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October
3, 2005 
VOL.
43, NO. 17Oakland,
CA
East Bay young
adults confront
U.S.-Mexico border realities
A chain link fence between El Paso and Ciudad Juárez
marks the division that once separated two countries, but which now divides
neighbors and friends, segregates possibilities and hopelessness, and
keeps poverty from affluence. It is here at this fence that we met Jorge,
a boy of about 14, thin and in ill-fitting clothes, with empty eyes and
fingers interlaced in the metal.
From his Mexican side of the fence, he walked up and silently stared at
our eight-person Border Awareness Experience (BAE) group standing on the
U.S. side. He listened absent-mindedly to the history of the division,
the political implications and illegal crossings. In an instant, the words
that had been blowing without weight around us suddenly settled in our
minds as we made our unspoken connection with Jorge.
We were there to see the needs of immigrants, young adults in particular,
by participating in BAE, a program run by Annunciation House, founded
in 1978 by a group of young adults from El Paso who had decided to live
in community and in solidarity with the poor, in order to experience the
Gospel more deeply.
Their primary service is welcoming undocumented immigrants from Mexico
and Central America and providing short-term food and shelter for them
until they figure out their next step in their journey toward employment
and/or reuniting with family in other cities or states.
Rubin Garcia, one of the three founding members and current director,
staffs the Annunciation House entirely with unpaid volunteers. Although
a Catholic organization, it receives neither government nor church funding,
but rather operates solely on donations.
Our group stayed in a house in the Colonia Puerto de Anapra in Juarez,
the city directly across the border from El Paso. We experienced crossing
the border on foot and public transportation.
One evening in El Paso we visited with Bernacio, newly arrived at Annunciation
House. A tall, lean man about 35 years old, Bernacio smiled readily and
seemed to joke often. He had been brought to the United States from southern
Mexico, against his wishes, by his uncle when he was 13 years old, at
the request of his father who had
wanted a better life for his son.
Eight years ago he was deported and he is now attempting to bring his
three children and their mother, who are still in Colorado, back to his
home in Michoacan, Mexico, where he owns a small restaurant.
On another day, we visited the offices of the border patrol, now under
the umbrella of Homeland Security – a huge organization in El Paso.
With millions of dollars pumped into hiring patrol officers, surveillance
cameras, and weapons, they are now able to track people crossing into
Texas, even in the cover of night. Thermal night vision goggles track
body heat, so those who cross through the cold waters of the Rio Grande
look like floating heads, “ghosts” trying desperately to disappear
into the El Paso night.
One evening we were given the task of preparing dinner for ourselves with
food we’d purchased from the local grocer with the same daily wages
that a Mexican worker would receive. The minimum wage in Juarez is 42
pesos per day, the equivalent of about 46 cents per hour.
Although many products in Mexico are cheaper than in the U.S., they are
not cheap enough for many workers and many basic staples including water,
milk, sugar and coffee cost more than in the U.S.
For the week of our stay, we lived on rice, beans and tortillas; it was
all we could afford. When we needed to purchase toilet paper, it was 4.50
pesos per roll.
We wanted to purchase fresh vegetables and
fruit, but it was not available at the local store. Meat was out of the
question, and a variety of food was minimal.
Many households are not hooked up to a water supply and must purchase
barrels of water every few days.
We began to understand the factors that drive people to emigrate.
We met Raphael, 14 years old, who had walked from Honduras for two months
for a chance to come to the U.S. to work and send money to his family.
We met single mothers, families, the elderly. We heard stories of financial
hardships that cause families to be torn apart and people to risk their
lives at the borders. We learned why they are willing to suffer ridicule
and blame for being undocumented immigrants – their desire to feed
and take care of their families.
As we moved back into our lives here in the Bay Area, we realized that
the stories of many people in our communities are not much different than
of those in El Paso and Juárez.
We are asking ourselves how to reach out and continue to listen to the
marginalized of our society. Do we choose to ignore the faces such as
Jorge’s, silent and hungry, or do we look them in the eye and share
in their silence and confusion?
(Eunice Park is the coordinator for young adult ministry for the Diocese
of Oakland. She and Cristina Clariza of St. Joseph Parish in Fremont organized
the pilgrimage to El Paso. They were joined by five other Bay Area Catholics
including Mary Jansen, director of young adult ministry and campus ministry
for the Archdiocese of San Francisco.)
Jorge, a thin teenager, silently hangs on the fence at
El Paso, Texas, separating the United States and Mexico.
MARY JENSEN PHOTO
