The Eyes of a Perro

This past year has turned my perspective of the world upside down in many ways.

I have learned that some of the most divine things are the “ordinary,” everyday things: walking through the park, seeing the complexity of humanity in the random strangers all around me, saying hi to the lady selling the gelatina on may way to work, reveling in the group of people holding hands as we pray before la comida at the shelter, feeling grateful for the hard work that mi mamá puts into making breakfast each day.

I have discovered that mission work – at least the kind that I have taken part in – does not take place in a church, in a Bible Study, or passing out pamphlets. Many of my holiest moments this year have come over a beer with co-workers[1] or tequila shots with my host family. The only conversion that I have made this year has been winning my host mamá over to locally grown and roasted coffee beans brewed in a French Press (rather than Folger’s made in a coffee pot). I have certainly received much more ministering from family, friends and co-workers than I have given.

I have realized that spiritual language – or Christian jargon – is not so Christian when it excludes and isolates others.

I have witnessed accompaniment more in friends who are self-proclaimed atheists, academics and socialists than I ever witnessed in the church.

I have seen that working as a guía for migrants or carrying a backpack of drugs for the narcos is sometimes the most feasible way to sacar adelante, to support one’s family and improve one’s life.

I have realized that local police aren’t working to defend the public when they have target practice on migrants riding atop trains; when they search and interrogate individuals on the sole basis that they are darker-skinned.

My view of the world is more muddied now. People and things do not fit in the categorical boxes in which I used to put them. The world is too complex.

“I accused the Border Patrol agents and the agency’s over-all culture of creating an over simplified and overly harsh duality out of the complex reality of migration. Walking out of the Border Patrol station, I realized that I was equally as guilty. I walked into the station so ready to see my anger and frustration personified. I had been vilifying Border Patrol since I’d begun to learn about this issue. I had built a very clear and simple duality. Migrant=good. Border Patrol=bad. I wanted to hate her and all she stood for, but I couldn’t. She was kind, patient, human.

Part of me, wishes it could be that simple. Part of me wishes there were one singular policy or organization against which I could unleash all my energy and frustration. However, migration is interwoven into so many different aspects of policy, business and culture. The issue itself calls us out of our limited and dualistic way of analyzing issues…

Our visit to the Douglas, AZ Border Patrol station showed me one more facet of the incredibly complex issue of human migration along our Southern border. It reminded me of the critical importance of bringing humanity to what can so easily become a theoretical political or economic conversation. It reminded me that humanity should extend along both sides of the border.” –Alyssa Kaplan, my friend and fellow Mexico YAGM

I continue to default to categorizing and stereotyping. It is, after all, a tool to help our brains understand the complexity of the world around us. But, it’s not something I will live with contently. As a result of the experiences I have had, it saddens me to see us categorizing one another, labeling the other, perpetuating stereotypes, and creating division.

***

During our visit to the border, we had lunch, coffee and discussion with Douglas, Arizona’s mayor Danny Ortega one day. Mayor Ortega recalled the days when all that separated Douglas from its’ sister city Agua Prieta was a three-strand barb-wired fence. In those days, he and his friends would hop over the fence to go play baseball in Mexico. And, their Mexican compadres would come visit Douglas to play soccer. Annual bi-national horse races were held, pitting a Mexican horse against a U.S. American horse. Folks gathered on both sides of the border, bringing their tamales, hot dogs, and cerveza. It was a time of community, and celebration.

Lunch & Discussion with Mayor Danny Ortega, Cristobal Lohr Castelo
of the Mexican Consulate, and café owner Robert Uribé.
Check out Galiano's Café & Smoothies if you are ever in Douglas, AZ.
Photo Cred: Frontera de Cristo 

The government never asked the residents of Douglas – and certainly not the residents of Agua Prieta – before constructing the wall. They just built it. The wall divided families, hurt the economy of Douglas, and separated the bi-national community.[2]

The border wall created dichotomy. One side was labeled as good, the other bad. One innocent, the other criminal. Fear was struck in our hearts, dividing us from one another. (Todd Miller as quoted in Martin, 2016).[3]

***

We complicate life so much sometimes.

We debate the wall. We debate immigration.

Will letting immigrants in hurt us economically?

What are the social and political effects of accepting immigrants into our nation?

Sometimes we make a mess of things, and just need to remind ourselves to view the world with the eyes of a niño.

South side of the border, looking north.
Photo Cred: Gracia Johnson

What makes her different from me? Why can I visit her in her country, but she can’t come to visit me in mine? Why is there a wall to keep us from playing ball together?

As I stood a few feet south of the border wall contemplating these things, the little dog accompanying us crossed between the posts in the wall (about six inches wide) into the U.S. We whistled and laughed. The dog had no idea that what he was doing was “illegal.” He had no idea that this line in the sand separated one nation from another. Wiggling his tail, he strolled down the Border Patrol’s dirt road, sniffed around a bit, then came right back.

 El Cachorrito (perro)
Photo Cred: Gracia

My heart was warmed. I thought to myself, why can’t we see the world with the eyes of a perro?

***

Gracias a Dios, there are people working to muddy the dichotomy, unite the nations, cross borders, and build community. Mayor Ortega shared that many who work and go to school in Douglas live on the Agua Prieta side. City officials in Douglas are given healthcare in Agua Prieta. Bi-national artwalks and concerts are hosted along the border wall. Douglas provides fire-trucks to Agua Prieta. The two cities are organizing a teacher exchange program. It’s just a start, but it’s something. There is hope.

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[1] My co-volunteer and American friend John (who has his MSW and is currently a Fulbright scholar researching Central American migrants in Mexico as a part of his doctoral research in Anthropology) told me that he most feels like a social worker when he talks over a beer with our co-workers in the shelter. It is in these moments that they are finally able to express their true feelings about our work in the shelter and air out frustrations. It is in these moments that we hear one another’s lives, hold one another’s complaints and struggles, and encourage one another to persevere in this work – work that John calls today’s equivalent of the Underground Railroad.

[2] Douglies relies economically on the consumption of citizens of Agua Prieta, Mexico. While about 20,000 live in Douglas, around 100,000 people live in Agua Prieta. These Mexican citizens are hungry to have access to things not available on their side of the border, and things like milk, gasoline, phones and computers that are substantially cheaper in the U.S. Today 65% of Douglas’ city budget comes from sales taxes. Of these taxes, 75-85% are paid by Mexican nationals. The numbers were even higher before, but now stricter border regulations prevent Mexicans without some sort of visa from crossing the port of entry.

[3] Martin, A. (2016, February 11). The Empire's War on the Border - Full Documentary //

Empire_File018/19 [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e94K30251MI