Week 3 - Raquel

Please allow me a moment to gush.

Southside Presbyterian Church has fast become one of my favorite locales in Tucson. My appreciation for Southside goes beyond my love for the hogan style architecture which delineates its campus from other structures in the surrounding neighborhood of South Tucson. While I love the rust colored adobe walls which ensconce the inner core of the church, I might just love the heavy splash of southwestern details which mark the church’s interior even more than it’s smoothly curved walls. For example, figures that look as though they could have been conjured up in the mind of a being from a much earlier time period appear to dance in the perforations which mark the light fixtures throughout the church. Even as the painstaking attention to detail which characterizes Southside’s interior and exterior design allures my artsy side, I am most intrigued by the incredible outreach programs which mark the church’s daily calendar.

The first thing that grabbed my attention when I visited Southside for the first time two weeks ago was the sign with an intense portrait of a dying Christ with the statement “Executions Have Always Been Wrong” emblazoned upon it. Pretty hardcore. In my meetings with the members of Southside over the past couple of weeks I have become increasingly impressed by the reality that Southside Presbyterian is far from an ordinary, run of the mill Christian church but rather puts into action the words of Christ found in the New Testament biblical book of Matthew in chapter 25 and verses 35 and 36 ‘For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; naked, and you clothed Me...’

I feel as though my experience at Southside has made and will continue to make an indelible mark on my notions of Christianity and furthermore the Christian experience.

Week 3 (Rachel)

Mexico seems like a lifetime ago. I have forgotten what it feels like to walk around the dusty colonia at night, the town alive with energy and music until the wee hours of the morning. I have forgotten that pulse that runs through the city, breathing vivacity into every corner of the sun scorched desert. I don’t hear that same rhythm now that I am back in Tucson. Just an hour away, it is troubling how these two places differ. It is troubling how much I have already forgotten. But I will never forget their faces.

We have been back in Tucson for a week now, our days filled with walks to the local coffee shop, working daily at our internships, grocery store runs and some therapeutic time with our missed laptops. Once back in the sanitized dormitory, there is little here to remind us of the place from which we have just returned.

Miguel and Alberto were such bright lights in the darkness that is Nogales. Such a violent city. Such precious children. Though their laughter is falling further into the recesses of my memory, growing fainter by the day, those niños still weigh heavily on my mind. They push me to continue on the tough days, the days when it seems as though nothing will ever change, the days when truly nothing seems to be on the horizon. I feel as though they will never leave me.

*Picture from José Castillo

Week 3 - Jose

This week has been an interesting time for me because I started the activities that I had planned to do for the rest of the summer. After two intense weeks of going around the communities of Tucson, Arizona and Nogales, Sonora, and learning more about their stories, their living conditions, and their needs, I returned to Tucson to focus on three activities that will hopefully be targeted to help people within these communities.

On Monday, I went to get everything ready so that I may start volunteering at El Rio Community Health Center next week. Here I will be shadowing several dentists and learning more about the career that I want to pursue. After talking with people for two weeks, I have realized that there great need of dental services, and so I hope my volunteer experience will allow me to contribute to the oral health of this community.

On Wednesday I taught CPR and Standard First Aid in English while on Friday I taught the same class in Spanish. Watching the film “Crossing Arizona” convinced me of the importance of knowing first aid not only in the desert but in the community. Therefore, not only does it make me happy to have the opportunity to teach this course during my stay in Arizona, it makes me really honored to be able to offer these courses to groups like The Samaritans and BorderLinks.

Moreover, I went on a desert run with The Samaritans on Tuesday and Thursday. Lucy and I woke up at 6:30AM to go walk in the desert, and I remember being really excited to encounter a migrant and offer them my help during our run. I even had a pre-planned out encounter: I would call out “Somos Samaritanos. Tenemos agua, comida y ayuda médica.” They would gladly approach us to receive our help that would save them from dying in the desert, and then we would interact as if we were old-time neighbors. None of this occurred! I did not meet anyone in the desert, and it seemed we had walked for 14 hours for nothing. I was kind of disappointed for this, but a fellow Samaritan brought up an important point: Not meeting a migrant can actually be a good thing because this means they do not need our help at the moment. They do not want to be seen, unless they need help; then, they will probably approach us. If you think about it, the simple act of convincing yourself to approach someone for free food and water is an embarrassment and public shame to yourself. As ironic as it may seem, it was really true. Besides, we had left gallons of water in some locations that we thought were migrant trails, and when we came back to check on the gallons of water, we saw that they were being consumed. This made us happy and gave us a sense of worth because our efforts were being appreciated one way or another (it is not necessary to receive national recognition for doing this). Thus, I came to conclude that our Samaritan effort was not futile; instead, it was a beneficial act – useful to both the migrants and our country. While they received help in the desert, something that should not be denied to any human being without regard to citizenship or residence status (as stated in US federal law), we were strengthening our relationship with Mexico. After all, they are our permanent neighbors, and therefore it is better late than never to build camaraderie. What I was doing at the desert was not a way to increase immigration to the US. It was a way to alleviate the current problems that exist in the border. I recognized that going in a Samaritan run was not going to solve the problem, but it was definitely going to assuage it before a policy that addresses this issue is enacted. I came with the mind set in providing humanitarian aid a very specific way, but I realized that plans do not always go as they were designed …and this is okay.

