“And it goes on, and on, and on, and…” - AZ Trip Part III

The Mariposa Aid Station in Nogales, Arizona is a small, tented lot behind the Mexican aduana. One to four times an hour, the US Government – which now apparently contracts its transports out to Wackenhut (a private security company with a less than sterling record in regard to its respect for human rights) – drops a bus-load of migrants about 200 metres away from the Border. They then, more or less in single-file, walk back into Mexico.

Once across la Frontera, migrants are greeted by humanitarian aid workers. “Bienvenidos! Pasenles!” It’s an odd thing, welcoming someone back into a country they just tried to leave.

Anyways, once greeted, those who are hungry (about half), thirsty (100%), or injured (about 25%) are ushered into the shade of the tents. Which is where we came in. Some of the students helped document cases of abuse by Border Patrol (not a rare thing, since federally there are no rules they have to follow for detentions of less than 72 hours and most migrants are pushed through the system in under 24). Others helped to distribute water in little styrofoam cups and food in the form a piece of bread with frijoles. Which is where much of the strength of my reaction to the experience kicks in. Because after an hour of tending wounds and sore spots, we were given a nice lunch that included soup, enchiladas, burritos, tostadas, and cola. To say the least, the hypocrisy of it all got to me. Thus the poem in AZ Trip Part II. On the whole, though, our trip to Arizona, I think, is what I will think of as the catalyst to my developing my own sense of politics – of having, for the first, time black and white definitions of what is right and wrong, and what needs to be changed and how.

The intensity of our experience in Arizona was not all political or moral, though. The beauty of the geography itself was stunning, and I would be remiss if I failed to include some of the more joyful and often hilarious highlights of the trip.

Such as when, on Friday night, Hannah had to be taught how to pee in the bushes and disperse her spit after brushing her teeth. Or when, upon returning from a trip into the bushes, Hannah asked Julie, “How’d it go?” and the pert reply was, “It went well. I marked my territory”.

Or when we went dancing under the lights of the Milky Way until we saw headlights coming towards us. Then Nicolina made a mock run for the Border, heading “back home to Mexico”.

Yes, my sense of humour has gotten darker here.

Anyways… Saturday morning was fantastic. We were woken up at 6AM to the sweet sound of Journey’s “Don’t stop believin’ ” being blasted from a truck’s stereo system (thank you, Explo, for teaching me the lyrics). Needless to say, I joined in the early morning dance beneath the palest, most beautiful, full desert moon I’ve ever seen. In just my socks, of course, since I’d hidden my sneakers from the bugs in the tent and I’d put the socks in a nearby mesquite bush in the name of easy-access. Speaking of the tent, though, Jules, Hannah and I definitely made the right choice by sleeping under the stars. Not only because the view was stunning – which the couple of shooting stars we glimpsed definitely helped – but also because Laura hadn’t anchored all of the corners evenly and so woke up with the thing collapsed on top of her. Julie, meanwhile, upon waking up, queried, “I wonder how many ants I ate last night”.

Even being the great proponent of inquiry that I am… Really, Jules, there are some things – unlike one’s politics – that are really best left unquestioned.