Cross-posted from the Standing on the Side of Love Blog
**Updated: the links below appear to be broken now! I am posting the text below and the gallery of pictures that were included in the posts**
Last August, the bodies of 72 Central and South American migrants were found in a shallow grave on a ranch in Tamaulipas, Mexico. The news of the massacre came as a shock to most people in the United States. However, the truth of the matter is that this type of extreme violence, carried out against migrants in transit through Mexico to the United States, is a fact of life for the approximately 400,000 migrants who cross the country each year.
Migrants in Mexico are victims of rape, assault, robbery, and extortion at the hands of corrupt officials, gang members, and local thieves. Women are among the most vulnerable. Amnesty International estimates that 6 out of every 10 female migrants who cross Mexico are raped at some point along their journey.
In the face of this crisis, human rights defenders from throughout Central and North America have organized Caravans for migrant rights entitled “Paso a Paso Hacia la Paz” (Step by Step Towards Peace) to bear witness and demand an end to the violence. The next caravan will depart from the Guatemala-Mexico border on Tuesday July 26th, and travel northwards to the Mexican state of Veracruz, an area that is currently seeing the highest levels of abuses against migrants in transit.
I am honored to have the opportunity to join this caravan as a U.S.-based migrant rights activist. While participating in the group activities and hearing testimony of people directly affected by the violence against migrants in Mexico, I will pay particular attention to the implications that this violence has for the immigrant rights struggle in the United States and for shared Unitarian Universalist pursuit of global justice. From July 26th through July 30th, I reflected on my experiences in daily posts on the Standing on the Side of Love blog. Check out the posts below:
Day 1 (Tecun Uman, Guatemala):
U.S. Immigration Enforcement Hits Home
Day 2 (Tapachula, Chiapas, Mexico):
Shining a Light on Immigrant Detention Center Abuses
Day 3 (Arriaga, Chiapas, Mexico):
The Graves in Arriaga
Day 4 (Ixtepec, Oaxaca, Mexico):
Women Along the Migrant Trail
Day 5 (Coatzacoalcos, Veracruz, Mexico):
Protesting Migrant Kidnappings in Coatzacoalcos
Day 6 (Tierra Blanca, Veracruz, Mexico):
Saying Goodbye and the Road Ahead
“The worst part is that, I have so many photos of him in
the house, every time I look at them all the pain comes rushing back.” And with
that, the tear begin to fill Alicia`s wide eyes. She sits on the edge of the
plastic lawn chair, clutching the photo of her son in her two hands. Alicia is
one of the hundreds of Central Americans participating in the migrant rights
Caravan Paso a Paso Hacia la Paz (Step by Step Towards Peace), demanding better
treatment for their migrant relatives who leave home searching for a brighter
future in the US. Alicia`s son left his home in San Marcos, Guatemala, for the
last time nearly nineteen months ago, but for the past eighteen months, she
hasn`t had any news of him. She has heard rumors that he got lost and
dehydrates in the desert of Texas. She worries that he may have been attacked
by gangs. And she has had dreams that he`s locked up in a detention center in
Arizona. Alicia lives every day with this uncertainty and fear, hoping against
hope that her son is alive and that he will return to her someday.
Still, things didn`t always go badly for Alicia`s son, Ricardo. When he first
emigrated to the US, in search of work opportunities to support his family, he
arrived safely to his destination – Boston, Massachusetts. Only 17 years old at
the time, he quickly adapted to life in the US, made lots of friends, and
developed a reputation as a skilled, hard-working laborer. He also started
going to school and was learning English. However, after seven years, Ricardo`s
time in the US was cut short when he was picked up driving without a license in
a traffic stop near Boston and turned into immigration authorities by the
police. After a few months in detention, he was sent back to Guatemala. But he
didn`t stay there long. He missed his life in the US so much, after just one
month of being back hom, he hit the road again. Back in the States, Ricardo go
back to work, but was picked up in another traffic stop just 8 months later.
This time, the police didn`t arrest him directly, but gave him a court date.
When he arrived in court, immigration was waiting for him. So in 2009, after
being deported twice, Ricardo tried for his third time to get back to his life
in the US. He called his mother to tell her he had made it to Mexico, but that
was the last she heard from him. Now, she struggles to deal with her worries,
with only her photos and hopes to sustain her.
What`s at the root of Alicia`s suffering? Clearly, the fact that Ricardo
journeyed multiple times along a dangerous migrant trail put him at an elevated
risk for getting lost, by getting detained, abused, kidnapped or even killed
along the way. But one could also point to a deeper cause of Ricardo`s multiple
migrations – the fact that he was turned in to migration authorities by local
police for a minor infraction and ultimately deported. Ricardo spent his
formative years in the US – he had made his life there. If he had never been
deported, he wouldn`t have felt the need to retake the risky journey to get
back to the US. If his case had never been channeled from local police to
immigration, he would have never been lost to his mother.