Week Three (Karen)

One of the many pullouts on our way down Mt. Lemmon

This week the theme of remembrance came back to me over and over again.  Returning to Tucson was great; we came back to running water, electricity, and technology.  But the moment I stepped out of the van last Saturday, I began to forget.  

I began to forget the faces, the stories, the emotions.  And I hate that it is happening. 

I wrote nightly the first week and photographed everyday the second week.  Yet, when I look back on everything, I feel different.  To use Sarah's word, I don't feel the immediacy.  I am afraid that these next five weeks will only soften my recollection and emotions. 

I do not want this to happen.  I do not want their faces, stories, and emotions to become trivial memories that I simply recall and retell.  I had hoped, and still do hope, that the experiences and relationships I gained would propel me in my internships, Derechos Humanos and Samaritans, and beyond.  But as of right now, I feel a sense of guilt for taking pieces of these individuals and trivializing them in my own mind. 

During our reflection atop Mt. Lemmon, I did find a sort of comfort in that everyone felt incapable of relaying their experiences to friends and family.  How do we share our experiences?  How do we phrase our thoughts and emotions?  How do we pass on the urgency?  Figuring out these questions will be crucial for when we return to Duke.  I do not want to come back as a bumbling fool standing on a soap box, but I want to come back as an impassioned messenger who really understands the lives and issues in the Borderlands. 

Week Three (Christina)

Week 3 was quite the transitioning week for us. As we returned to the United States and experienced the somewhat of a culture shock that came with it, many of us were torn about how we were feeling. We delved right in, however, and began orientation for the everyday life that will be the rest of our summer. It all felt so different than the jam-packed, emotionally draining BorderLinks delegation. As we started learning and doing at our internships, it was easy to forget some of the personal stories behind the work.

Then we traveled 9000 feet to the top of a mountain.  Yesterday, we took a group trip to the top of Mt. Lemmon. From the small village 1000 feet from the top to the 40 degree temperature difference, it was easy to forget about Tucson and the desert—to take a step back from the everyday life we had just gotten into. From the top of the mountain, everything below looked so different. Not only were the buildings of Tucson nearly invisible, but there were actually green trees and plants to be seen. Still a part of Pima County, how could this place exist amid such barren land? And it didn’t seem fair. We could come to this place to escape our normal, busy, everyday lives, while others must escape theirs by dying in the desert. We could enjoy the view, the weather, and each other without a care in the world.

As we sat atop Mt. Lemmon, we reflected back on our week. Many people expressed the difficulty in blogging each week—in trying to do justice to the everyday life of the people in this region without someone experiencing it first hand. In using the same words over and over, and the monotony of doing so. But when it all comes down to it, we can’t explain it; we can’t do it justice. You, the reader, are only getting a far off glimpse of what we are doing and feeling—a look from the top of the mountain.

Week 3 Viviana

I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, on the precipice of the unknown.

Our group traveled to the top of Mount Lemmon yesterday.

I'm looking over the edge, wishing I could dive into the vast quilt of mountain tops. I want to jump and let the sweet breeze carry me, closing my eyes and trusting that the air will hold me. A leap of faith. I'm scared. There is such power in these mountains, such possibility--small crevices of beauty to be found if I just jump. I see jagged edges, winding maze-like trails--fears in sight.

I want to be strong and take a step of courage. In Tucson. In the desert. In my heart.

Just a little push.

Week Three- Lucy

during my run with the Samaritans, i saw a dead cow, a road runner, jack rabbits, desert quail with babies, multiple lizards, deer scaling up a mountain, horned lizards, vultures, hawk, coyote, humming bird, a metallic blue and purple wren, buzzards...

the desert is amazing and filled with life.

i experienced the monsoon.

today is emo boy day.

a more complete post to come.

***

while on ruby road one day. i saw one of the most erry sights. Someone, a migrant, had neatly hung a complete set of clothing: underpants, undershirt, jeans, and collar shirt on to a tree. there was no garbage. there were no shoes or backpacks. he was at least 200 yards or more away for a distinct path and much further for a rest stop we found. what was he doing there? why did he bother to place forgotten clothes so neatly? why wasn't anyone else there?