Mexico Service Trip 2011: My experience: Casa Del Migrante

Like many others who have difficulty answering the question, "how was your trip?" I settle with answering, "amazing," because I have multiple stories and experiences I want to share but I know people can't understand the true emotions if they weren't there to feel it. For now, I will share one experience that drastically changed my view of border issues, the relationship between the United States and Mexico, United States policies and immigration.

One of the nights after working on the house our group had the chance to visit Casa Del Migrante, an immigration office located in Tijuana that takes individuals who have been recently deported from the United States. I personally had never visited Casa Del Migrante and had walked into this building only knowing that we were in a more dangerous part of town and that I was going to here stories of those who've been deported. We were lucky enough to meet with a man who explained the organization, what they do, and the individuals they encounter. This organization was specifically for men who had been deported and it provided shelter for up to 12 days. What struck me was that Casa Del Migrante was largely run by volunteers who would dedicate multiple hours of time to make sure that these men were able to be helped.

As we sat in a backroom the man wanted to get to know us and where we were coming from before he began telling us about Casa Del Migrante. We each went around the room, stating our name, where we were from and that we were in college. After, he welcomed us and began to share about the organization, its importance, and how they reach people in need. Casa Del Migrante serves men, however, they have other branches that serve women and children as well as teenagers. What bothered me the most during his talk was when he told us the stories of some of the men. For some, the first time stepping foot in Mexico is when they are sent back to Mexico by immigration officers. These men are at Casa Del Migrante and cannot speak Spanish and have no family they can contact for help because they've lived their entire lives in the United States. Knowing that men my age have been taken away from the only home they ever knew makes me sick. The conversation went on and as he wrapped up, his last statement stuck with me, "I hope one day we will all have I.Ds that say we are human," which made me take a step back and more fully realize the unjust generalizations made and the inequalities that exist within our country and between neighboring countries along the border.

We had the chance to leave the meeting room and speak with men staying at Casa Del Migrante. The man didn't want us to hear the stories second hand about the men, he wanted us to hear the stories first hand from those who live the life and have gone through the process. As we walked into the community room it looked as if the Posada (party) they had was just wrapping up. There were men sitting against the wall while others were sharing conversations. At first it was really awkward, 20 of us who can easily cross back to the United States looking for a conversation with these men who've been uprooted from what they thought to be home. Our group decided to break into smaller groups to ensure there was someone who could speak spanish in each group. My group began talking to three men who were very friendly. One man, however, declined to say how he ended up at Casa Del Migrante and left the conversation. Slowly, the conversation dwindled and the men walked away.

I decided that going up to these men in large groups wasn't working and I figured I could speak enough spanish to get by. Corbin, one of the group members, and I walked around the room and met a man, whose name I was unable to get. We began talking, which I found difficult because I didn't want to ask personal questions, yet I was very interested in knowing his story. Corbin asked questions and kept the conversation flowing while I attempted to translate english and spanish between the two. Slowly we began talking about what brought him to Casa Del Migrante. This man arrived at Casa Del Migrante two days prior to us visiting, he was from Los Angeles but currently lived in San Diego. He had a job in construction and was supporting his two children, Wendy (4) and Genesis (1) and his wife, who were still in San Diego. He explained to me that he was working at his job when immigration officers came and took him away. He was then deported and arrived at Casa Del Migrante soon after. He said that he was not a U.S. Citizen and neither was his wife, but both of their children were. It was very important for him to get back to his family because he was the only one that made money in the family and his wife had little job experience. He wanted to go home to the United States to protect his children and wife and he couldn't or he would face jail time. He knew he wasn't going to go back to the United States and his wife couldn't come to Mexico but his children would be able to visit since they were U.S. Citizens. I asked him if he had talked to his wife or his children since leaving and he had, explaining that he kept his phone and was able to talk to them everyday. He began showing us pictures, some of them were of him, others were of his two daughters. He was so excited to show Corbin and I pictures but I noticed when he began going through more of his pictures, a wave of emotion came over him and it grew silent. He started telling us how everytime he calls home his daughter asks, "daddy, where are you?" "how come you're not home?" "when are you coming home?" and that he couldn't explain to his 4 year old daughter that he would never be able to come home. He couldn't answer any of the questions she asked but he would tell her that he loved her and he would see her soon and she would just have to wait. He continued to flip through pictures and show us more pictures of his beautiful daughters, as any proud parent would, and at that moment he broke down. He began to cry as he flipped through his pictures, mumbling spanish words I couldn't entirely make out. The emotions that he showed rushed over Corbin and I and I could do nothing but stand and cry with him. I couldn't imagine raising a family, working hard to give them everything and have it all taken away in a matter of minutes because I don't "belong" in a country. He continued to cry and wipe his face repeating, "I don't know, I just want my daughters, but I just don't know. I don't know what's going to happen."

At that time our group was asked to return to the van because it was getting late. I felt so helpless, but Corbin and I tried to reassure him that everything would be alright, when honestly I had no idea what would happen. We said our good-byes and the man smiled, thanked us for listening to his story, and apologized for crying. I had so much to say to him but couldn't find the words or the ability to translate them into Spanish. Despite my lack of perfect Spanish the conversation this man offered to me has changed my life and my views on immigration and border issues. When you apply human emotions and stories to border and immigration issues and policies something changes. You realize how the border affects the humanity of millions of people and is more than a wall built between two countries. This wall signifies so much more than a few statements and reasons as to why this border was built . This border now symbolizes the splitting of friends, families, and neighbors to me. To this day I think of the man I met, the pictures of his daughters, and I pray that he will be happily reunited with his family.

A few days later we visited the border where Friendship park once existed. Below are a few pictures from the border.