The Park, Sonoran Hotdogs, and South Tucson

Using trash cans as goals, the sidelines as our field, and teams of 4 vs. 3, I played soccer for a long time tonight. The two guys in my program, as well as three of their host brothers, and one of their dads played with me. There was a mixture of Spanish and English flying around, as we ran back and forth trying to score by hitting the trash can. It felt so good to be out playing soccer again. Thanks South Tucson for the great parks.

My first night here, I eat a Sonoran hotdog. It is a hotdog traditional to this area of the U.S. and Mexico. They give you a hotdog wrapped in bacon, and covered with a mountain of toppings and green salsa. Thanks South Tucson, for having a hotdog stand 3 blocks from my house. (They also serve quesadillas, Carmelos, burros, and other fast but delicious Mexican foods).

I bike to the University and classes easily in 15min from my house, feel surrounded and embraced by a new community (South Tucson is made up of: 81.2% Latino, 9.1% Native American, 9% White, 2.3% Black, 2000 U.S Census Data), and feel welcomed and included by my host family and their lovely home. Their house was built 10 years ago by Habitat by Humanity, and they keep it well maintained, and beautifully decorated with art and bright colors. Thank you South Tucson for the wonderful home.

Desert Hike

I try to hike on paths. Whether in the middle of a wilderness area or a city park, I do my best not to leave a mark. Friday and Saturday were no different as I hiked in the desert. The paths felt different though, knowing that they were not purposefully cleared for nature-loving white folks (like me) who come from families with long traditions of camping and environmentalism. Instead, they were paths created by migrants crossing through, enduring hardships that I can only begin to imagine. Still, in those nine hours of hiking in the sun, I felt closer to their experience. Looking out on the bold shades of orange, yellow, and brown of the desert that stretched out before me, I saw the desert for it’s profound beauty. As we walked, tripping over rocks, and brushing up against spines of cactus and other brush, my skin tore under the tug of the plants. Sounds of coyotes, the rush of the wind, and the quick-moving jack rabbits and deer startled me each time they passed. My own experience of the desert—the colors and views so new to me, the plants unlike any I have known, and the animals I had only seen in photographs, made me think of wilderness as I have always known it—A place to escape from people and the demands of busy lives, a place to preserve, and a place to be restored and refreshed.

The serene peace of the desert still existed during my hikes, but so did a nagging discomfort. A discomfort at the sight of thousands of personal items left behind by migrants.... of backpacks (we found a birth certificate in one that we will take to the Mexican Embassy), of clothing, deodorant, children’s bags, and women’s bras, of toothbrushes and deodorant, of medicine, and of bottles--empty water bottles, empty food cans, and Red Bull. "Coyotes" have taken to giving Red Bull to migrants lagging behind—unknowingly making them more dehydrated and exhausted when the effects wear off. Knowing the suffering of these migrants, traveling for days without good shoes, hiking with little food, and little water (it is impossible for them to carry as much water as they should for a hike through the desert for 1-5days), I felt an overwhelming sense of anger at the situation on our border. The Border Patrols new goal is one piece of the problem (“stemming from the 1994 strategy of establishing a ‘prevention through Deterrence’ posture. The continued expansion of this Strategy is supposed to deter smuggling and illegal entries by reducing smugglers’ ability to use existing infrastructure to facilitate their operations.”) Basically that means that migrants have to go through more and more extreme terrain to cross and evade the border fence, infrared searching towers, and other detection technology. This plan literally functions to deter migrants by causing more deaths. We need a new strategy.

Still, hiking through the desert, putting out food and water (risking arrest, because some of the land is on the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge and putting out water and food cans is considered littering), I felt like I was contributing in a small way, understanding just a little bit more the journey of the migrants, and what can be done to satisfy the demands of environmentalists worried about destruction of the desert, ranchers whose land and livestock is being affected, those who think immigration is ruining our economy, and those who believe in no border at all. I know we can do better than the current state. I will use these hikes as a way to think about all of these ideas, search from within my own experience, and learn from the migrants I meet in the desert for new ways and new strategies.

The hikes were a wonderful introduction to a beautiful landscape and an equally harsh introduction to the reality migrants face as they make their journey North. I still find it hard to imagine what it will be like to meet a migrant out in the desert—to hear their story, give what little medical aid we can, provide food and water, and directions North if they want to continue, through references to mountains and landmarks around them. It is a moment I don’t have the capacity to envision, it seems so foreign and so wrong-- it makes me shiver.

Link to new Border Patrol policy:

http://74.125.155.132/search?q=cache:tfG841mrqxEJ:www.cbp.gov/linkhandler/cgov/border_security/border_patrol/border_patrol_ohs/national_bp_strategy.ctt/national_bp_strategy.pdf+border+patrol+planning+document+1994&cd=1&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us&client=safari)

Two Speeches at Once

I watched the State of the Union Address on TV, and heard it twice. My host mom and I sat down together to watch the speech. It was a Spanish news channel, so as Obama began each sentence I would hear English, followed shortly afterward by the newscaster’s Spanish translation. It was a bit chaotic in my mind, naturally hearing the English, as well as trying to listen to the Spanish.

