Deck the Halls
Walking to the comedor today, the heavens opened up and poured buckets of rain on our little group. Undaunted, we trudged through mud, rivers of water on the streets, and dodged the huge cranes that continue to build the Wall. I wave at a Wall builder in a yellow slicker, and he waves back. We both look at the sky and laugh at the deluge. We are all ankle deep in water rushing down the roadway. But we keep on going.
Loading up the van, rain or shine
We are fortunate to have a compassionate Samaritan volunteer who assists us each week with transporting bags of clothing and boxes of supplies in his van. He drives the vehicle to the comedor each week, often taking passengers that cannot walk the mile. Our work has expanded exponentially because of his commitment to this work. Plus he is a fountain of information about migrant journeys in the Santa Cruz valley. We are eternally grateful for his ongoing support.
Decking the halls at the comedor
Our Samaritan group has big Holiday plans today. We are all carrying Christmas cookies and cards which we intend to give to the peddlers we meet along the way, the checkpoint windshield washers, the migrants, the priests, the nuns, the volunteers. But this is one serious rain, and we are the only people walking the streets. Arriving at the comedor we are greeted by at least 75 people crowded in the tiny space. Rain pelting loudly on the tin roof makes it impossible to communicate. We hurriedly unload the van with clothing and medical supplies. In a word, we are soaked. Our Christmas gifts will have to wait until next week when the sun shines.
Buckets are strategically placed here and there catching the rain through gaps in the metal roof. And then I spy the simple colorful Christmas lights and decorations strung around the ceiling. The rains are literally washing away the hillside surrounding the shelter, but there is a warmth and cheeriness as we huddle against the storm inside. Even the Virgen de Guadalupe painting on the wall, nestled behind the refrigerator, is strung with Christmas lights while roses, sacks of onions and potatoes sit at her feet. I just stand there and am so glad I am here, shivering, wet, and happy.
In the light of the Virgen de Guadalupe
Father Martin, who directs this whole operation, asks me to take a photo beside the virgin, and I happily oblige. He is amazing in his calmness and focused attention amid the chaos of migrants, helpers, and the clattering of breakfast dishes.
Women of Guerrero
But there is despair among the migrants today. They huddle with make-shift trash bags draped over their heads. This is their rain gear, which is better than nothing. The migrants gaze blankly into space, and I wonder where they will go the rest of the day. One young man is weeping uncontrollably. He is 14 years old and has traveled from Honduras. A Samaritan volunteer speaks softly to him and hugs his shoulder. I sit down and offer him a soggy bag of cookies. Two other men tell me that they will watch out for him. The young man tries to speak, and cannot talk through his emotions. We are all speechless and can do nothing but offer our silent support.
Three women from Guerrero look at us quietly. They have been traveling for a month and are shivering under their colorful ponchos. One woman finds an ankle-length black wool coat, smiles, and gives me a thumbs up. I sit down with them and tell them in my simple halting Spanish that I wish them a safe journey. They all tear up. I open my backpack and dig out more cookies. We sit there, the 4 or us, munching on cookies. The resident orange kitty comes around and licks up the crumbs falling to the floor.
A warm coat on a wet day
I do not want to leave. Once again I feel that there are times when the Samaritans receive much more than they give. Today is one of those times. We witness the human spirit in its struggle to survive with dignity and grace. Being here is a blessing. I will not forget this day.
Singin' in the rain....
And I cannot forget how the United States treats migrants. Our country must radically change our laws and policies toward Latino immigrants. It all comes down to treating our neighbors as we, ourselves, would wish to be treated. It is a simple rule, and we have strayed far from its message.
You really rang my chimes, Peg, with your final comment – “…It all comes down to treating our neighbors as we, ourselves, would wish to be treated. It is a simple rule, and we have strayed far from its message.”
Because, yesterday, I had an errand to run on the “other side.”
As I approached the downtown Nogales, AZ gate leading into Nogales, Mexico, I saw off, to my right, a long line of newly “repatriated” migrants standing in front of a bus that had just coughed them up.
They were standing there, shivering, waiting to be shepherded back to Mexico.
While clad only in short-sleeved t-shirts and dungarees on a morning that was barely above freezing.
That was one of the most disgusting and repulsive scenes I think I’ve ever witnessed here in this nation that so proudly claims to be one that follows “The Golden Rule.”
Forgot to add this exquisite piece of irony:
Which is that those shivering men, women, and children were guarded by warmly clothed, glowering Immigration and Custom Enforcement officers, cradling sub-machine guns.
Otherwise, known as ICE.
Your entries and stories are inspiring tales of hope and courage. My heart goes out to these people who are only trying to get a better life for themselves and their families. Your thoughts and ideas are so similar to mine. You express them so well. I continue to wonder when trying to get a better life has become a crime? When is the US going to wake up and realize how horrible we are treating these people?
From one peacekeeper to another… thank you, Peg. I’m inspired.
My heart hurts for the poor 14 year old who couldn’t stop crying. What atrocities had he seen? Where was his family? I can’t stop thinking about him. I will light a candle with a prayer tonight.
Peg you are doing such good work, it is so sad to read of the plight
of so many, but even the smallest of good is making a difference.
It inspires people on this side to try to help , and your kindness and
compassion will influence . It is good to set an example; even the ICE and
B. P. might try to be kinder , if they see what you do; all we can do is
do the most we can ; I can see why you did not want to leave despite the rain; it is in giving that we recieve.. sincerely , Robin
Peg…. I appreciate your fine writing, and the wonderful photos you post. You shine a very human light on the issue of our treatment of migrants and our southern neighbors. Keep up the good work, and I look forward to reading more from you. Richard