morning shopping at outlets that were a mere parking lot away from the first border fence. It was when we were waiting for drinks in a long line at starbucks that I map quested a nearby beach I hoped would get us close. On the map the park came up. Following the link led me find that we could indeed walk up to the most Southwestern point in the United States.....and so we took off with frappucinos in hand.

Border Field State Park is only open to cars on the weekend for a $5 fee per vehicle. As we paid at the gate, the attendant told us that if we wanted to see the Monument Mesa (the actual stone marking the border), Friendship Park was only open until 2pm, but that the other part of the park was open for the day. It was 1:45. With no idea where Friendship Park actually was, we drove the couple of miles down a paved road and up a hill to park on a bluff overlooking the border fences and the pacific ocean.

As we got out of the car, we could see an opening in the first fence and people moving beyond. We realized Friendship Park existed between the fences and we had only a few minutes to get close to the border wall. As we jogged over, a border patrol officer stopped us to tell us we were not to "go through the fence in any way; either over, under, or around." We smiled, replied, "yes, sir" and entered the restricted area.

There were a dozen people within the gap between fences. A few children ran around as a man spoke into a microphone; first in English, followed by Spanish. Most of what he said wasn't registering with me as I took in the sights and sounds of a place I didn't know existed. On the other side of the thick, tightly wound fence, a couple of dozen Mexicans stood and listened. Most of what the man said wasn't registering with me as I took in the sights and sounds of place I didn't know existed. Dars and I were a bit in awe that instead of the usual hundreds of yards, we were only inches from Mexican soil. We were as close to the border as one can physically get on the United States side. I snapped a couple of photos even as I heard the familiar words, "This table is an open table. Christ invites all....." I froze, then quickly turned to Darci and said, "Dars.....we get to take communion at the wall. RIGHT NOW." Her reply was just as quick, "I KNOW!"

I cannot sum up the emotions held in that moment. The trust I have that God is leading and yet all the doubts I still carry. How confusing and heavy all these conversations of immigration and cultural divisions are....and how easy, yet hard it is to explain that almost three months ago, God told me to go to the border between San Diego and Tijuana. And what felt like an "accidental" stumbling into the border was a divine appointment to stand at the fence, with all my questions, doubts, and hopeful prayers.....and be offered the grace that Christ extends to us through Communion.

The worship team was on the Mexican side of the border. With a ukulele, guitar, and vocalist, they led us in Spanish with How Great is Our God and Trading My Sorrows...As we had only caught the end of the service, we stood at the fence, placed our hands on its metal bars, and prayed; for our countries, our families, and for those who are separated by this wall. There wasn't much space to see through the fence, but I noted that three generations of men stood on just the other side of the fence from me. I wonder at their stories, what brings them to the border fence, what keeps them hoping for change.

We spent a few moments after the service speaking with John Fanestil, a United Methodist Pastor, the "man with the microphone". The group, El Faro: The Border Church, works to keep Friendship Park open, as a way to allow families separated by the border to see one another, to stand face to face with only a fence between them.

After everyone had left, Darci and I spent some time walking along the coast...mainly in silence, enjoying the beauty of the ocean and the feel of the cool waves washing over our feet. Even after we made it back to our host home, it was a couple of hours before we mentioned what had happened at the Border. A holy moment in the midst of security and metal bars and empty land.

I will taste and see....the Lord is good.

Read More in the Arizona Series

Day 1: The Day We Probably Should Have Been Stopped By Border Patrol