Day 8: Kino Bay

Day 8, by Sarita Krugman

On our 8th day, we drove down to Kino. The car ride was long and stuffy in the vans but it was worth driving, to have a relaxing time off from everything and just lay around. We didn’t do much besides do laundry, eat, relax and go to the beach. It was great waking up late and soaking up the sun. The sun was amazing. The warmth ran through our blood. The whole class seemed calmer with hot showers and clean clothes. Later in the afternoon we went out to dinner and ate good food.


Careless time passes by
Without a doubt I wish for the best
Hopeless hopes wonders while I dream for the best
Struggles seem to harsh to our American lives
But look at our people, the less they have the more they are willing to share with others even strangers
We choose
We make decisions
We regret
We forget that we have a lie worth living for

From what I’ve seen in Mexico, I’ve realized that many of us in America don’t see how we are privileged to live the life we live now. We get distracted and become selfish. Hopefully things will change while time passes by.



Blog day 8, Harrison Chase

After such a relaxing day, we decided to meet as a group to go over what we were doing the next day, but just as we started the meeting there was a loud crash. Immediately Andy and others ran outside to see what had happened. What happened was that a car with three adults and a child were pulling out of a corner store parking lot and they were struck by another car speeding by. People watching said that after the driver hit the car he threw a 40 out the window to avoid being found with alcohol and then he crashed into a pole. When I approached the crash to see what was happening there was a large group of people surrounding someone lying on the ground and a woman covering her face and crying. I instantly got a sick feeling in my stomach, the type of feeling when I know something wrong has happened. More and more people from our group were coming to see what had happened but I figured it would be a good idea to get everyone back to Prescott College so that Andy, who was helping the person laying on the ground, wouldn’t get overwhelmed with everyone surrounding him. After we walked back people who had gotten closer to the crash told us that the person on the ground was a little girl. Andy told us later that she had been thrown out the window when the car was hit and landed on the pavement. Andy also had said that she was unconscious when he got there but started to regain consciousness by the time he left and the EMTs took over. It was a pretty startling experience and it was one of those experiences where you really took into account how fast and drastically things can change especially when you drink and drive. It was a terrible experience but at the same time was a good pre'cursor to going to Carbo and reminded us that if anyone was drinking in Carbo that it would be a horrible idea to get in a car with them.

Reflections on the Car Accident, by Andy Winter

Caramela

We were just getting our evening meeting started when I heard and felt a huge crash. My first thought was that the second floor of one of the nearby buildings collapsed. I ran outside and heard screaming from the road and new it must be a car accident. I went into Emergency Medicine mode and sprinted to the van, got my first aid kit, and hollered to a couple of students to get my big flashlight from our meeting place.

The smells of antifreeze on a hot engine block and burning rubber filled the air as I approached.

I surveyed the scene. There were many people there already and a woman with blood running down her face screaming “my baby …my child” in Spanish. There was a totaled car and another one maybe 75 yards away that had crashed into a building or something. I saw several people gathered around someone on the ground.

I pushed my way into the small crowd and found a little girl not much older than Emmy. She was unconscious. I could see she was breathing and I checked her pulse as I asked if there were other people hurt. Her sister and mother were in the car as well but seemed to be okay said someone nearby. Someone else shouted that the driver of the car was okay.

ABCDE
How many times had we gone over this with my classes last year?
Airway, Breathing, Circulation, Disability, Environment

“What is her name?” I asked and the answer came back a moment later … “Caramela”. In an instant I could see “caramel” was the perfect name for this sweet little girl laying so peacefully in the gravel parking lot.

ABCDE
Her pulse was strong and fast. Her breathing was strong as well. Her pupils were equal and slowly responded to light.

“Caramela” I whispered into her ear, “you will be OK, just breathe, open your eyes when you are ready” as I checked for broken bones and other injuries. The whole time just hoping she would regain consciousness … hoping her spine had not broken … hoping her head injury was not too severe. Why is it taking the ambulance so long, I wondered.