That hour of listening to both languages, and feeling uncertain that I had heard anything clearly, isn’t completely untrue of my normal daily experience. My host mom is bilingual, but speaks in Spanish in the house. Her three daughters are bilingual as well, but speak in English when I am around. I reply in the language I am spoken too, often finding myself listening to and speaking the two languages practically at once. The dynamic changes when visitors come to the house. They have a cousin, who spends half his time here, and half his time in Mexico, but speaks Spanish. They have two cousins who are bilingual but prefer Spanish. There is their nephew who is a tile artist and works with youth on the Yaqui Reservation, who is also bilingual. Yesterday he brought over some books of local photographers, knowing I like photography. He switched between English and Spanish as he spoke both to me and my host mom.

So as I sat there yesterday, listening to the two speeches at once, I thought I might better understand life here on the border. Like the words in the speech, the border as I have experienced it so far is a mixture of worlds overlapping. Tomorrow I will do my first desert hike with No More Deaths, and perhaps another overlapping world will be added to that mixture---one of hot desert sun, migrant trails, rattlesnakes, border patrol, and the water stands we will be refilling.

The Drug War and the Tohono O’odahm Nation

I am only beginning to learn about all the different communities here on the border that are affected by the new border wall, militarization of the border, and the changes in migrant’s crossing patterns in the last 15 years. One group that is greatly affected is the Tohono O’odahm Nation. Here is an interesting article in the New York Times, followed by a rebuttal from a Tohono O’odahm Nation member.

New York Times Article: “In Drug War, Tribe Feels Invaded by Both Sides”: by Eric Eckholm

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/25/us/25border.html?pagewanted=1&hp

From Brenda Norrell’s blog: “Shame on the New York Times for Fueling Border Misery” by Brenda Norrell

http://bsnorrell.blogspot.com/2010/01/shame-on-new-york-times-for-fueling.html

Crossing into Nogales, Mexico

I watched the movie, Sin Nombre, alone one afternoon a few weeks ago. Finding the violence to be more extreme than I expected, and the fighting too real to watch, I fast forwarded through a number of parts in the movie. Having felt the terror of the migrants whose stories were told through the movie, I hoped that the movie was an extreme example of what a journey North might look like. I was wrong. On Friday, when we traveled south to Nogales, Mexico I had the chance to talk with a group of about 40 men who had just been deported. Some were deported after 20 years of living in the states (one man has a family in St. Paul and worked at Salut Bar), others were deported after their first border crossing, barely making it into the Arizona desert before being sent back. Some came from Florida, others from California. The border patrol has taken to deporting people as far from where they crossed into the US as possible in hopes of separating them from family that might be waiting right across the border on the Mexican side. The cruelty we (the US government) use is astonishing, and after looking at the faces and hearing the stories of these men, I have already been changed. I don’t think I will be able to turn back from fighting in some way for the justice of these migrants and refugees.

One of the men I met had come from Guatemala. Two young boys, 14 years old, had come alone from Honduras, traveling 14 days on foot and by train. The man coming from Guatemala described his travel, and I brought up the movie Sin Nombre. He had seen it, and went on to describe all the similarities between his own travel and the plot of the film. For each devastating moment in the movie, this man had a comparison to make to his own journey north. Like Smiley and Paulina, the main characters in Sin Nombre, this man had traveled atop trains for hundreds of miles. He had seen a man fall from the train, killed instantly caught under the fast moving cars. He had suffered with little food and water, and discussed the harsh realities of meeting gangs and racism along the way. After his story, I’m afraid Sin Nombre can’t be brushed off as overly dramatic or unlikely—he was a testament to its truth. Unfortunately the violence here can’t be avoided simply by pressing fast forward, and I know what I see and hear on the border will be much more real than the movie was as I sat alone watching it in my basement. I only hope I can learn and be open to these stories in a way that leads me to some kind of useful action for migrants and refugees from wherever they may come. Classes start tomorrow---knowledge and history of border issues will be a good place to start.

Arriving in Tucson

Hola todos,

I have begun my journey south. Last night I arrived in Tucson Arizona. This is the beginning of many journeys south. During the semester I will travel South across the Arizona/Mexico Border often, and for several weeks south to the Guatemala/Mexico Border.

From today, January 21st until, May 5th, I will be participating in a Border Studies program through Earlham College. Even though I will spend much of my time in Arizona where I can be in touch fairly easily, I imagine the experience will be much like living in a different world (at least for me who has never lived in the desert or witnessed life on the border). With this is mind, I thought I would create a blog as a way to share some of my experiences. If you would like to follow these stories, you can enter your e-mail address on the right side of the blog to get updates via e-mail to let you know when I post an entry.

As I find true when I live any new place far from Minnesota, it is always a treat to hear from friends and family at home, or wherever you may be. I hope you too will share stories and keep me updated on your lives!

My address is:
Anna Engstrom (I'm going by Anna here)
Earlham College Border Studies Program
738 N. 5th Ave., Suite 205
Tucson, AZ 85705

Take care,
Berit