{"id":988,"date":"2013-02-15T14:03:20","date_gmt":"2013-02-15T21:03:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/?p=988"},"modified":"2013-02-15T14:47:28","modified_gmt":"2013-02-15T21:47:28","slug":"magical-realism","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/?p=988","title":{"rendered":"Magical Realism"},"content":{"rendered":"<style type=\"text\/css\"><!--\n@page { margin: 0.79in }\n\t\tP { margin-bottom: 0.08in }\n--><\/style>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">It&#8217;s Tuesday morning, my day with the Samaritans at <i>el comedor.<\/i> I look out the window and there are a couple of inches of snow on the ground. Big fluffy flakes are falling, and the desert is transformed into a surreal fairyland of silver and icy blue in the early morning hours. The day is fraught with the usual mayhem, as I rush around looking for my passport, scraping snow off the windshield, and rummaging through drawers searching for gloves and a warm hat. It is so quiet outside. Even the birds are silent with their feathers all puffed out to twice the size. They look like fluffy marshmallows sitting in the branches of the palo verde tree. Facing east on this crystal morning, they wait for the sun.<\/span><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_989\" style=\"width: 510px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/snowfall-at-the-ranch.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-989\" class=\"size-full wp-image-989\" alt=\"snowfall at the ranch\" src=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/snowfall-at-the-ranch.jpeg\" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" srcset=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/snowfall-at-the-ranch.jpeg 500w, http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/snowfall-at-the-ranch-300x225.jpeg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 500px) 100vw, 500px\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-989\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">snowfall at the ranch<\/p><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\"><!--\n@page { margin: 0.79in }\n\t\tP { margin-bottom: 0.08in }\n--><\/style>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">Driving out the gate of our ranch I spy two coyotes just meandering through the desert mesquite. They appear healthy and fat, their furry coats thick with a reddish cast. These wild creatures stop, give me eye contact, and just stand there twenty feet away. I roll down the window and we spend a moment gazing at one another until they silently stroll off into an arroyo and disappear. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">I think about what draws me to living in the Sonoran desert. There is a mystical feeling to life here. Today I am seeing the world as if in a dream. The mundane and commonplace seem awesome and inexplicable. There is no logical or psychological explanation for this awareness, but my connection to the coyotes and to the beauty of the snow-covered desert this morning feels as tangible as the frozen ground beneath my feet. Reality has taken on a supernatural keenness. There is an element of surprise in the air.<\/span><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_991\" style=\"width: 385px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/hot-breakfast-on-a-cold-morning1.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-991\" class=\"size-full wp-image-991\" alt=\"Hot breakfast on a cold morning\" src=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/hot-breakfast-on-a-cold-morning1.jpeg\" width=\"375\" height=\"500\" srcset=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/hot-breakfast-on-a-cold-morning1.jpeg 375w, http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/hot-breakfast-on-a-cold-morning1-225x300.jpeg 225w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 375px) 100vw, 375px\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-991\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Hot breakfast on a cold morning<\/p><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<style type=\"text\/css\"><!--\n@page { margin: 0.79in }\n\t\tP { margin-bottom: 0.08in }\n--><\/style>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">Walking to the <em>comedor<\/em> today with my Samaritan colleagues is a cautious, circuitous trek through ice and mud. Construction workers are bundled up continuing their work on the expanded port of entry and the ongoing building of the wall. The digging and building and disruption is endless. Carefully making our way through the maze of temporary pedestrian paths, we hang on to each other and the barricades that are sporadically placed along the way. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">When we reach the <em>comedor<\/em>, there are space heaters cranking out as much heat as they can muster, and a group of migrants are huddling inside the shelter looking cold, wet, and hungry. Many have blankets draped around them. Sister Lorena plays a short video film projected on the wall&#8211;a snow scene with Bambi and some deer frolicking in the snow. Everyone laughs at the incongruous scene of snow and deer, and it feels good to be in this room of people making the best of an uncomfortable situation. The mood is upbeat as we pass out the plates of beans, eggs, and a chicken pasta dish. <\/span><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_992\" style=\"width: 510px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/clean-up-after-breakfast.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-992\" class=\"size-full wp-image-992\" alt=\"Clean up after breakfast\" src=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/clean-up-after-breakfast.jpeg\" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" srcset=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/clean-up-after-breakfast.jpeg 500w, http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/clean-up-after-breakfast-300x225.jpeg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 500px) 100vw, 500px\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-992\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Clean up after breakfast<\/p><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\"><!