Stories like Ricardo`s are becoming increasingly common. In Boston and
throughout the US, the Secure Communities program has operationalized the
collaboration between local police and immigration authorities, in spite of the
demands by human rights advocates that immigration enforcement remain a purely
federal responsibility. As was the case with Ricardo, the majority of the deportations
that take place under Secure Communities are of people classified as
“non-criminals.” And yet it`s programs like these, and the increasing numbers
of deportations each year from the US, that are terrorizing families on both
sides of the border.
Here in Central America, the impact is painfully clear. As Alicia passes me her
son`s photo and says him name, a tear falls from her eye. “If only they`d give
him a chance,” she pleads. Unfortunately, in Ricardo`s case, even if this
chance came, it might still be too late.
If you have news of Ricardo Baldemar Córdova Figueroa,
last seen in Monterrey, Mexico, please communicate with the Ministry of Foreign
Relations of Guatemala http://www.minex.gob.gt/
It wasn´t your usual group of Central Americans arriving at the
immigrant detention center in Tapachula, Mexico. The center guards are used to
receiving buses of detainees awaiting deportation to their home countries, but
this group was comprised of family members of migrants, caravanning through
Mexico to protest the inhumane treatment their relatives receive during their
journey via Mexico to the US.
Standing together in front of the locked gates and armed guards, about 150
Central American and North American activists called upon Mexican immigration
authorities to clean up their act. “I was beaten by an immigration officer in
Huixtla, Chiapas, even though I had authorization to be in Mexico,” testified
one Honduran man. “ I was caught by immigration in northern Mexico, but they
turned me in to kidnappers, who help me and abused me for 4 months,” said a
Honduran woman from behind dark sunglasses to protect her identity.
“These are just some of the abuses,” emphasized Irineo
Mujica, a Mexican migrant rights activist, “Here in this detention center,
there are stories of rapes, mistreatment, exploitation. They charge migrants 4
times the price just to call their families. They hold them for months and
months – long past the authorized amount. They call this a detention center, but
just look at the bars on the windows. This is a prison!”
After Mr. Mujica, Father Heyman Vasquez, director of the
migrant shelter in Arriaga, Chiapas, spoke up, demanding that the United States
also be held accountable for the treatment of migrants in Mexico. “The US is
using Mexico to push its border further south!” he shouted. He then went on to
point out that the US uses its aid money and diplomatic pressure to encourage
Mexico to beef up its immigration enforcement, particularly along its Southern border.
Indeed, out of the 1.4 billion dollar aid package the US began providing to
Mexico through Plan Mérida (aka Plan Mexico) in 2008, 20% is designated for
immigration authorities. These funds go to things like buses for deportations,
more migration check point and detention centers, and arms and equipment for
Mexican authorities. Supposedly aimed to promote order, human rights defenders
are seeing that this same strong-handed enforcement has led to the situation of
abuses and extreme violence against migrants that they witness every day in
Mexico.
After the testimonies and speeches, the group moved forward and
formed a human chain directly in front of the gates. We chanted together “Stop
the kidnappings! Stop the rapes! Stop the abuse!” I moved with the group,
linking arms with the two Central American women at my sides, knowing that, as
a US citizen, the struggle to end violence against migrants in Mexico is just
as much my fight as theirs.
A
line of black crosses sticks out from this stretch of parched earth in Arriaga,
Mexico. They bear dates, written by hand in white paint, but no names. The
participants in the Caravan Step by Step towards Peace huddle around these
crosses, tired from the walk through the cemetery in the scorching sun.
“Here
lie the bodies of fallen migrants,” Father Heyman Vasquez, director of the
Arriaga migrant shelter tells us. He goes on to say a prayer for these unknown
migrants, reminding us to also pray for their family members, who are likely oblivious
to the death, still eagerly awaiting the return of their loved ones.
The
migrant plot in the cemetery is filling up. Some migrants meet their end
because the 300 kilometer walk from the Southern border to Arriaga through
inhospitable and oppressively hot terrain leaves them dehydrated, weakened, or
injured. Others are killed or mutilated while riding on the top of the wagons
of the infamous cargo train, which runs from Arriaga to the Northern and
provides a cheap (though very dangerous) ride to the northward-bound migrants.
Many migrants, poor and without the immigration authorization needed to pass
roadside checkpoints, decide to travel this way, riding on the tops or sides of
the boxcars and holding on for dear life. As the train races along, the risk of
falling and being caught in between the wheels of the train is ever-present. In
addition, violent assaults by robbers and corrupt police leave people with injuries,
of which some end up being fatal.