My head to toe revealed no other obvious major injuries and I whispered, “your mommy and sister are here for you. We are all here for you Caramela”. Her breathing and heart rate began to change so I pulled my stethoscope from my small crowded first aid kit to listen to her lungs half afraid of what I might hear. Is there internal bleeding I wondered?

Slowly I placed the stethoscope to her chest, wishing with all my heart, “please be OK”. As the cool metal of my stethoscope touched her chest she woke with a loud cry “Mommy”.

She began to thrash about and we struggled to keep her still and to keep her mother from picking her up. She screamed until the voice of her mother penetrated her fear. A few minutes later the ambulance arrived and the local EMTs took over.

That night as Emmy and I lay down to sleep under the starry Kino sky she asked me to retell the story again. I was in tears by the time I finished and there was a few seconds of silence, then she propped herself up on one elbow looked me straight in my teary eyes and said “I guess she was lucky because it could have been much worse, couldn’t it?”

*** Post script: We found out several days later that she was released from the hospital with no major injuries.

Day 7: Kino Bay

Driving to Kino, by Sara Lepkoff

It was Friday, and we all knew what that meant. Beach day!
We were headed to Kino Bay from the town of Altar. It was a six hour drive.
In the morning, we tried as quickly as we could, to literally, stuff 19 tired and stressed people into two vans. It had been a long week, and we were all full of intense experiences, which we hadn’t had time to process. Once we were on the road, with our headphones on, the A/C blasting, and road snacks littered on the bottom of the vans, we all sighed a collective sigh of relief. This was the first time we had to ourselves.

After a few hours watching a combination of scenic desert landscapes, looming mountains, and truck spots whiz past my window, I started to notice more palm trees, and soon I saw a glimpse of the shimmering blue of the Gulf of Mexico. I laughed, pointing and smiling. We were in Kino!
We got out of the vans, quickly running towards the beach. We kicked off our shoes, the sand massaging our feet and the cool beach air brushing our faces.
I closed my eyes, happy to be in such a beautiful and relaxing place, but also remembering how many people still continue their struggle for a better life.

Day 6: Altar

Altar, by Sara Lepkoff

We arrived in the town of Altar as the sun’s midday heat beat down hard on us. The past few day’s weather had been cool and I had wished for warmer weather. Now, it was easy to imagine the sun as the enemy, an entity that shows no mercy for those who cross the desert.

We met Padre Priciriano, father of the domed church in the plaza of Altar. He also was the leader of CCAMYM, the most clean migrant shelter that provides food, beds, showers, clothing and many other services. He didn’t look much like a priest in cowboy boots, and hat but his face showed a wide smile that immediately made me feel at ease.

After a lunch of tacos at one of the many local taquerias, he led us into the town’s plaza. He explained to us that Altar has become the first spot for many hopeful people hoping to cross the United States/Mexican boarder. The income for this once small town relies heavily on the presence of the immigrants.
As he led us on a tour of the town, this fact became very clear. Every single market, and pharmacy, of which there were many, stocked items needed for those who attempt to cross the border.

Images of a “lay up” area, which we had seen earlier on our visit to a desert ranch, came to mind. I remembered plastic bottles once filled with water cracked and broken, ripped back packs, electrolyte drinks, baby food, torn and worn out shoes, suddenly showed themselves in their original form. I recognized the exact labels that littered the desert floor. The realization these shiny new bottles would too find their way into the desert on the back of a desperate child, mother, father, or grandmother, under the same unforgiving sun that I stood under now, made me stand still. Just for a few seconds. Then, the padre called for us to “Hurry up!” and I ran to catch up.

Casa de Huespedes "Guest House", by Andy Winter

(In Altar, we visited "guest houses" where migrants stay prior to leaving on their journey to walk 3-5 days in the desert to enter the US illegally. Andy wrote this entry after meeting a young girl at one of these houses.)

