Altar to Sasabe

The luxury was mine. The luxury of a seatbelt, of driver’s who were conscious of our comfort over the bumpy road, of open windows and cool air coming in, of entertainment (we listened to music), of bathroom needs, and of individual space. Still, the ride from Altar, Mexico, to Sasabe, Mexico was a rough one. By the end, I was covered in a layer of dirt, I could feel the sand grinding in my teeth, my neck was sore from the constant bumps and sudden jolts, and I was uneasy knowing that the majority of the people on that road were those tied into the transportation business---the transportation of migrants, and drugs. Still, the way I traveled was a luxury. Most migrants who travel this road, one of the most common entrance points into the US, are crammed into a van with 30 other people, sitting on plywood if they are lucky. They are at the mercy of the person transporting them, and their coyote (guide). The ride is 2 hours long on a dirt road, a private road, supposedly owned by the ranchers whose land surrounds the road, but really controlled by gangs and drug traffickers. The migrants are at the mercy of these groups too, who are all connected to the driver and coyotes, and who sometimes stop them and strip them of everything they have, or beat them if they don’t have anything to give. They are charged $70 for the ride, as a fee to “maintain” the road. Two hours of a long journey of being exploited at every turn, and this is only to get them to the border. The hardest part, crossing the desert has yet to begin for them---so mine is not only the luxury of a comfortable van from Altar to Sasabe, but also to Tucson, to a comfortable home, and welcoming family. What privilege. It took all my reason to keep from helping the 5 Guatemalans who we had talked to and stayed with at a Catholic migrant house (where migrants can eat and sleep free for 3 nights) the night before, get into the van with us. It would have ended in disaster when they were discovered, I know. Still, there is no easy way to leave a place like Altar, when you’ve heard the stories of the people traveling through. There is no easy way to accept luxury, when all those around you are suffering such hardship. Such hardship with the sole hope of working in whatever way necessary to help their families survive.