--\n@page { margin: 0.79in }\n\t\tP { margin-bottom: 0.08in }\n--><\/style>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">Then Sister Lorena turns on the CD player and \u201cOde to Joy,\u201d the last movement of Beethoven&#8217;s Ninth Symphony, fills the room. To my surprise, most of the migrants hum along with the melody. The whole room seems elevated as we work alongside the migrants cleaning up the breakfast dishes. The comforting smell of coffee permeates the damp cold. The migrants leave the shelter wearing the gloves, socks and jackets that we have brought this week. The sun is beginning to peek through the grey of this frigid morning. There is magic in the air. My ordinary life today seems extraordinary.<\/span><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_994\" style=\"width: 385px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Mexican-not-Hispanic.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-994\" class=\"size-full wp-image-994\" alt=\"Mexican, Not Hispanic!\" src=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Mexican-not-Hispanic.jpeg\" width=\"375\" height=\"500\" srcset=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Mexican-not-Hispanic.jpeg 375w, http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Mexican-not-Hispanic-225x300.jpeg 225w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 375px) 100vw, 375px\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-994\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Mexican!\u00a0 Not Hispanic!<\/p><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\"><!--\n@page { margin: 0.79in }\n\t\tP { margin-bottom: 0.08in }\n--><\/style>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">I think about a man I met a few weeks ago. His story was one that transcended the normal boundaries of reality. I first noticed his t-shirt which boldly stated \u201cMexican! Not Hispanic.\u201d In tiny letters the t-shirt read: \u201cHispanics are the people of Spain\u2014European.\u201d My migrant friend was eager to discuss the politics of Spain and Mexico and how he views these differences. He was affable and wanted to talk about his near death crisis in the desert.<br \/>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">His name was Alan, and he told me he was \u201cpure Mexican\u201d from Veracruz. I asked him how he came to be at the <i>comedor<\/i>, and his story exceeded the boundaries of my normal, everyday world. He took my Samaritan colleague, Ricardo, and me aside to a quiet corner and with great emotion began to tell us about his experience while lost in the desert. He was abandoned by his <i>coyote<\/i> guide after four days because he could not keep up with the group. One member of the party had died a few days before, and he tremulously spoke of passing by the body laying on the ground. The weather was freezing at night, and Alan had run out of water and food. Things were not looking good as he stumbled alone through the desert looking for help. <\/span><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_995\" style=\"width: 375px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Alan-of-Veracruz.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-995\" class=\"size-full wp-image-995\" alt=\"Alan, the man from Veracruz\" src=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Alan-of-Veracruz.jpeg\" width=\"365\" height=\"500\" srcset=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Alan-of-Veracruz.jpeg 365w, http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Alan-of-Veracruz-219x300.jpeg 219w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 365px) 100vw, 365px\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-995\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Alan, the man from Veracruz<\/p><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\"><!--\n@page { margin: 0.79in }\n\t\tP { margin-bottom: 0.08in }\n--><\/style>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">Alan was no longer able to walk and fell to the ground. He woke up in the early morning and saw the migrant who had died \u201crunning in shorts and a t-shirt\u201d beside him along the migrant trail. There was a dusting of snow on the ground. He saw the dead migrant&#8217;s footprints. The spirit migrant told Alan to \u201cgo home to your family.\u201d Alan did not heed these words, and continued on. Soon \u201can angel appeared to me and told me to turn back and return to my home in Veracruz where my family awaits.\u201d When he looked ahead, he saw a road and <i>\u201cla migra,\u201d<\/i> the Border Patrol. The angel stood beside him and the Border Patrol did not see him. He was invisible to the agents and was protected by this guardian angel. Alan ignored the angel&#8217;s commands to return home, and continued on the migrant trail alone.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\"> After several hours he spotted the <i>coyote<\/i> guide that had abandoned him, standing beside a waiting van. The angel appeared at this moment with his arms folded, disappointed that Alan was not paying attention to his directives. The angel told him, \u201cYour service is now to God and your family. Go home!\u201d Again, Alan ignored the angel&#8217;s command and joined the<em> coyote<\/em> and migrant group, getting in the van.\u00a0 Alan tells me this with certainty and punctuates each word with his fist.\u00a0 I got the feeling that Alan knew this was a wild tale and difficult for us to believe, but he was absolutely grounded in the reality of his experience.\u00a0 He described his ordeal in detail.\u00a0 This was his truth, and the truth penetrates to the heart.<br \/>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_996\" style=\"width: 510px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/looking-for-jeans.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-996\" class=\"size-full wp-image-996\" alt=\"Looking for jeans\" src=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/looking-for-jeans.jpeg\" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" srcset=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/looking-for-jeans.jpeg 500w, http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/looking-for-jeans-300x225.jpeg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 500px) 100vw, 500px\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-996\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Looking for jeans<\/p><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\"><!