Sitting on the third tier of the dingy bunks, she had a Chicago Bulls cap on and her hair pulled back to look more like a boy. She watched us with great curiosity and the intention to stay invisible. Her bright eyes gave her away. After talking to her parents for a little while I asked her age “14” she said humbly in Spanish.
She made the trip to Altar and was ready to cross the desert in a day or two. I could feel her excitement and trepidation about what awaited her. Later that night I imagined the conversation that took place about whether to bring her on such a dangerous journey. The ultimate decision being similar to that of most of the people who cross: “there is nothing left for me here, and up there my family and I at least have a chance”.
Several times over the next couple of days I wondered how she was fairing in the desert. Was it more difficult than she had imagined? Was she suffering?
Several times after that I wondered what Emmy’s primary concerns will be during her 14th year on this planet. Will she be risking everything (even her life) for an opportunity she can only imagine, or will she have a much more mundane focus – friends, dating, clothes, sports, or how ridiculous her parents are.
I hope she does not have to make a journey such as this. I hope she does not feel the need to risk everything for what seems like her only chance to live a decent life. But whatever she is doing I hope her eyes are as bright as this girls’. I hope she is as poised and strong and that her determination and desire to learn is as self-evident as this girl on the third tier of the bunk bed.

The Padre and the Blessing of the Migrants, by Abby Brusco

On Thursday, January 29th we arrived in Altar, Mexico. We met with el Padre Priciriano, our contact person and priest for the local Roman Catholic Church. After a full day, we had dinner and then a small group of people went to el Padre’s service. I was one of them.

El Padre talked in Spanish so I didn’t really understand exactly what he was saying but I know that he was offering a blessing to the migrants. The migrants were asked to come up and go forward toward the Padre and he blessed them and gave them items for traveling in the desert. Even though it was a short service, the Padre’s message felt very powerful. I felt sad to see the migrants getting ready to go into the desert. I had already experienced how hot the desert was and knew how dangerous their journey would be. I knew that they would be crossing the border and that it would be very hard for them to survive.

Day 5: Maquiladora, Gloria, homestays

Chamberlain Factory and Gloria, by Sarah Schreiber

On 5th day we all went to the Chamberlain maquiladora. This maquiladora is one of the nicest in Mexico. We were greeted at the lobby of the building and were given safety glasses and ear protection right away. Soon enough we were on our tour of the huge Chamberlain building, walking past hundreds of busy workers doing repetitive jobs to assemble garage door openers. Above our heads looked something like a small roller-coaster that traveled throughout the building delivering parts to different places. Most of us have never seen anything like this before and it was amazing to hear that these hard working people barely even make $10 a day.
After we were done with our tour of the Chamberlain building we were off to Gloria’s house in Nogales. We pulled up to the side of her house in our vans and everyone got out with a groan from being cramped in the van. We walked into her small and simple home and sat down whereever we could find a place. Some were still standing but Gloria and her husband insisted on having a chair for everyone before she started talking. Once we were all seated she began to talk and welcome us to her home and presented us with a feast for lunch which she woke up at 5 in the morning to make. Everyone ate as much as they could and even then there was still food left over. Once everyone was done eating she proceeded to tell us about her life, religious beliefs and life stories that made some people want to cry and broke out into powerful songs once or twice. She also showed us her trinkets that she has spread around the house that people have given her throughout the years of her life and told us the stories behind them. Eventually she taught us all how to make paper flowers. Some succeeded and made beautiful flowers, and some, maybe not so much, but everyone still had so much fun regardless. She was truly a beautiful persona and everyone enjoyed being with her that day.

Flower making, by Zoe Reichsman

Wyatt and I teamed up to make our paper flower. We both apparently have coordination problems or we just don’t know what flowers normally look like, because ours turned out not exactly looking like a flower at all. Paper kept falling out of our flower from various places. We convinced Emmy that ours was a “cool flower” because it was so unique.

As soon as Gloria saw the cool flower she shook her head and someone translated, “she doesn’t like it.” Gloria proceeded to delicately tear our flower apart before me and Wyatt’s eyes. Horrified, we exchanged glances and laughed. She ended up doing an entire (extremely beautiful and perfect) flower for us, which was exceedingly nice of her since we would probably be embarrassed to walk around with our ugly one.

