We’re in Nogales, Mexico, a large border city south of Tucson, Arizona. Jon crossed onto our side of the border last night with a new bike. The band is back together again, and the recent Kia Sorento unpleasantness has been resolved.
We took a day off to get a feel for the city and learn more about the border from real experts. Our Couchsurfing host, Andrea, invited us to stay at her family home and offered to give us the tour. As it turns out, Andrea does this as a part-time job—escorting Americans around Nogales to break down myths about the supposedly wild, lawless south. She’s a guide with the Border Community Alliance, dedicated to educating people on both sides.
A lot of her visitors are snowbirds, elderly Americans who are looking to retire in Mexico. She says “Many of them have never crossed the border in their lives. When they see we aren’t all drug dealers and carrying guns, it’s shocking. When they see how developed Nogales is, it’s shocking.” Her goal is to show them everything that Nogales has to offer.
She took us to the port of entry, which was humming with the energy of traffic, people on the move, buying and selling. Just outside the turnstiles, there are stalls offering jewelry, tortillas, honey—and New England Patriots-branded shawls. One owner was selling hand-carved mortar and pestle sets that have a special significance to families in Nogales. They’re made from iron wood, and are specifically used to mash “chiltepin” chiles, which I’m told are worth their weight in gold. Families pass the sets down from generation to generation.
Everyone is selling something. Street hawkers demand to know “Hey! What do you want?” People cross the border every day to get a better deal. There are dozens of pharmacies, barber shops, and garages in Nogales offering skilled work for a cheaper price. Many companies in the United States don’t offer their employees dental coverage, for example, so people come to Mexico. “Medical tourism,” as its called, is one of many lucrative industries along the border. In economic terms, I’ve come to think of the wall as a sunken ship: a hulking piece of rust that supports a lively ocean reef.
The wall in this section is perhaps 20 feet tall and is made up of thick bars that allow you to see the other side. Over time it’s come to represent a lot of heartache. There is extensive artwork on the Mexican side. The illustration that sticks out most clearly, though, is of a young boy. In 2012, Jose Antonio Elena was playing basketball with his friends. The sun was going down and Jose told his friends he was headed home. Walking down the street by himself, Jose made a game out of throwing rocks and pebbles over the fence. A U.S. border patrol agent shot him eleven times for this. In the ensuing investigation, the agent claimed that he had felt threatened and, conveniently, the cameras aimed at that area didn’t record the event. The place where it happened is just an unassuming street corner, but people now come there to pray.
After parting ways with Andrea we went to meet Samuel Lozano De Los Santos, the director of Initiativa Kino, a charity run by the Jesuits that gives assistance to migrants and the deported. We had an hour to kill before the program director was supposed to show up, so we just lazed around a random gazeebo at an apartment complex high above Nogales. I spotted smoke in the distance. Don’t worry, everyone said, it’s probably just someone burning trash. We chatted with the dope-smoking kid who told us about his run-ins with the mafia. More smoke. Dogs and rabbits are now fleeing the scene. Ah, we realize, that’s a raging wildfire that’s moving quickly uphill. This didn’t seem to bother anyone. (It’s really not worth mentioning, I should get back on topic.)
The Jesuits started their mission in 2007 after they discovered that migrants had certain basic needs that weren’t being met. They needed food. People that had served time in prison needed a way to cash their checks. They needed help understanding and completing paperwork. They needed shelter. The Jesuit mission has continued to expand, so that now they serve up to 200 people a day.
We talked with sister Engracia Robles Robles. She said that she understands there needs to be a certain amount of control on the border, but that since the Trump presidency the situations she sees every day have become more extreme. People that have lived illegally in the United States for decades are being sent back to countries they’ve never lived in, ripping apart whole families. It’s a traumatizing experience that drives many people insane. She says people fall trying to get over the wall, fracturing spines, breaking bones, and crushing teeth. She told us that last hurdle is nothing compared to the dangers of the desert, and the debts that these people owe to their mafia smugglers. One man she recently met was arrested while his wife was pregnant with their seventh child. He was put in prison and eventually deported for not having any identification, and was not allowed to say goodbye to his kids. His wife died in childbirth.
We visited the soup kitchen and talked to a group of men standing outside waiting for dinner. Three of them had been deported that day. They had jackets tied around their waists, and had on multiple layers of pants and shirts—probably all of the clothes they now own. A woman standing behind a telephone booth bore horrible scars on her face. Another young man was missing his arm. Sister Engracia told us extreme stories of the cruelty that takes place along the border, but it’s clear those situations are commonplace.
