The second largest group of people who seek asylum on the southern border now are Brazilians. And it seems that they are booked in and out of detention much faster than anyone else. I'm not really sure why that is...my guess is that Border and Customs don't really have the resources to deal with Portuguese speakers, but I could be wrong. At least 60% of the people coming through the last few days have been Brazilian.
When I got back, I helped out with lunch. Meals are usually provided by church groups, and the most lovely group was there today.
We talked about El Paso and their work with Annunciation House. The church opened up their doors to migrants when there was a large influx about a year ago, before CDR opened. They asked me why I came, and what my impressions were. One woman, Leticia, said that she believed that it didn't really matter why people were coming- she just saw the need and wanted to help.
I later helped with intake- a nerve wracking undertaking with all of the Portuguese speakers! But we got through it. It was nice to genuinely say "bienvenidos" or "bem-vinda" to people who probably hadn't heard it before now. Seeing families with small children certainly makes you have hope for the American dream.
After work, my friend Alison and I went on a little trip to the Mission trail, a road with three missions along it. The first one is the oldest- Old Ysleta Mission was built in 1682 by the Tigua people, who had fled from New Mexico with the Spanish after not fighting with Pueblo people in the Pueblo Revolt of 1680. The mission is the oldest operating parish in Texas. Interestingly, it used to be on the south side of the Rio Grande, and as the flow of the Rio Grande is the official border of the US and Mexico, it used to be in Mexico. In 1829, a major flood changed the course of the Rio Grande, and now it is in the US.
We moved on to Saint Elizario, a rural town that feels not at all like the United States. In fact, upon arriving, our phones sent us messages welcoming us to Mexico. There were teenagers playing guitar in the otherwise quiet plaza dotted with green iron benches. Another group of teens revved their motorcycles around the square. Stray dogs ran up to our car.
We parked next to the mission and let ourselves in. The heavy wooden doors and white stucco adobe seemed like out of a storybook- and so did the inside, with colorful ceiling tiles and solid wood pews and late afternoon light streaming in.
We walked around the town a bit, read a bunch of facts, and saw this beautiful half face horse.
Realizing we were close to the border, we embarked to see it. We navigated through some winding small town roads to the border, and it was easy to see. The fence is huge.
We've heard stories of people trying to pass over the fence using ladders from coyotes and falling terribly. I can see why- the fall would be pretty nasty, but the fence is short enough to risk it if you were really desperate.
The idea of the border wall has become so normalized-if you look at maps of the border, much of it has some kind of fence These "big beautiful walls" don't come cheap, and it's hard to imagine the cost/benefit analysis ends up in their favor. Does the wall actually stop people, or is necessity the mother of invention? Do people just find other ways to cross thee frontera? It seems that they do.
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