Day 4: Nogales, Sonora

Nogales, by Harrison Chase

Our first full day in Nogales was a busy one. We started the day with breakfast in the “casa”, a community center where we’d be spending the next day or two. The casa was a homey place where kids from the colonia would gather to play soccer and fool around on the amazing playground that the casa provided. After breakfast we headed into the heart of Nogales. Before having lunch with Teresa we needed to get our permits to be in Mexico. This meant going to a heavily guarded office where we filled out applications and watched as armed police lead a group of deported children out of the building. Ater getting our permits done we then had to walk to lunch. At this point we had driven through Nogales to get to the casa but had not yet walked through Nogales. The difference between walking and driving is huge. Being able to walk to lunch gave us a chance to experience things out of the comfort zone of the vans. There were no metal doors separating us, and the busy streets, we were fully immersed in one of our first Mexican experiences on the trip. Being our first day in Mexico this also meant the meal with Teresa would be our first authentic Mexican meal. As we scanned the menus there were constant questions to Memo to explain what tacos dorados were or the difference between burritos and quesadillas. As lunch was served we listened to Teresa explain what it meant to be native to Mexico and how her people have been oppressed. She also talked about the crippling affect that the maquiladoras had on the environment and how people work all day for 5 or 6 dollars. After lunch we went with Teresa to the wall at the border to hang white crosses with the names of the people that have died in the desert. It was interesting the way this changed how locals looked at us. We were now no longer gringos to the people sitting at the bus stop and I now sensed that they respected us a little more. The first day we spent in Mexico brought us a new perspective of life on the Mexican side and even showed us those Mexicans that some of the gringos cared for what was going on in the deadly Sonoran desert.

Talking with migrants, by Kyle Takei

Today was supposed to be a learning experience, and in a way, it was. However, I never expected to be touched like I was by the stories that the migrants told me in el Comedor, the place where recently deported migrants go to get a meal, oftentimes the first meal they’ve had in days. I only talked to two migrants, because I don’t think I could handle anymore stories from the migrants.

I remember clearly the second story that I was told. The migrant I was talking to wouldn’t give me any personal information, except that he was from Puebla, far in the south. From what I understood, he has been to the United States at least 5 times, but more likely he had crossed at least 7 times. He told me that on the Mexican side of the border, the police had extorted him by threatening to place evidence of drugs on him or even kill him unless he gave them his phone and what little money he had. On the U.S. side of the border, he had been verbally and physically abused by the Border patrol, specifically by one Chicano officer on the I-8, who denied him food or medical attention, among other violations. He fears being arrested by Chicanos in general, the naturalized children of Mexican immigrants, because they are all extremely abusive of immigrants, even though their white companions generally treat immigrants well. I asked him why he kept crossing, even though he knew how deadly the desert can be and that it was extremely likely that he would get captured, abused and deported again. He just looked at me for a second, and started to speak with such determination, that it seemed like he would cross hell itself if it lead to the United States.

He told me “I have a father back home who needs a special medicine to save his life. My kids and wife are starving, and uneducated. In the United States, you have cheaper medicine, and even though I am going to be doing the exact same jobs as I would be doing here in Nogales, they pay much more up north. It’s easier to study, to get an education, so that even if I don’t get any better place in life, my kids will. I hate crossing the desert, but to survive, sometimes you have to do crazy things. The way I see it, I have two options: I can cross and get a better life, or I can stay here and slowly die.”

The last thing he told me was that he had gotten back to Nogales a few hours before, after being caught wandering in the desert, and that he was going to cross again if not tonight, then tomorrow. Then he got up, walked to the gate, and out into the street. I wonder if he has made it, or if he’s just another statistic for the people that have died in the desert.

Desconocido, by Andy Winter

In Nogales, Sonora we made crosses to hang on the border wall to honor the lives of people who have died in the desert. Since October, 187 bodies have been found in the Arizona desert. We printed up a list of names and causes of death and wrote these names on crosses. The majority of these bodies are unidentified, so for them we wrote "desconocido".

