On the Border

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

-"The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus

A couple summers ago, I had the pleasure of visiting the Statue of Liberty once again, climbing up her stairs and admiring her majesty.  The poem, a symbol, recognizable words, evaded me, but it was important to me that I found it.  A very friendly National Parks Ranger escorted me to the poem, in the depths of the museum, near Lady Liberty's feet, it stands.  The poem was written well over a century ago, but it is still there.  It has not been edited.  Seclusion of certain groups has not been added.  It does not say, "give me your brightest, your wealthiest, your healthiest."  It says, "give me your tired, your poor."

I saw the huddled masses yearning to breathe free this weekend in a tent city in Matamoros, Mexico.  I saw the homeless and tempest-tost, and yet, they are not being welcomed by Lady Liberty's loving arms.

A year ago, I followed Rachel, my "do-er" friend who always finds a way to help to McAllen, Texas.  (Last year's McAllen post)  We worked at the Humanitarian Respite Center in McAllen, Texas for a long weekend.  At the time, the tiny center, no where near equipped to handle the influx of immigrants did an astounding job of feeding and clothing people who had just crossed the border legally and putting them on buses to their loved ones scattered throughout the country.  Earlier this year, they were able to move into a new, expansive facility, equipped with space that could not have been fathomed last year.

This summer, the Center welcomed upwards of 1,000 people a day.  Yes, 1,000 people a day.  We planned our trip then, eager to get back and do whatever we could to help, knowing that helping 1,000 people on a daily basis takes an incredible amount of money and man-power.  Then, within a month, the number of immigrants the Center hosted daily dissolved to under 20 a day.  Why?  Because of the new, stricter laws put into place by the administration.  So, the trip that five of us had planned, changed course, but we were still eager to go and do what we could.

We were scheduled to leave Thursday evening and arrive late in McAllen.  Our first flight was delayed, meaning we would miss our connected flight.  With some quick thinking and calls to customer service, we got a flight into Dallas late Thursday, a hotel at the airport and a flight out early the next morning.  Nothing ever runs as smoothly as planned.  Our flight continued to be delayed, and finally landed in Dallas around 11:30pm.  The hotel was close to the airport, but not in the airport as we had at first assumed.  Meeting up with the shuttle proved more complicated than we had planned, and so it wasn't until a quarter to one that I curled up on the floor of our hotel room to get a solid four and half hours of sleep before getting up to get on another plane.  As the plane began its descent into McAllen, and my eyes struggled to stay open, I realized that the difficult twelve hours I had just experienced did not even begin to compare to the days, weeks, months of hellacious travel that many of those I was headed to meet had endured.  Sometimes, we all need a little perspective check in our lives.

We hit the ground running with shopping errands given to us by one of the "on the ground" volunteers we had met last year.  We purchased dozens of sets of long underwear for children, knowing that the temperatures on Friday were dipping and were especially chilly to these people who rarely see cold weather, along with tarps to go under and on top of the tents. Mayra, the local angel who daily takes items across to the immigrants, greeted us and we followed her to Brownsville, Texas, about an hour south along the border.

Our team: Rachel, Lydia, Emily and Betsy

There is not a tent city in Reynosa, the town across the border from McAllen.  We are not completely certain as to why this is, as the local volunteers had a variety of answers, and even they were a bit uncertain.  Some said that Reynosa was more dangerous and not as welcoming to the migrants.  Some said that it was because there was a detention center there, and people were more likely to be arrested and held.  Some said it was because if asylum seekers were given an interview, it would be in Brownsville, so they settled close by.

Each of us anticipated driving across the border, partly because we assumed the tent city was a short distance away, but instead Mayra parked the car and we got out, pulling wagons of blankets, long underwear and tacos made by another group of volunteers.  We paid a dollar in quarters and then walked the short, five minute walk, across the Rio Grande into Mexico.  One would think that such a short walk, one would hardly notice the difference, but before even exiting the bridge, we could see the sprawling tents covering the hillside of what was once a city park.  Some of the tents backed up to the government buildings where they applied for asylum.  The guards on the Mexican side sometimes examined each of our items carefully, asking lots of questions about prices and amounts, but other guards saw what it was for and barely batted an eye.

Short pedestrian bridge into Mexico.

