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.