Email: Lilli Mann

Dear Friends and Family,

I’ve been doing a lot of walking lately. Walking is an act of great significance here in the Southwest, as nearly all migrants cross the Sonoran desert on foot, traveling for three nights or more until they reach Tucson or Phoenix. This walk is a symbol of the hope and perseverance of people so desperate to help their loved ones that they are driven to risk their lives by embarking on such an arduous journey into a (physically and figuratively) hostile land. And many of them, miraculously, make it to the relative safety of an urban area and begin to work, actively contributing to our economy and managing to send financial support back to their families and communities in their country of origin. However, walking also represents danger, pain, victimization, and death for too many migrants. Since I last wrote to you, I’ve engaged in several intentional walks that have helped me to connect personally with the reality of migration in a new way while also making clear to me the injustices and double standards that define life along the border.

In mid-October, I was part of a cross-border demonstration sponsored by the Coalición de Derechos Humanos, a Tucson-based human rights advocacy organization. This “mobilization” contested the militarization of the border and the construction of physical and virtual walls that create harmful divisions in communities and ecosystems. The U.S. government began constructing 10-foot-high walls out of surplus steel from Gulf War runway strips along the southern border in 1994—the same year that the North American Free Trade Agreement was signed—in an attempt to curb undocumented migration from Mexico and Central America. These walls were erected in more populated border towns such as El Paso, Tijuana, and Nogales, where it was easiest to cross, with the idea that migrants would be discouraged entirely since the less fortified patches of the border were in uninhabited, mountainous sections of desert. However, economic necessity in Latin America has persisted (and, in fact, increased since the implementation of NAFTA) to such a degree that migrants have not been deterred by the heightened risk of migration and have been driven into these most dangerous corridors of the Sonoran desert, resulting in a surge in migrant deaths.

Carrying U.S. and Mexican flags, crosses, and signs with messages such as “We are one family,” we followed an Aztec dance troupe from a park in Nogales, Arizona, on a one-mile walk to the border. We crossed on foot through the port of entry to Nogales, Sonora, blocking traffic in the process. We then gathered in the street, in the shadow of the wall, and formed a circle. The dancers performed a traditional dance in the middle, and participants read poetry, played music, and shared their thoughts in English and Spanish about the wall, U.S. immigration policy, and discrimination. I was then asked to climb on stage and help to read the names of the 237 people whose bodies were recovered in the Arizona desert during the 2006-2007 fiscal year. As I did this, a white cross for each body was placed on the wall. (For the list of names with demographic information, please see the Derechos Humanos Web site. Keep in mind that these are only the migrants whose bodies have been found and so doesn’t include those who have been buried in the desert, consumed by animals, or are still missing. It is estimated that the real death toll is much higher.)

During the entire experience I was impressed by the positive responses we received along the way, both from Nogales residents on the U.S. side who sent us honks, cheers, and thumbs-ups from their cars, storefronts, and second-story windows, and from those on the Mexican side who, though they seemed initially perplexed by our appearance, joined our procession and participated in the open-mike session. This showed me just how much border dwellers object to the painful divisions that have been created within their communities. Prior to the increased restrictions in the late 1990s, residents of Nogales, Arizona, and Nogales, Sonora (and countless other towns along the 1,969 miles of border between the U.S. and Mexico), crossed from one town to the other regularly to visit family members, do their shopping, and worship. Now, only Mexicans living near the border meet the financial requirements to qualify for visas to cross into the United States. And anyone who travels back and forth faces increasingly long lines at the point of entry (for example, I waited three hours with a delegation about a month ago), interrogation, inspection, and sometimes humiliation by customs agents.

The militarization and construction of walls and surveillance technology has adversely affected numerous groups throughout the borderlands. Many individuals, regardless of their political leanings, object to the presence of the U.S. National Guard in the area and the violations of personal liberties and environmental destruction caused by armed Border Patrol agents traveling across public and private land in trucks and ATVs. Last month, the small, primarily Anglo community of Arivaca (which is very split regarding its stance on undocumented immigration) organized a demonstration protesting the installation of a 98-foot tower with cameras and radar south of town, referring to it as “Big Brother” and protesting the invasion of their privacy. The border cuts through the Tohono O’odham Nation and limits members’ abilities to participate in cross-border tribal rituals, especially since many of the older generation were born at home and do not have the necessary documents to verify their status as U.S. citizens. The planned extension of the wall into the San Pedro River Valley has provoked an outcry because it would impede one of the few flowing rivers in the area, and the fence has already disrupted the migration of several species of birds and game. When considering border issues, it is important to remember how relatively new the current geopolitical border is. Groups of indigenous people and animals inhabited this area long before the arrival of Europeans, and they continue to do so. The Southwest (including the land on which I currently live) was part of Mexico until 1848.