First time in Matamoros

I have seen and heard a couple different estimates on just how many people are living in this tent city, but it appears somewhere between 1,500 and 3,000.  They are living in tents, no matter the summer heat nor the winter chill.  They are living in a place that in no way is equipped to handle the huddled mass.  Port-o-potties are in the center, and one can imagine the stench coming from them as the sun bakes them throughout the day and the flies that circle close by.  Showers?  Well, the Rio Grande is right there.  Water?  Barrels with spouts provide water, but of what cleanliness, I know not.  Trash is partially under control, partly because Mayra gives out trash bags when she arrives, and those who return with full bags of trash seem to have a better chance of receiving one of the items she has brought with her.

Part of the tent city

Distributing Long Underwear

It appears that when people arrive, they present themselves to Border Patrol and are given a date of when to appear for their interview.  For whatever reason, some people are given a date a few weeks away, and some are given a date months away.  I saw multiple people carrying around official papers with "Notice to Appear" at the top, guarding the papers and seeking help in filling them out.

After distributing the items, we went back into Brownsville for dinner, but realizing how chilly it was getting, decided we could help again.  We went to the Mercado in town and purchased dozens of hats, gloves and socks, hoping they would bring warmth.  Even in this process, we faced a moral dilemma.  We were able to purchase hats and gloves for .50 and $1, most likely meaning they came from sweat shops where these people were running from.  And yet, if that meant we could help to keep them warm, shouldn't we still purchase them?  There were many times throughout the weekend where I felt that all we were doing was giving a man a fish, rather than teaching him to fish.  No, we didn't get to the root of the problem and help solve the crisis, but can a man who is starving even have the strength to learn how to fish?

Putting gloves on a hand that likely has never felt gloves, nor had the need for them before.

Even we were unprepared for the cold, so we purchased matching hats (which, yes, of course, we left in Matamoros).   Team: Rachel, Mayra, Willy, Betsy, Lydia, Rebecca and Emily

Exhausted and worn out, yet sleeping in comfortable beds in a safe place, in the beautiful home of a wonderful founder of the Humanitarian Respite Center, we slept soundly, and somewhat guiltily.

On Saturday morning, we went back to the Respite Center to meet up with Willy, whom we had met with Mayra the day before.  Let me first tell you about Willy, one of my new favorite people.  When he was 18, he met a young American woman on vacation in his home country of Guatemala.  They fell in love, and he followed her to New Jersey where they married, had three kids and he became a US citizen.  Knowing that education was the most important thing he could provide for his children, Willy worked long, hard hours as a pastry chef in a 5-star hotel, and was able to send them all to Catholic school.  They are now grown, with lucrative jobs and Willy and his wife have separated.  Last year, he came to McAllen with his dioceses and realized how much needed to be done.  So, he sold his home and car and moved to McAllen.  He has very little, and gives so much of himself to help anyone and everyone who may need the help.  When he was young, he said he really wanted to be a missionary, but he fell in love, and well, that changed things in the Catholic church.  So now, he felt he was getting to fulfill his lifelong dream.


We worked with another team of volunteers on Saturday morning, some nuns, some medical missionaries, and some like Willy spend much of their time and energy there.  We passed out sandwiches and milk (chocolate milk brought wide smiles of delight).  Once all were fed, came some necessities like diapers, formula and baby wipes all purchased, bagged and sorted by other volunteers.  We learned of a makeshift clinic on site, and were thrilled to visit them and learn of ways that we could financially contribute to their work at the border.

Crossing Saturday morning, wagons in tow

Distributing milk and sandwiches.  Please notice the adorable one in the green hat proudly wearing the long underwear given out the night before.

Interactions with those living in the tent city grew as our faces became more familiar.  Two young men told us they had been taxi drivers in Honduras, but showed us a photo of a friend of theirs, a fellow taxi driver who had been shot while driving.  They ran, fearing for their lives.  We met Edwin, a 21-year-old man awaiting his interview.  He is there alone.  It seems that women are more frequently granted asylum, and so his sisters were already waiting for him in Virginia, but he had to be patient.  One can only imagine the stories that they could all tell.  What fears and horrors caused these young mothers to decide to walk thousands of miles with young children in tow.

Edwin, enjoying the book and dictionary Rachel found for him.

