A garbage truck stopped in front of my house just in time the other day. I had a plastic grocery bag filled with broken glass and dirt that I’d swept up from the street. The night before, someone busted out the window of an abandoned car that has been in our view for the last [...]
One of my job duties is translating letters we receive in English from sponsors in the U.S. and delivering them to the corresponding children in Mexico. Last week I opened up a hand written letter on pastel, floral stationary directed to a ten year-old girl in the program. By the look of the penmanship, the author, Mary Anne Johnson (name changed to protect the sponsor), appeared to be elderly. Most of the letter was straightforward stuff (talk of the weather, hope you’re studying hard in school, etc.), until three-quarters down the page when Mrs. Johnson wrote: “And thanks for not being one of those illegals.” [...]
I’ve almost put this in writing at all the wrong times—to let it all out and to gossip the dirt. It would have been a relief to rant and rave over the cyber-waves. Yet I have resisted because of my intense humility. Ha.
It’s no secret that the driving south of the border grays the lines. [...]
The Federales’ interrogation process was to the point — back-to-back question and statement: “What are you doing? Get in the back of the pickup!” I tried to answer that we were from the church down below, but the officer was definitely not interested in VBS. I responded as ordered and hopped into the bed of the Chevy. Little Carlos was ordered to do the same, but the kid’s knees were shaking too much to climb over the tailgate. At that moment a brother from the church came running out [...]
One evening a month, we have a meeting with the moms and kids at a little church in Granjas. The word granjas means farms. Although there are still remnants of farm-life in this community, the majority has filled up with homes of varying shapes and sizes. And although it rests on the border, it has remained dilapidated with Third World characteristics. Granjas is located approximately 14 miles east of the Pacific Ocean, exactly where Clinton’s Operation Gatekeeper border fence ends. The visual is fascinating[...]
Even before I arrived in Tijuana, I had the dream of checking out a maquiladora. These factories (called fabricas by the locals) employ many thousands of Mexican citizens. Big names like Toyota, Sony, Bose, Tyco and Phillips thrive on the (unlimited) cheap labor and close proximity to the border [...]
If only I had had the opportunity that these kids have…[silence] What I wouldn’t have done to have this.–Señora Ines
On Wednesday, Ines and I volunteered to clean up the backside of the school. We gathered palm branches, scrap wood, tumbleweeds, and lots of general garbage. Then Ines struck a match, quickly igniting the pile[...]
Saturday morning began drizzly. The pastor and I drove out to 10 de Mayo, eyes half shut. He had just flown in from Cancun in the middle of the night; I had woken up at 5:00 in the morning to drop my wife’s car off at the shop. The pastor’s late-80s, front-wheel drive Plymouth Voyager [...]
Or so goes the environmental saying of a coupla decades ago. Just north of the border, new freeways and widened boulevards are usually frowned upon. Strip malls are highly scrutinized, and housing developments encroaching forests are even worse.
As you might imagine, it’s different here. I love paved roads. In fact, I’ll drive out of my [...]
Conspiracy theories aside (as even Art Bell is a political conservative), the U.S. government offers its citizens a first-class ride to do whatever they dream. And if one is void of ambitions or down on his or her luck, the democracy offers a deluxe third-class that really ain’t too bad. It’s sort of like sitting [...]