Two weeks after the demonstration at the border, I participated in a pilgrimage commemorating the casualties in the desert on the Day of the Dead, the Latin American version of All Saints and All Souls Days, which honors those who have passed on. Beginning at a Catholic church in south Tucson, we walked eight miles to the San Xavier del Bac Mission, a 210-year-old church located in the Tohono O’odham Nation south of the city. We each carried several wooden crosses representing the migrants who had died in the last year. At the mission we added the crosses to a “graveyard” containing markers for all of the known deaths since 2000 and had a brief service.  Since I did not read the informational flyer about the event very carefully, I arrived unprepared, in flip flops, for the long walk. However, every time I felt like complaining I remembered those who walk for multiple days in shoes that are just as inadequate and come even more misinformed about what to expect. I was impressed by the amount of water I consumed during the walk—about seven 16-ounce water bottles in just four hours. After this experience, it became much more real to me how it is impossible to carry enough water for the journey that most migrants make, one that, at best, lasts for three or four days, and can be much longer if anything goes wrong. There are very few, if any, sources of safe water between the border and Tucson.

It is because of this danger that a humanitarian presence is desperately needed in this region. I have become involved with the Samaritans, a faith-based group that seeks to be “a voice of compassion and a healing presence in the Arizona desert” by sending out daily patrols to administer humanitarian aid to those who are lost or in distress. The groups leave before sunrise and travel in four-wheel drive vehicles to high-traffic migrant areas, where they then get out and walk, carrying food, water, and medical supplies (the most common—and most serious—problems addressed are dehydration, hyper- and hypothermia, severe blisters, and sprained ankles). None of the assistance they provide is in violation of the law, and they are a completely transparent organization whose protocol of aid has been reviewed by the Border Patrol. Though it is difficult to find time due to my work schedule, I have participated in two patrols so far, which have had a great impact on me. For my first one, we were joined by a media crew from the television show “Unreported World” on Britain’s Channel Four, which made for a unique experience. While we did not encounter anyone, hiking the migrant trails gave me a new appreciation for the difficulty of the trek that so many make in search of a way to better provide for those that they love. Seeing belongings that were dropped or left behind along the way made the existence of these men, women, and children much more real to me.

On my second patrol, we went with the knowledge of a missing man in the back of our minds. His wife and children had already been located by Border Patrol, and were waiting for news of their husband and father. As we walked, calling out to any migrants in the area that they should come to us if they needed assistance, I was struck by the vastness of the desert and the apparent hopelessness of the situation. Our voices disappeared into the wide, flat landscape, and I wondered how a missing person could ever be found. For those migrants who become injured, ill, or simply fatigued and fall behind their group, or those groups that lose their way, their desperation must be unimaginable. However, the desert is also a place of great beauty and, as my first patrol partner commented to the reporter that was interviewing her, it is such a shame that we are all experiencing it for the reasons that we are—migrants fighting for survival, humanitarian volunteers looking for signs of life, or Border Patrol agents enforcing a flawed and cruel policy.

In all of these walks, I was struck by how unfair it is that I have such freedom of movement, while others do not. It is not fair that I can walk into Mexico as part of a political demonstration without any problems, but Latin American migrants must risk death when they enter our country. It is not fair that I can choose to walk for miles as part of a ceremony, in plain daylight, on the shoulder of well-traveled roads, and stop when I am tired. It is not fair that, after walking in the footsteps of migrants on the desert trails, I can climb into a climate-controlled SUV stocked with food and drink, medical supplies, and communication and navigational devices, and drive back to Tucson. All of this simply because of the country in which I was born.

Despite increased exposure to the suffering that is so common in this part of the world, my experience as a Young Adult Volunteer in Tucson continues to be a positive one. I still love my work at BorderLinks, and feel increasingly more motivated to help others learn about these important issues. The first multi-day delegation that I planned and co-led was a transformative experience for me. I was blessed with the opportunity to spend four days with nine wonderful adults from Oak Grove Presbyterian Church in Minnesota. The group’s openness and generosity in each place that we visited moved me, and they left eager to share the stories they had heard with their church community and to take action based on their new understanding of the problems associated with migration. I think that meeting a man in a migrant shelter who had previously lived and worked in their own town of Bloomington and was planning to attempt to cross again helped to bring the issue home for them. They plan to stay connected with humanitarian efforts in Arizona, and they said that they would approach the local immigrant community with a different perspective. I also look forward to maintaining a relationship with these folks.