Thanks to the incredible generosity of our friends and family members, we spent Saturday afternoon shopping and even renting a cargo van to haul more supplies from the Respite Center to the border.  Willy was so excited about the possibility that he loaded up the vehicle finding more and more things for us to take.  We purchased vitamins, ibuprofen, bandaids, alcohol wipes, and children's board books for use in the clinic.

Should I be worried that no one at Costco batted an eye when we checked out like this?

Willy was so excited about the cargo van, that he continued to load us up!

Interesting fact: cargo vans echo a lot.  Also, they drive a lot like a pick-up truck.  I'm thankful for my days as a pick-up truck driver and how useful those days continue to be.

Arriving back at the "casita" later than anticipated, we got right to work with bagging hundreds of diapers into bags of a dozen and putting children's vitamins into small bags of seven, the dosage for a week.  At some point, delirium set in, and although we were faced with incredible dire circumstances, we found ourselves in near tears from laughter.  What we saw and experienced was draining both physically and emotionally, but this time with friends, with gummy vitamin residue on our hands was crucial.  It kept us going and kept us from falling apart.

The U-Haul cargo van that we assumed was much too large was quickly packed to the brim with wagon loads of items we had purchased and items Willy was eager to deliver.  We took a seemingly endless supply of toothbrushes, toiletries kits, reusable bags, chapstick, deodorant, large diapers, snacks and the medicine we had purchased.

Cargo van pre-organization

Cargo-van post organization

Upon arrival, we had decided that we wanted to distribute the items in an assembly line of sorts, starting with a bag and putting one of each thing in the bag.  This idea seemed to quickly disintegrate because half of our team had to return across the border to retrieve even more wagon loads (and Emily even traversed a third time for even more supplies).  Lydia, a beautiful young woman whom I was lucky enough to teach and since travel with, and I looked at each other with a moment of panic.  But before we could even comprehend a new plan, two young boys jumped up and took places in line eagerly helping to pass out items.  They were kind, cheerful and incredibly efficient.  I'm sure they joined us for a multitude of reasons: there is little else to do, they got to share in smiles as they passed out items, and sure, we watched them tuck away some chosen items, but we could not have cared in the least.  Lydia speaks Spanish, but aside from greetings, I can say incredibly little.  Truly though, aside from smiles and some pointing, little else was needed.

That little smile was worth all the miles we traveled.

Remember that seemingly endless supply of toiletries?  That loaded cargo van?  Every time I looked up, the line was the same length, no matter how many bags we made and distributed.  We gave away hundreds of toiletries bags and then three wagon loads of snacks.

Once all of the necessities were handed out, we brought out the non-essentials, the things that help to make our lives a little brighter.  Kickballs were quickly enjoyed both as soccer balls and volleyballs, giving children something to do and bringing smiles to their faces.  The ever ingenious and thoughtful Rachel had had the idea of bringing finger nail polish.  I believe this was my favorite part of the entire weekend.  The group painted dozens of hands, bringing smiles to the faces of women and girls.  I like to think that in these moments we showed our greatest humanity.  Sure, their hands were dirty and we could have been fearful of germs, but in our actions, we showed that we are all human, and we realize that they, although in very different situations, are just like us.  Betsy even got down on the ground and painted some toenails, the ultimate sacrifice to show love to a stranger.

Betsy's servant heart at work

Professional volleyball moves

As we passed out different items over our time, whether decorative toiletry bags, hats or gloves, we noticed multiple people who seemed picky or wanted more than one.  At first, I admit that I was frustrated, wanting them to be grateful and just take one.  But then, I had another gut check, a realization that I needed.  Am I not choosy in picking items for myself?  Do I not have a plethora of winter hats as opposed to one?  Do I have dignity and perhaps even some vanity in worrying how I look?  Absolutely, to all of the above.  I realized then that I had no right to judge, and only worried that I would give an entire collection of items to someone if only they asked.

Matamoros

It takes a village.

Matamoros, with the bridge to America in the background.

After purchasing more hats and gloves to be delivered the next day, when cold, wet temperatures were headed back, we said our goodbyes to Willy and Mayra, thanking them for all of their work that they do day in and day out to touch the lives of those living in Matamoros.  Our lovely hostess, Hermi fed us dinner and helped fill in some of the gaps of things that we did not understand about what is happening.  She and several others are the founders of the Humanitarian Respite Center and have worked tirelessly to help those entering our country feel welcomed.