I wonder who this person was whose body was recovered in the desert last year. How old were they? What family did they have? Who were they traveling with? What was the decision like to leave them behind? How long did they suffer without food or water in the desert? Why were they crossing?

The last question is the only one I have a pretty good guess about. This person was either attempting to reunite with a mother or father who had left them and now lived in the United States or they were looking to improve their own station in life, or most likely it was a father, probably about my age or a little younger who decided, like so many others do, that he would rather risk his life in the desert on his way to find work in the United States than stay home and watch his children grow more hungry and suffer from a lack of education or medical care. What would I do if I were in his shoes? Would I have made the same decision to cross? Would I have fared better than he did or would someone have found my body scorched from the intense heat, with no identification, and given me a number that would remain my number since my family would never know if I made it or not?

This cross I hang for you on this steel wall that separates Nogales, Sonora from Nogales, Arizona.

Day 3: Minuteman Ranch, Sasabe, Nogales

Day 3, Kyle Tansley

On our third day, we met with the Minute Men in Arizona. They led us on a path through the desert, and on the hike we saw a few disturbing things. We passed through a few lay up areas, where migrants discard items they no longer need. The first one was small; no more than 5 backpacks, a few shirts, some pants and shoes, many empty bottles and a few limes. We left soon after arriving, continuing down along the trail, encountering many empty bottles and abandoned backpacks along the way. We even found a few empty Red Bull and Monster cans, showing a few desperate attempts to increase travel speed.

The next ones were rather intimidating compared to this. Countless articles of clothing and backpacks were piled everywhere. There were empty electrolyte bottles and carrots baking in the brutal sun. There were empty bottles and cartons that were faded and forsaken, brittle and easily broken. We even found a half empty bottle of hot sauce in one of the backpacks. Were these people crazy? They hiked miles through the desert, only to discard clothing and food, mere miles from the highway.

But we heard the reason for all of this; the migrants often bring two sets of clothing: one for traveling in, and one for looking fly in. The lay up areas are where they discard their dirty clothes and objects, and change into their clean clothes, so they don’t look like they’ve just walked through a desert. It’s just another way for the migrants to fit in when they arrive.

But as helpful as it is to the migrants, it’s hard for the ranch owners to deal with. There is so much trash left behind, it’s a disgrace to the land, and a danger to the animals that feed there. They have about 400 cattle on their land, and if any of them tried to eat a backpack or a shoe, they would probably die. This is one of the reasons that so many ranchers are against illegal immigration.

On the “lay-up” area by Sarita Krugman

When we met with the minutemen, we went on a small hike to the field. We saw some things we normally wouldn’t. It was incredible with the amount of junk we saw on our hike. There were clothes lying everywhere. Backpacks, hygiene products, limes, and food/cans/bottles. With the amount of trash there I would have thought that someone would have at least cleaned that stuff up but no one does. This was a ranch with many cows. It’s dangerous to leave all that stuff lying around because the cows could eat it and die from it because they can’t digest it. I would think that the people would clean it up for the cows but instead they’re worried about getting some kind of disease.

Walking with the Minutemen, by Lucas Langione

“Everything in the desert will hurt you” said Gerry our faithful minuteman guide. “Oh and don’t touch their trash. They are bringing in new diseases”.

The desert sun was high in the sky by this time of day, all 17 of us walking through the cacti-filled land. Our guides cover out rear and scout ahead for illegal immigrants, as if they were playing some child’s game of war.

It can be hard to see two sides of an argument when you are on the outside looking in. When you are placed into the real life story your views can be more clear. Sometimes taking our guides seriously was a challenge. But doing my best to open up I listened with open ears. I found that unlike what I thought, their arguments did make some sense. After asking some questions and hearing some answers I could actually see where they were coming from. Although the organization is of kind of extreme, I started to understand. Their ideas had reason and some logic leading me to see how easy it could be to believe the way they do.

At the “lay up area” the number of persons the trash represents was unbelievable. Seeing the clothes and the backpacks all torn and beaten was a look into the travel of these people. Overall I would have to say that I took away a lot of information from the experience and a different view of the border problems.

