CPTnet
1 October 2005

ARIZONA/SONORA REFLECTION: Crossing sides

by Sarah MacDonald

There is nothing natural about the US-Mexico border in Arizona/Sonora. No
river or mountain range divides the two countries here--just miles of fences
and walls.

My second morning here, I went jogging five blocks south until a chain-link
fence blocked my path. Behind the fence stretched a deep gully several
yards wide, then a high metal barrier. Through the barrier's slats I could
see small trees, buildings, cars driving west. Startled, I realized,
"That's Mexico!" This political fence slices in half what might otherwise be
a single neighborhood.

Away from the cities, border-marking barriers are less substantial. A
barbed-wire fence cuts through the desert as casually as if it separated the
land of two ranchers, instead of two nations. But nothing is casual in how
the US Border Patrol strenuously guards this national boundary: armed
agents, ATVs, floodlights, checkpoints, sensors, surveillance equipment--a
shocking plethora of resources devoted to "securing" the border.

Crossing the border is similarly expensive, but the cost is measured in
human lives. Since 1994, over 3000 bodies have been found in the desert.
Even those migrants who do survive the crossing pay heavily: large fees to
coyote guides, the trauma of exploitation, rape or theft, desert-induced
dehydration and heat fatigue, the blisters and sprains resulting from days
of walking rough terrain.

Yet, while the US-Mexico border itself seems unnatural, the human propensity
to draw boundaries and sharply demarcate two sides is natural. I do this
myself. As a CPTer committed to violence reduction, I'd like to know
clearly who are my "friends" and my "enemies." Which side do I stand with,
and which against? But I'm learning it's not necessarily that simple.

One day my colleague Scott and I encountered two Border Patrol agents in the
desert. At first the men were wary of our questions, and my heart was
closed toward them, especially when they described their job as keeping out
"terrorists." But as Scott engaged them in conversation, the agents began
to share their pain at finding bodies in the desert, their frustration with
having to return migrants to Mexico, only to know most of those migrants
will try to cross again. One of them acknowledged the need for worker visas
so that "the 90% of migrants who are decent people, just coming to earn a
living, can have a legal way to cross."

The other concluded, "Ultimately, human life matters a lot more than borders
or politics."

"Well, we believe that," Scott said. "It's why we do this work."

"You gotta keep believing that," the agent urged. "The work you're doing is
admirable."

I left the conversation realizing these guys are not the enemy. Life on the
border is more complex than I thought. The "sides" are not as clear as a
fence cutting through the desert. I left praying, "Tell me again,
Jesus--who is my neighbor?"