And then, without much hassle at all, we came home.  We came home to safe neighborhoods, warm beds and families who love us.  Leaving what we saw behind, trying to go back to normal is difficult.  Interacting with people who have so little, and yet are so gracious and hopeful is equal parts heartbreaking and inspiring.

We saw, through the incredible generosity of our friends and family members, that so many people want to do something, and yet don't know what to do.  We, in fact, still have some money to spend because of this generosity, despite the amount of things that we purchased.  We are currently awaiting an estimate from a local doctor for flu vaccinations, and then will decide where to spend any other money we may have left over.

But there are LOTS of ways that you can help financially, educationally and politically.  We encountered lots of people and lots of organizations doing the right thing and helping people.  Did they perfectly blend together?  No, of course not.  As with any groups of people working in the same area, trying to accomplish the same goals, there were often egos that got involved, but overall, every person I met had the best of intentions and their hearts were in the right place.

These are some people and organizations that we met and worked with along the way that you can contribute to:
River Ministries - This was the team we met running the makeshift clinic.
Team Brownsville - These people provide two meals a day and an hour a week of school for the children.  (This report was on NPR about them.)
Catholic Charities - The Humanitarian Respite Center is a blessing, and with any luck will soon be welcoming hundreds more people once again.
Mayra's Wishlist - Mayra has created a wishlist of items on Amazon that she distributes.

Educate yourself (as I will continue to!) about just what is going on, the dangers people go through to get to the United States and what we can do to help.  I recently read Enrique's Journey written by Sonia Nazario, a Pulitzer Prize Winning author, that documented a young boy's journey and his assimilation into the United States.  It was horrifying and eye-opening.  I also recently read The Only Road, a middle-grades fiction following two kids escaping to safety into the United States.

Since most of the people that I met were from Honduras, I began researching more about Honduras and what we, as US citizens can do to support the country and make people want to stay in their own homes.  Honduras is violent and corrupt.  I went to the country with Heifer International, and thoroughly enjoyed my time there meeting local people and seeing the work that Heifer was doing, but even at that point, a coup happened, and we were forced to stay indoors at times for safety.  It seems that problems compound one another there, but most of it starts with a corrupt government.  Corrupt leaders keep much of the money themselves, driving their country into deep poverty with 66% of the population living below the poverty.  Murders go un-investigated because of fear, bribes and lack of police.  Even teachers were "bought" by a leader and although they had some of the highest salaries around, they weren't doing the work or were not even certified teachers.  Even the medication is sub-par and often barely worth more than a placebo.  This New York Times article by the same author as Enrique's Journey explains a lot.  It also helped me realize that without necessarily meaning to, America has caused many of the problems that fuel the violence in Honduras because of our country's dependency on illegal drugs.  We are fueling the gangs and drug cartels.  Sonia Nazario also mentioned this organization helping to end corruption and the positive work that they have done so far.

Our Congressmen need to hear from us, their constituents.  Tell them that we want more done for those huddled masses yearning to be free at our southern border.  Help them to also see that putting funds in the right hands of support in Honduras could mean that fewer people will want to leave their home.  Instead, the administration has "punished" Honduras for allowing so many people to leave their country by cutting support to the country.  You can read more about that here.

You can also go!  Go, see first hand those who are suffering.  Meet people, hear their stories and then share with others.  Matamoros, Mexico is said to be very dangerous.  I cannot necessarily attest to that as I barely went 100 feet into Mexico, but I never once felt unsafe.  Sure, there were moments of angst when I was a bit nervous or worried that our large influx of items may start a riot, but they never did.  People were patient, kind, and appreciative.  I will be happy to pass on the contacts I've made there, or you can contact the agencies I mentioned above.  But I believe that the more people who see the situation first hand, the more things will change.

Take your own team to the border!  You won't be sorry, and you won't forget it!

Overall, though, remember that we are all children of immigrants.  Remember that at some point in our own histories, we have been members of those huddled masses yearning to be free.  And remember, that just like you, these people had no choice into the country in which they were born.  Let us all be like Lady Liberty and shine a lamp welcoming the tired, the poor, the homeless and tempest-torn.