In
front of the unknown graves, Father Heyman tells us the story of a young man
who died from multiple stab wounds from an assault by the train tracks. He
arrived in the shelter in a critical state, but when they took him to the hospital,
there was nothing more that could be done. He died soon after.
Later on in the day, resting in the migrant shelter of
Ixtepec, I ask the recently-arrived migrants why they decide to take the trip,
in the face of all this danger. One young man tells me that he really wasn’t
aware of the situation in Mexico before making the trip. If he had known, he
wouldn’t have come. However, the rest of the men said that they were indeed
fully aware of the danger. They decided to make the trip, despite the risks,
because of the economic necessity of their families and the unemployment in
their home countries.
Looking at the faces of these migrants, tired and dusty
but still showing traces of hope, I begin to grasp the enormity of the decision
they make. For many of these migrants, from poor backgrounds and with the goal
of working in the US, this dangerous journey really is the best option they see
for their lives. The US gives a maximum of 5,000 green cards each year for low
skilled workers. This number pales in comparison to the over 1 million
immigrants, who enter unauthorized to the US each year. Temporary work visas
are primarily only available for highly skilled workers, but most migrants that
cross Mexico are seeking more basic jobs. And for the low skilled spots that
are available, the worker must already have connections and a job offer with a
US company in order to even have a chance of obtaining the work visa. People
who have family members with legal status in the US also have options for
immigrating legally. But for poor Central Americans with limited connections in
the US, the options are virtually nonexistent. Only a select few of workers manage
to obtain a visa, thereby avoiding the dangers of the journey through Mexico.
Meanwhile, the rest of the migrants continue climbing
aboard the train, trudging through the dusty heat, and risking their lives on
the trip through Mexico. And the little black crosses keep appearing in the
cemetery of Arriaga, in a dusty grave far away from home.
Doris, a Honduran woman participating in the Step by Step Towards Peace
Caravan, walks up the steps of the caravan bus and throws two fists in the air
for all to see. “Yeah!” she shouts, “We did it!” Everyone else on the bus
cheers. After over three years of not having any news of her daughter, she
finally has been given a clue. As the migrant rights caravan passed through
Arriaga, Chiapas, the local authorities informed her that they might know where
her daughter was. Doris went with them to fill out some paperwork and, when she
came back to join the rest of us on the bus, she was full of smiles.
But as I spoke with Doris later on in the evening, her eyes were full of worry.
“Well, they think she might be in a cantina working as a prostitute,” she tells
me. “I had to go with them to register a complaint so they can begin to
investigate the case.” As it turns out, Doris´s account of her daughter’s
disappearance is what tipped off the authorities to her possible situation.
When the daughter, Daynara called her mom soon after leaving from Honduras on
her way to the US in 2007, she told her that she had arrived in Tapachula and
was going to work there for a bit to earn more money to send home to her
mother. However, the money never arrived and when Doris called back the number
her daughter had given her the following February, the young woman´s voice had
changed. She sounded distant and sad. After that call, all communication was
lost, and the phone line Doris had been calling was cut off.
Unfortunately, the possibility that Daynara had been trafficked into commercial
sex work is a very real possibility. Central American woman in Mexico are
frequently tricked into this line of work. They are given a job as a waitress
in a bar, but then and are pressured into beginning to sell their bodies. In
other cases, the sheers desperation to earn money to survive and send to their
families drives women into the work. Even among migrant women who don’t stop an
work in Mexican cities, sexual exploitation, sexual assault and rape are
ever-present dangers along the migrant trail. According to Amnesty
International, 6 out of every 10 women who cross Mexico as a migrant is raped.
So while the news of her daughter brings Doris some relief and renewed hope,
the horror of these possibilities of what her daughter may have been through
race through her head. Like any mother, she wants to take care of her daughter,
protect her from harm. This desire is clear as she leans forward and tells me
in a soft voice, “Well if she´s had a rough time, I´ll do whatever I can to
take her home with me to Honduras.
“No more deaths! No more massacres! Everyone has a right
to migrate!” The crowd of over 400 Central American migrants, migrant family
members, and human rights activists marched through the streets of
Coatzacoalcos in the state of Veracruz, Mexico. Waving banners and singing
songs, the protesters made clear their demand that Mexican authorities take
definitive action to end the violence and abuse that is being carried out
against migrants in the country.
Migrants who travel through Mexico, headed northward and to the US along the
common migration routes, face a slew of dangers. Abuses, assault, robberies,
and rapes have become common parts of the trip for many migrants, as thieves,
gangs, and corrupt officials take advantage of the vulnerable situation of
migrants I the country in order to seek personal gain. The number of
kidnappings of migrants has grown particularly alarming in recent years, with
estimates from the Mexican Human Rights Commission (CNDH) running from 20,000
to 50,000 cases per year. Sometimes, these kidnappings end in death, such as
occurred in the massacre of 72 migrants in Tamaulipas last year.
