Final moments from the border

During our last hours in El Paso, we visited the border that so many people struggled to make their way across. It was hard to smile, but definitely an important moment. The juxtaposition of the American flag that normally brings a patriotic swell in my heart with the barbed wire and chains was truly haunting. We hunted for a spot to get to really see the existing wall, and at one point, there were charming houses on the US side, then a highway, train tracks, the Rio Grande, and finally Mexico. 

We continued to hunt to find the part of the wall that we are used to seeing, with slats, and when we eventually found it, we all had an unsettling feeling that we were too close. It was menacing and scary, even to me with all my paperwork, clearly on American soil, very legally in the country. I can't imagine the unease that the undocumented people live with daily, if this border could effect me so hugely. Also - I want to clearly distinguish that the people we worked with are not undocumented, they are part of the "system", many self-surrendering. 

The process, as I understand it, is that people take a bus or flight across Mexico, then either cross at an official border crossing (more rare) or walk through the desert (again, many looking for someone to surrender to). Then they remain in border control detention centers, only because border patrol isn't equipped with an appropriate place to house them until they can go through the official asylum process with ICE (Immigration Control and Enforcement). The people we spoke with called the border patrol holding centers "Ice Boxes" because of the menacing conditions, and almost everyone told us they stayed at 3 different sites until they were delivered to us. That is likely because the border is very big, so it takes a few centers to get them over to where ICE can process them, but we really aren't sure. 

Because ICE cannot continue to house so many people, the families are released, 300-500 a day in the El Paso sector alone. The single men stay in holding until their court case, some for years. The ICE processing is when they get the ankle monitoring bracelets (we think), all of their information is taken down, passports and birth certificates confiscated, their sponsor is called once to confirm they are in fact the person's sponsor (often in the middle of the night and they only have one chance to answer), and the asylum seekers are given an appointment at an ICE center to report to closer to their sponsor's home (most appointments are within a week). 

Then they (300-500 people each day) come to us and stay at an Annunciation House site until their family can buy them a ticket, and we can get them to the airport or bus station. Then when they reach their families, with their ankle bracelet, they report to the ICE center on the assigned day, and may have their ankle monitor removed (though we are not sure). They are put into the court system which usually takes between 1 and 3 years for their case to come to court, where they provide proof of a need for asylum. Unfortunately the rate of successfully proving their life is in danger is small - maybe 10%, but until then, they may be able to find work to send money home before they are deported. Some people arrive at our sites with a deportation warrant already attached to their documentation, but it's unclear when that is implemented. 

This is a dry, fairly pedantic account, but I wanted to record it as it's taken two weeks to figure it out. A bit about my last day has more "feeling" words though:

My last day as shift coordinator (for the 7am-10pm shift) was tough, both emotionally and physically as I am very near "too tired", but I was glad to be able to help train the people who will be replacing me. It was a "final push" of exertion, fueled by the knowledge that the other volunteers were staying on and I was leaving. After receiving 45 more guests, Maco Cathy and I were able to escape for a quick supper together, a community moment, before I went back to work and they went off to pack. 

This morning, we filled in here and there, trying not to get ducked into the problems, happy to train the 3 replacements who came from Vermont, and brought a family with us to the airport for one last transfer. After we went to the border and saw El Paso from a high overlook, Maco took us through the airport that she probably spent more time in than the first hotel. We connected with many volunteers and families we knew who were in the airport, and spotted an additional woman with a baby, clearly a refugee too. She boarded the plane with us and we said goodbye to this exhausting, wonderful, important experience. 

I learned a few things. First - no matter how many urgent tasks there are to be done, none are more important than the people you are doing them for. While I already forget the dozens of phone calls, hundreds of room assignments, and infinite infitessimal tasks, I do remember dropping to my knees to play peek-a-boo with a little kid in the hallway, a silly, unexpected act that made the dozen people waiting in line smile and relax a little, too. Getting to hold a baby while the mama was on the phone with her loved one. Being recognized in the airport as a familiar face. Laughing through a strained conversation about "belts or maybe they meant a diaper, oh wait they just want more toilet paper!" I noticed this in Kenya, and was able to really put it into practice here: not to let the people see me rush and instead smile, play, and comfort. Our actions and manner in carrying out those actions truly say more than our words or intentions possibly can. Our community has a name for this - "visitation moments" as when Mary and Elizabeth met together, sharing the excitement of their pregnancies. (I am nearly certain peek-a-boo was around in 3 BC Isreal.)

Next - my body is 10 years older than it was when I went to Kenya, and realistically, I could not maintain the same energy level as I did ten years ago. I have so much more respect for my "elders" who kept nearly the same schedule and were decades older than me!