The following week, I helped to lead a trip with 13 students from a local private high school in Tucson and three adult chaperones. This trip was quite a contrast to the first one, but I was impressed by the maturity of these teenagers and their ability to formulate intelligent questions and process new information. Last week, one of my co-leaders and I attended a presentation at their school that the group gave about their experience to the entire student body, which was very rewarding. Their energy level and willingness to learn about and engage in what is happening in their own backyard inspired me, and I am hopeful about the potential in this group.

I have also celebrated several holidays in my new communities here in Tucson. Halloween was observed in the traditional ways, including carving pumpkins, dressing up for work as the sitcom character “Ugly Betty” (the subject of my senior research paper for my Hispanic Studies major!), and hosting our first party in the YAV house, complete with a bonfire, dancing, and ghoulish hors d’oeuvres. However, the big festivity that time of year in this part of the world is the Day of the Dead (November 1-2). In addition to completing the pilgrimage, I was also able participate in a beautiful ceremony facilitated by a Methodist divinity student who is interning at BorderLinks. In an adaptation of traditional Mexican rituals, we placed objects representing our own personal grief on an altar outside of the office, and we also remembered the hundreds of identified and unknown migrants who have died in the desert and the suffering of their families. Finally, I marched in the “All Souls Procession,” a Tucson tradition and a unique collective display of creative expression. Dressed in black and with skeleton-like face paint, we joined hundreds of people wearing huge homemade masks, manipulating intricate puppets, and riding on makeshift floats created out of shopping carts, bikes, and even trikes! I wished I had had the foresight to decorate my own three-wheeled contraption. Processors carried posters honoring deceased loved ones or promoting life-giving political causes, and at the end a large urn was filled with the hopes, offerings, and wishes for those who had passed, which were then burned in a communal act of mourning and release.

My first Thanksgiving away from home was bittersweet, as I wished I could have been present for gatherings both in North Carolina and Tennessee. However, I felt very fortunate to be with my adoptive YAV family, and good food was in no short supply. We joined Brandon, our site coordinator, for an extremely tasty potluck at his intentional community attended by over 50 people. It was a new experience to spend the holiday with families and singles from many walks of life, and we left stuffed. The next morning, I helped my roommate, Sarah, prepare for a traditional meal at Southside Presbyterian, the church where she works and many of us in the house attend regularly. Sarah works primarily with the Day Labor Program, which helps connect employers and workers, ensuring that both parties get a fair deal, and with the Shower Program, which provides local homeless with an opportunity to take a shower, drop off laundry, find new clothes, and get a hot cup of coffee and a nutritious meal twice a week. The meal was directed toward these two ministries, which share space at the church on early weekday mornings. Church members from Southside and other local congregations attended and provided the food, allowing for cross-class and cross-cultural fellowship.

I had such a positive experience sharing a meal with this community that I have since begun volunteering on Monday mornings at the Shower Program, helping to prepare and serve food. Both the Shower Program and the Day Labor Program emphasize internal leadership, and many of the volunteers that help run them are homeless or day laborers themselves. I treasure my mornings of cooking up large vats of hot chocolate, oatmeal, stew, and gravy at 6:00 a.m. with homeless men, Catholic sisters, fellow Southside members, and my roomie, and am beginning to form relationships with people who regularly attend these programs. I learn a lot from everyone involved, and I find that I enter the work week energized and with a sense of perspective. I am very grateful for this new part of my routine, which has helped me to step outside of my comfort zone and taught me a new way to live out my faith.

At the end of this week I will return to Chapel Hill for a ten-day visit, and am very excited about spending Christmas and New Years with family and friends. My first three and a half months in Tucson have been an incredible experience, but I am definitely ready for some time back in the Tarheel State. I look forward to seeing those who are in the area, and re-connecting with others even if it is not in person. This Advent season I feel very blessed to be a part of so many wonderful communities (new and old), and I would love to be caught up on your adventures.

Peace and blessings to you and yours during this holiday season,

Lilli

Please keep all Young Adult Volunteers and the communities they serve around the world in your prayers.

For information about serving as a Young Adult Volunteer, visit the YAV Web site.

If you'd like to support the Young Adult Volunteers with a financial gift please make tax deductible donations out to:

St Mark's Presbyterian Church
("YAV support" in memo line)
3809 E. 3rd Street
Tucson AZ, 85716