Images of the Border

I returned from El Paso, Texas, just over a week ago, and only now do I have time to write something about it.  I find it difficult to know where exactly to begin when it comes to describing the trip--I could describe the people I met, the words they told me, the food I ate, or the harsh facts that I learned.  Doing that, though, would make all of it seem like a travelogue, a static listing of places and activities.  It would make it seem like the trip was a holiday in which I followed a series of prescribed plans and enjoyed relative luxury.  The week was so dynamic and challenging that I don't think it would do it justice to describe it like that.  And besides, who takes a vacation in El Paso-Juárez anyway?  For these reasons, I think it best to talk about images.

The general point of the trip was to go to El Paso with a group of other students during February break.  It was called an "alternative break" trip, which is supposed to connote some type of service, but our mission was more academic than service-related.  By academic, I mean to say that we spent the entire week studying the border, the issues and people surrounding it, and immigration.  We met with different actors in immigration activism as well as border patrol officers and an immigration judge.  The idea was to gain a holistic perspective of what exactly immigration is, although I should preface all of this by saying that we stayed at a hospitality house for immigrants all week, so I am (quite) a bit more sympathetic toward one side than the other.

But now I am delving into specifics and giving the laundry list that I said I would withhold.  Back to images.  Our group spent a great deal of time reflecting upon images when we met every night to gather our thoughts, sharing what we saw and how we reacted to them.  While it may sound hokey and abstract, I truly have faith in the idea of images and the power they create.  I will take the first one I really acknowledged as powerful, for instance: the image of the border.  Our first day in El Paso, we toured the border itself and looked across to Mexico.  On the other side was a neighborhood called Anapra.  When I examined what was there, what stood out most was the eerie desolation of the place.  Granted, we were in the desert and the American side was equally barren, but across the fence stood a neighborhood that was virtually empty, save for a little girl who came to approach us and a man in the background.  The girl said that there were very few people living in Anapra and that most of the houses were abandoned.  There was something surreal about it.  On one side, there was a country of poverty and drug wars, and on the other relative privilege.  Each had a distinct culture that had been determined by innumerable factors.

As the week progressed, we learned more about the relationship between the United States and Mexico, about immigration law, about how to cross the border, and a plethora of other relevant information.  We toured a detention center--or a fancy word for jail--and witnessed the process that the undocumented go through if they are caught.  Seeing all of it was revolting in a way.  What an easy way to live among murderers and drug dealers for crossing illegally!  But this was only one of many things that made me realize we can do so much better as a society.  Don't even get me started on the checkpoints that are placed nowhere near the border...

From the balcony of the shelter we stayed at, you could see across to Ciudad Juárez, the mountains behind it nestling it in artificial security.  We never went to Juárez.  The College wouldn't let us cross the border because of the violence, and statistically Juárez is the murder capital of the world.  The closest I got was when I would stand on the balcony every night and stare across the border at the lights of the city, a thousand little orbs giving the false impression of quietness.  Before the trip, I had my own preconceived notions about Juárez, assuming it was a torn-down war zone.  Meeting people from Juárez at the shelter, though, and hearing their stories gave me a fresh perspective: it is still a city, it still has a culture, it still has beautiful people who are doing beautiful things.  I hope someday to return to El Paso and cross over to Juárez in order to see it myself instead of ramble on about what I think it's like.  I have had a longing to go there since I stared across at those lights for the first time.  When I came back to school, I had a lot to think about and still do.  It was a reality that I had not considered before, and while I have no intention to romanticize anything about the trip, it was absolutely refreshing.