Finally - I realized my interactions with some people were different, purely because I am a Sister, a monjita. For some people, that gave comfort. For others, (mostly the volunteers) they cleaned up their language and were shocked if a harsh word or mocking statement escaped my lips. Moreso, I saw how the other sisters had 'nearly' the same schedule, but they took breaks, naps, and ended early or started late. It's not to say they did less, but they definitely went "gentler" than I did. I find I am an "all-in" kind of person, and I think that last year, I was supposed to shed much of that manic commitment and find a better balance, but clearly I need this second year to put that into practice. It's hard!! 

When the need is there, I want to respond, especially because the other volunteers were so much fun to be around, but looking back, a better balance could have been beneficial. I am not sure it would have happened though, because I did spend more time "hanging" and trouble shooting in the office than I did "chilling" with Maco and Cathy in our room. As it was, I slept with the pb&j and medicines so my crazy hours wouldn't disturb them (at my insistence, not theirs). I found friends in the office, and had a lot of fun trouble-shooting with them. Realistically, if they were boring, I probably would have taken more breaks and worked shorter shifts. 

Perhaps this will be a life-long struggle to find balance between my enneagram 3-ness and need for contemplation. (Though come on, how much contemplation can there be when 3 of us shared a room???). 

I leave El Paso with many new friends, a better understanding the motivations of people, a bit more Spanish, and areas for personal growth. I am touched by the number of you who reached out and prayed with us, journeyed with us through these blogs, and sent messages of your presence. Hopefully we can all continue to make this world a bit better, one interaction & "visitation" at a time. 

Operation: ready, go

Moving into the operations side of refugee hotel hospitality has been energizing, and yet exhausting in a way that my brain is tired, but my body less so. Since coming to the hotel, my shift has been at least 16 hours long each day, and I find it invigorating in a way that I want to be the first one in and the last to leave, walking 3 doors down to my room at night and crashing into bed - a room that doubles as the medical unit and contains the PB&J sandwiches, so my nose is filled with peanut butter and each breath with the air shared by all the sick people in the hotel. And the funny part is that both of those things just make me smile, as I am surrounded by two aspects of hospitality we can offer to a very tired, hungry, and ill people.

There has been a necessity for adaptions, being in a new city. For example, the local bus station, only a 15 min drive, is staffed between the hours of 7am-1pm and 6pm-10pm, unless the system is down or they can't find someone to work the shift, in which case the office is closed. It resides in a gas station... "Chuckies" to be precise. Our guests need tickets to ride the bus - seems like an obvious thing, but because of the way their sponsors buy the tickets, the multiple last names of people and character limitation on the ticket, e-tickets are nearly impossible, so we rely on a printed ticket, which we cannot obtain between the hours of 1pm and 6pm, when our most popular bus goes by. It makes it tricky to say the least, and we didn't know how good we had it last week, just having to deal with getting people to the station. It has worked out only because of the amazing support of the Las Cruces community and drivers who drop everything to go to the bus terminal in Las Cruces, or an hour away in El Paso. One volunteer even drove all the way to Deming to try to catch up to a bus that departed and wouldn't let our client on because she did not have a printed ticket. Oh - and the closest airport is an hour away. That's fun!!

So needless to say, adaptations and ingenuity have been essential. What makes this so fun is the staff. 

This year's marks 10 years since I started going to Kenya, and being here with a familiar tired feeling in every cell of my body and yet complete satisfaction and joy, it all just seems like an appropriate way to mark my 10 year life changing moment. Ten years ago, I decided to quit my job as a systems engineer working on satellites and move to Canada, to take a break for a year and devote time to helping the people of Mikinduri Kenya, somehow, and take a breathe to find myself. It was the start of my journey, my first experience of 'community', mission, and complete joyful purpose. I remember crying so hard on the way home, devastsd to leave the group. 

While these 2 weeks weren't as intense as Kenya, there has been a familiar communal sense of purpose, drive, and love to serve the people who come to us, true visitation moments. I am grateful for my experiences with operations of satellites in space, medical clinics in Kenya, and hotel refugee hospitality in the southwest US, and I have to smile at the similarities, mostly the love and drive of the people that serve together. 

We have welcomed 200 people into the 26 rooms over the last 4 days, and that means also getting 200 people to an airport or a bus station, feeding them, providing toiletry welcome bags, travel bags with food, meals in between, and the whole process of registration. It has been all-encompassing. 