Trip through Arizona

From Elissa, we have heard all good news. The students have all enjoyed the saguaro cactus and outdoors in Arizona, as evidenced by the pictures in the slideshow on this blog.
More feedback to come from the trip members soon!
Bruce

Day 2, Catalina State Park

Hike to Romero Pools, by Wyatt Pedigo

Today we embarked on a 5 mile hike up into the breathtaking wilderness of the Santa Catalina Mountains. The hike started out in the early morning while the sun was still low as were the temperatures. But as we gained elevation the landscape changed dramatically and so did the temperature. The land slowly got steeper until we were hiking along ravines; it went from desert shrubs to cacti clinging to the side of mountains. As the day progressed the sun got higher in the air and the temperatures rose. Despite the heat, the mood among the group was still cheery and people were laughing and joking the whole way. Finally we reached half way we stopped to talk, we noticed that we were running short on time and needed to meet John Fife later that afternoon. The goal of the hike was to reach the springs high up in the mountains. This is where the group decided to split up, some members of the group started a leisurely hike back to the cars, and the rest of the group went onto the springs. After about another 30 minutes of hiking the group reached the springs were we enjoyed a nice quick lunch then started our descent back to the cars were we met up with the rest of the group.

John Fife, by Mario Tofiño

He did not look like a priest; he was more a cowboy than a reverend. Denim clothes and cowboy boots. He started talking about the Mexican-American War, called the Yankee invasion in Mexico. He told us the reasons because of which Mexico declared war to the U.S.

He went through the historical patterns in this area and the several changes in the enforcement of the border that have happened since the 1800’s, like the Border Patrol, a few more changes in the way people looked at the issue, the Bracero Program and different way that this issue has been dealt with.

He also told us his story and how he had helped the Central-American immigrants in the 80’s and how he created several social and humanitarian movements, he went to jail because he gave shelter to refugees that were fleeing Central-America and fought the government.

He was an engaging speaker, you could feel how powerful this issue is to him, and that made his words powerful to us, I couldn’t stop listening to his words, I couldn’t let them go, it was amazing how fast this man made me devour his words and wait for them. Time flew past us, and then he left. Even then I still felt the courage and decisiveness of this man, he did what he thought the best and went with that until the end, wherever it took him. He stayed loyal to his principles and didn’t betray them.

Day 1, Catalina State Park

Waking up in the desert, by Zoe Reichsman

I woke up this morning all alone in the tent, dazily wondering whether some House Of Wax tent abduction took place last night. Realizing my tent-mates were probably in the showers, I stumbled out of the tent, my blurry vision focused on the bathroom door. After the short walk to the bathroom, I began opening the door, realized it was labeled “Men” and opened the door opposite it to find my tent-mates.

I walked back to the tents to wake Sara Solanas up for a shower. Casually walking over to her tent, I glanced up and stopped. I looked around myself to see the rough rock mountains, cacti, brush and misshapen trees dimly lit by the morning light. It was absolutely gorgeous, and absolutely alien to me.

After breakfast, a short meeting, and a million pictures of our majestic surroundings, we all took off on a short walk through the Sonoran desert. Arizona feels like a different country for me, a different planet almost.

Last night, on the drive to the campsite from the airport, Arizona looked completely flat. The GPS showed one straight line for a large majority of the hour drive. Now, on the walk, the scenery is anything but flat. Jagged rocky cliffs loom in the seemingly not-that-far distance. The terrain dips and curves, covered in many different kinds of cacti (almost to the extent that Vermont is covered in trees), scraggly bushes, rocks, sand, and small streams very occasionally.

When I studied the desert for my biome in geology class back at Compass, the picture on my poster included a single cactus surrounded by sand for miles. The actual desert is much more diverse and intricate than I’d always pictured. It’s always been hard for me to imagine walking through the desert for three days in the dark trying to cross the border, but now it’s clearer to me how difficult that walk must be. Almost every single plant in the Sonoran desert is sharp. Dodging thorns in the dark, desperately searching for water in a parched desert is a situation I hope to never experience.