In the face of all this violence, we might expect migrants and their families
to despair or lose hope. But the protest in the streets of Coatzacoalcos shone
a light on a different side of the story: the teenage migrant with a fist in
the air shouting “No more kidnappings!”; the line of migrants and Mexican
activists holding up a banner and jumping in unison to a chant; the committee
of Honduran mothers holding up photos of their sons and daughters and taking
turns shouting into the megaphone. The sun was scorching and the subject matter
was heavy, but the group was organized, and the participants gained energy and
power from one another to fight for their rights.
I was filled with energy as well. The event, which brought together
participants from throughout Central and North America, was hard proof of the
power that can be gained through transnational organizing. Having the
participation of organizations and individuals from throughout the region not
only increased our numbers, it moved the spirit of the march beyond the
national context and highlighted the need for comprehensive solutions for
justice in the region. Violence against migrants doesn`t just happen in Mexico
– it begins with the lack of opportunities and physical danger in migrants` own
countries, and revolves around the lack of legal options they have to pursue a
better future and provide for their families, whether in the US or at home. The
movement for justice for migrants and their families requires that activists,
organizations, and people directly affected by the current migration situation
come together to learn from one another`s perspectives, gain strength, and make
change.
It was in this spirit of transnational collaboration that another US activist
and I decided to contribute our unique voices as US citizens to the march. With
a thin-tipped marker and an old pen, we scratched out our messages onto colored
poster board: “No human being is illegal!” “United States: Respect the Rights
of Migrants.” Later on, as I marched down the street, holding my handmade
poster with two hands over my head, I received thumbs up and smiles from
migrants and family members who read the message. And though after a while my
arms began to tire from the weight of the sign, my step was sure and my voice
stayed strong as I chanted and marched alongside the rest of the participants,
all of us heading towards our common goal.
Representatives and members from the various migrant
rights organizations participating in the Step by Steps Towards Peace Caravan
march up four flights of steps to a large, air-conditioned auditorium in Tierra
Blanca, Veracruz, Mexico. We are all a bit tired after a week of traveling
northward through Mexico, sleeping on church floors, mounting street protests,
and holding press conferences, but we are excited for the meeting ahead of us.
Dr. Felipe Gonzalez, Chair of the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights
(IACHR) of the Organization of American States (OAS), has agreed to hear the
our testimony and recommendations regarding the rising number of kidnappings
and disappearances of migrants in Mexico.
The meeting begins and representatives from each of the
groups, as well as victims directly affected by violence in Mexico begin to
take turns sharing their stories. I am struck by the resilience of the people
involved in the Caravan. These are people with whom I´ve shared meals, swapped
stories, and laughed as silly jokes all throughout the past week. We have
bonded, and enjoyed many good times together. But at the same time, we are
dealing with very serious material. As a human rights defender from Guatemala
methodically lists the names of every disappeared person currently being sought
by family members on the Caravan, I watch as, one by one, my new friends take
turns standing up in silence with the photos of their missing loved ones
clutched in their hands.
At the end of the day, after we had all eaten and debriefed from the meeting, I
realize that it is time for me to say goodbye to my new friends and allies. Due
to other obligations, I knew from the start of the Caravan that I´d have to
depart early, though the other participants will continue the route through the
states of Veracruz and Puebla and will eventually finish in Mexico City on
August 2nd. Among a flurry of hugs and phone numbers exchanged, I
wish my Caravan-mates luck and thank them for all they have taught me. Carlos*,
one of the young men who has been traveling with us in search of a lost cousin,
tells me meekly as I shake his hand goodbye, “Maybe I´ll see you in Boston next
month.” Clearly, migration is always with us.
For Carlos´ sake, and for the sake of all the migrants who risk their lives
along the dangerous route northward, I hope against hope that the violence they
now face in Mexico is brought to an end. But hope is not enough. My experience
in the Caravan has taught me that we must join together across cultures and
countries, organize, and unify our voices. We must all take responsibility to
hold our own governments accountable and demand action to protect the human
rights of migrants. For people residing in the US and US citizens, this
includes:
4.
Recognizing
the role that US military and business interests have played in spurring
violence and economic problems in Central American countries. The US must
ensure that its foreign policy prioritizes human rights and sustainable
economic development in these countries.
Achieving true social justice for migrants and their
families throughout the Americas (and around the world, for that matter!) will
take vision, dedication, and hard work. But, as the name of the Caravan and the
example of its over 500 participants shows us, by simply coming together and
moving forward “step by step,” we can truly work towards peace.
*Name has been changed to protect identity