I won't get into too many stories, but here are some updates we learned about the treatment of the people before they come to us. One day, a woman and her 7 month old infant arrived from the bus and was immediately whisked away to the ER by one of our drivers because her baby had a fever - 103.6  according to the hospital, and he has been admitted for the last few days. (And the guards knew the baby was ill but did nothing for him on the 1 hour drive here). A child came with a burn on his face from the cold of the air conditioning in the holding centers - actually burned like frost nip you'd see way up north. We are told that the cold undercooked burritos were provided for adults, and children are given animal crackers and juice 3 times a day. They describe the feeling of longterm starvation, and being taunted as in one instance, an obese guard sat in front of the children eating a hamburger "at them" - the children! I could go on but don't need to. 

Some fun stories to leave you with, as it seems to be a constant paradox here - the interplay of suffering and laughter. One day, Sister Cathy asked if there was an extra person to help her in clothing. As much as we wanted to give her support, there was no one available. The next thing I know, there is a bilingual woman in Cathy's room - a friend of a friend that she made here in Las Cruces! Only Cathy could be so resourceful! 

A second story - as the people were getting off the bus (and we were quickly responding to the sick baby), one of the women asked about my cross and I could her them whispering something about "religioso hermana" and I confirmed it. Later on, one of the volunteers heard someone tell their family member on the phone that they were in a lovely place with the "little sisters" - "monjita". 

It has been an emotion time, with lumps in my throat and an emptiness in my chest, to see some people so overwhelmed with finally talking to their family member, hearing about the cruel conditions before they came to us, and hugs goodbye as they head off for their new lives. It will be hard to leave in just 36 hours and I dread my last day - tomorrow, hoping the shift will never end. Luckily, it begins in 5.5 hours so I should rest before the fun begins again and hopefully we welcome a new crew of people on a rest stop to their new home. 

The nature of our border experience

I am excited to offer you another perspective from the border. Tonight, our guest blogger (and my novitiate director) Sister Maco, CND reflects on the nature of our experience:

Today, here at the border, I was invited by Libby to be a guest blogger. To be perfectly honest, Libby's reflections of the many experiences at the border have given you all a great overview of what has been happening and there is no need for me to add more or really to repeat. The truth is, my heart is filled with much gratitude which I know will take a while for me to unpack. However, today, I agreed to share some highlights that came to mind and will remain with me.  (I'm actually following Libby's orders to be a guest blogger today.  After all, she is the shift coordinator! So, I better do what I'm told!)  Anyhow, Cathy and I were able to sneak out and visit a retreat center in the area.  Our couple of hours' respite and a walk along a labyrinth after several very long days gave me the opportunity to pause and tap into the many graces I was gifted with. I was grateful simply for the opportunity to reflect on the walk along the side of our migrants
. 

Since we arrived, I have had several tasks.  I have been one of the designated drivers. I oversaw the toiletries department, and I have given out medicines. And, yes, I too made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!  I helped set up a new hosting location and went out to purchase needed supplies. However, what's been most impressive to me are the many visitation moments with the families. While I speak some Spanish, I've been able to understand and get by with simple terms thanks to my Italian and French. The truth is, too, the migrants are very forgiving of my broken Spanish and for whatever reason, we have been able to communicate and understand each other. The deep eyes of a child, an adolescent, a mom or a dad spoke to me of resiliency, courage and strength. The many hugs and sign languages have humanized compassion.  

There have been moments when I was moved to tears and my empathic side kicked in! I heard stories of their long and horrific journeys or how they have been treated at the border or seeing their monitors tightly placed around their ankles where they couldn't remove their pants unless we helped them cut the ankle cuff of their only pair of pants.  In addition, their shoelaces were confiscated (really, not sure why, even from shoes of young children!) Many trips we made to get new shoelaces so they could continue the journey. I guided each family through security and offered explicit instructions on what would happen once I left them to wait to board a bus or plane. And let me tell you, there was a lot to explain and a lot that they went through just at the airport or bus terminal.  As I would hug each one of them on their way, I remember most of their strong grip of not wanting to let go.  With tears in my eyes and my parting words of "Buena suerta" and "Que Dios te bendiga", I have been aware of the need to let go of the outcome because what's most important is the recognition that each short visitation moment held the seed of love and this seed of love is God deeply rooted in each person. Yes, it will take awhile for me to unpack the many gifts. But gratefully, having made the journey with Cathy and Libby, we will have many opportunities to make meaning of our shared experiences in the future.

The sheer beauty of the area on this winter day, the song of birds, the mountains and desert trails with cacti plants offer a paradox of the lived reality of our migrants' journey as thy continue to walk North.  May our passionate God of love guide our migrants to the promise land. May it be so...