--\n@page { margin: 0.79in }\n\t\tP { margin-bottom: 0.08in }\n--><\/style>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">Eventually, Alan, the <i>coyote<\/i> guide and the migrant group were picked up by the Border Patrol and taken to a detention center. He was deported to Nogales and sought shelter and counsel at the <i>comedor.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">Posing as the angel, he balanced on one foot to show me how the angel stood on a rock. Then he physically assumed the posture of the running spirit migrant who died. It was a magic tableau which came to life over in the corner of the hectic, busy shelter. The drama of the event was reenacted for Ricardo and me, as Alan showed us how he touched the wings of the celestial being out in the middle of the desert just a few days before.\u00a0 Alan was trying his best to put into words the spiritual essence of his experience.<br \/>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">We helped Alan purchase a bus ticket back to Veracruz.\u00a0 He finally acknowledged that the angel was right.\u00a0 He must go home to his family.\u00a0 Our migrant friend was tearful and emotional when we wished him a safe journey. I took a photo of him in his political t-shirt.<\/span><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_997\" style=\"width: 510px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Ricardo-and-the-street-peddlers.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-997\" class=\"size-full wp-image-997\" alt=\"Ricardo and the street peddlers\" src=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Ricardo-and-the-street-peddlers.jpeg\" width=\"500\" height=\"409\" srcset=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Ricardo-and-the-street-peddlers.jpeg 500w, http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Ricardo-and-the-street-peddlers-300x245.jpeg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 500px) 100vw, 500px\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-997\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Ricardo and the street peddlers<\/p><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\"><!--\n@page { margin: 0.79in }\n\t\tP { margin-bottom: 0.08in }\n--><\/style>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">So I looked at Ricardo, and asked, \u201cWhat do you think happened out there?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">Ricardo, an avowed non-believer in such things as angels and spirits, answered, \u201cWell, he was probably hallucinating from no food or water and the freezing temperatures. I think he almost died. But <span style=\"text-decoration: underline;\">something<\/span> must have happened that helped this man survive certain death.\u201d\u00a0 We were both quietly shaken with Alan&#8217;s story. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">I surveyed the room taking in the 100 or more migrants shivering in the morning air, and thought about all of the stories of survival and miracles that every one of them could tell us. There are 100 books in this room waiting to be written. <\/span><\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_999\" style=\"width: 510px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Kitty-on-a-sack-of-beans.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-999\" class=\"size-full wp-image-999\" alt=\"Kitty on a sack of beans\" src=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Kitty-on-a-sack-of-beans.jpeg\" width=\"500\" height=\"360\" srcset=\"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Kitty-on-a-sack-of-beans.jpeg 500w, http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/02\/Kitty-on-a-sack-of-beans-300x216.jpeg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 500px) 100vw, 500px\" \/><\/a><p id=\"caption-attachment-999\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Kitty on a sack of beans<\/p><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\"><!--\n@page { margin: 0.79in }\n\t\tP { margin-bottom: 0.08in }\n--><\/style>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">I am witness to tragedy and miracles each time I come to the <em>comedor<\/em>. There are so many stories, I don&#8217;t know what to do with them all. I will remember Alan&#8217;s energy and vitality when telling me his tale of survival. His is a world that promises not only joy, but a fair share of misery as well. He has taught me to look at the world with new eyes. It is the world of Mexico and the borderlands.\u00a0 It is magical realism.<br \/>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-size: large;\">And I love being privy to the magic of it all.<\/span><\/p>\n<p>Find out more about the<strong> Green Valley Samaritans<\/strong> on their website:\u00a0 www.gvsamaritans.org<\/p>\n<p>The<strong> Kino Border Initiative<\/strong> is the binational organization which directs the humanitarian activities at the comedor.\u00a0 Their website is:\u00a0 www.kinoborderinitiative.org<\/p>\n<p>The <strong>Santa Cruz Community Foundation<\/strong> supports the cultural, humanitarian and economic programs of the U.S.\/Mexico borderlands.\u00a0 Bob Phillips, the director, can be reached at: (520) 761-4531<\/p>\n<p>I endorse the activities of these organizations.\u00a0 They are all angels.\u00a0\u00a0 Peg can be reached at: Pegbowden@yahoo.com<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>It&#8217;s Tuesday morning, my day with the Samaritans at el comedor. I look out the window and there are a couple of inches of snow on the ground. Big fluffy flakes are falling, and the desert is transformed into a surreal fairyland of silver and icy blue in the early morning hours. The day is [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-988","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/988","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=988"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/988\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1021,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/988\/revisions\/1021"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=988"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=988"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.arroya.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=988"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}