Smith: Border Days

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This is an account of a just-completed two-day trip to the Mexican border, a way of keeping abreast of the ups and downs of life there, not only for the few remaining migrants but for permanent residents and their tenuous lives.

On Friday, August 8, I drove from Santa Fe to Sunland Park, New Mexico, the heat rising every few miles, it seemed. It was 106 degrees in Truth or Consequences, for example.

I arrived at the border wall between Sunland Park, New Mexico and Anapra, Mexico just before dark. For about five years, my wife and I have cruised down the dirt road that flanks this wall, stopped to talk to the residents of Anapra through the bars of the wall, spoken to the Border Patrol agents who patrol that area – they are always courteous and helpful with information – and talked to the Mexican soldiers when they were stationed on the Anapra side. I’ve been on Border Patrol tours there, the most recent one being on July 23.

Now it is part of the new militarized zone and closed to journalists like me unless you’re with the Border Patrol. This is a shame because this short area was a microcosm of the larger border issues.

On Saturday morning, I crossed into Juárez via the international bridge. The first person to greet me was Marta who holds a cup out for tips as you exit the area. She speaks perfect English, having lived in Kentucky for much of her life. How did she end up begging on the streets of Juárez?

I then took food and diapers to the nearby Respettrans migrant shelter. At one time not long ago, there would be at least two hundred people here awaiting asylum hearings. On Saturday there were only 55. One woman from Michoacán, Ana Yeli Correa has been there for a year with her family; I wonder if they will ever get hearings.

Then I drove west to a school for Tarahumara Indians. School is out for the summer but the local families in this very impoverished area recognize my car and come running to see what I have brought. This time it was schoolbooks, diapers and several bags of oranges. The kids eagerly grabbed the schoolbooks and the mothers took the diapers. The difficulty here in that the kids not only have their regular courses but also have to learn Spanish.

The next stop was a mental asylum named Punto Zero run by a heroic woman named Lupe. She and her former husband, Beto (now deceased) had a falling out with the leadership of the other, larger asylum, Vision in Action. After working there for seventeen years, they were accused of stealing, left and eventually turned up with this facility which now cares for about 35 patients, mostly elderly. It’s a barebones operation so we bring food, clothing and a little cash. This is a stark situation, but the patients seem happy and are well fed and cared for. It shows you what can be accomplished without the kind of money states like my home state of New Mexico have for mental health care.

Lupe’s problem is that the document giving her access to this site includes a man named Raimundo who wants access to whatever money she receives and has threatened Lupe, me and others who are trying to help. We don’t know how to deal with him. Fearing for herself and her family, she may leave. What happens then to these patients?

The next stop was a visit to the house built in memory of my first wife who died on April 3, 2016. It was funded by donations from friends to Siguiendo Los Pasos de Jesus (Following the Footsteps of Jesus) an El Paso-based non-profit led by a dynamo named Jane Fuller. SPJ has built more than 500 houses in the last twenty years. On the case of this house, young Hector Beltrán, the last member of the family placed there, was killed in a cartel incident and Fuller’s workers are reluctant to go to the house for fear of cartel retaliation.

I’ve gotten to know the neighbors, Lupe and Enrique, however, and for a few dollars they keep the “capilla” or shrine next to the house clean for me.

Enrique has lost a leg to diabetes, a not-uncommon experience here with the raging rate of diabetes. He initially made himself a prosthesis of wood which didn’t seem very effective. On this visit, however, he had a metal one which cost him $300, and he was walking well. Another positive note to the trip.

The last stop was at Vision in Action, the mental asylum started by former addict, José Antonio Galván more than thirty years ago. Galván does heroic work on behalf of some 120 patients; this is the largest mental health facility in Juárez (pop.1.6 million) but now is the time to think about succession. Galván is in his mid-70s. Two weeks earlier I had met with a retired psychiatrist there named Moreno and he was going to partner with Galván. This seemed like a positive step, but Moreno subsequently backed out, thinking that there wouldn’t be enough money for him.

On the positive side, we built a dormitory for some 20 of the women patients. Young and old, hey seem to really care for each other, now that they are away from the often-predatory men.

The obvious long-term need is for a stronger health system along the border but for the moment, Mexico’s President Claudia Sheinbaum has more pressing problems.

Lastly, there was a huge line at the Santa Teresa Port of Entry, so it was easier to drive about 100 miles west to Palomas and cross there. While in line there, I talked with a young man named Jacob who graduated from high school in Deming, New Mexico, speaks perfect English but was deported for a minor offense. Now he’s reduced to selling trinkets to those of us waiting in line to re-enter the US. Can he find a way to re-enter the US legally?

These repeated trips lead to personal relationships; you end up caring deeply for both those who run these programs and those who are being served. Even these tiny gestures that we make can have an impact.

Editor’s Note: The above guest column was penned by border chronicler Morgan Smith, who has been traveling to the border for the last 15 years. He can be reached at Morgan-smith@comcast.net. The column appears in the Rio Grande Guardian with the permission of the author.

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