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To follow up with my trip to the Lucheria train yards, today I went to the Ecatepec migrant safe house and spoke to a handful of guys going north. All but one were from Honduras and the casa's sign-in book showed that 80% of all the migrants that come through are from Honduras. Then Nicaragua, then El Salvador, then Mexico and Guatemala. I don't know if that's a reflection of all northern migration these days, or just specific to this route. But they were all nice kids, almost sweet...innocent. Many didn't know how they were getting over the border once they got there. One guy's family prearranged with a coyote, one guy's brother is "bringing him in his car"—whatever that means—and one guy seems to think he can just drive over with his driver's license, even though he doesn't actually have it with him. All in all, there was very little knowledge and planning for a pretty darn big trip. But amazingly, most migrants do make it one way or another. Some get robbed or much worse along the way. A lot get caught after crossing the border, but as long as they don't have criminal record, they are usually held in detention for a little while and eventually dumped just over the border. This is how the U.S. deals with the "immigration problem". (Sometimes the U.S. makes the effort to release them far from where they were caught and if a migrant had crossed with his family, sometimes they will intentionally release members in towns many miles apart. "B's" immigration policy makes all kinds of sense in a lot of ways.) So some migrants need to make a few attempts, but in general, most make it. Many though don't have the resources, the knowledge or the balls to make a new attempt after their initial plans don't work. These are a whole pool people the safe houses are helping, too. And many have been separated from the people they came up north with and have spent all the money they had on their failed attempt to cross. So you're 2,000+ miles from your home country, by yourself, very tired, have no ID, are broke, have no idea how to get home and in a relatively violent country that could care less about your well-being. And you're a woman.
What is it about cemeteries that I love so much?
The peace and quiet for one, I know. The opportunity to let my thoughts wander without any chance of disruption. But also thoughts of all the energy spent, the paths pursued, the love shared and love lost, the happiness, sadness, hope, and anger all spent and now gone, meaningless to all existence.
"The secret to life is enjoying the passing of time" So said James Taylor in one of his sweetest songs. I remember playing it for my life's true love (let's say "M") many years ago thinking it would reveal something of me I thought needed sharing. The problem was is that I wasn't able to let that idea really drive me. And so I was sharing something of me, that wasn't really of me. It was what I wanted to be of me.
Here's one of the many disgusting things about American culture: we are all driven to continually SEARCH. Ideally, it would be the search for the newest gadget, shiny object, consumerized technological advancement, or whatever purchasable thing that represented the happiness we all so dearly seek. (That you DO seek!) So you work, work, work to save money, or better, to earn credit and you buy, buy, buy. Whew. I must be happy now!
And the few who are even aware of the extent that everything around us was promoting this approach to life, can only go so far in keeping it at bay—keeping it from influencing how we see everything, the jobs we take, the friends we have, all the the decisions we make, and especially the love we let slip away for the search that will never be satisfied. Damn it.
I think often—too often really—about the regrets I'll have on my death bed. At that moment, will everything be clear? Is there some spiritual confluence that comes about in us that clarifies the silly pursuits we had, and (now) obvious paths we were blind to?
At that moment, will we learn the secret to life?
Is it really happening? Do we actually have a President that is doing things to make our country more rational and fair? I've been wondering since before "B" was in office if it was possible to "go backwards" after a country has gone down a certain path. More specifically, would the policy makers of our country, with a government so seemingly entrenched in its ways change policy and laws to take power from themselves and give it back to the populous? Even Bill Clinton worked within the existing framework that previous administrations layed out.
But President Obama, in just four days, is actually doing just this.
A few years ago when I was helping (man) a 24-hour vigil in front of the California offices of Nancy Pelosi as a statement against the Iraqi invasion, a woman came up to me crying and saying she's lost all hope. Without thinking—as it is not in my character to be positive—I said no matter what the situation, ever, one cannot lose hope. Once you do, you allow the "evil" forces do have their way. I have to say that during this past administration, I lost hope in our democracy. I really thought my country went so far down a corrupt path of greed and fear that no President, no matter how inspired he/she may be, could possibly move such a vast, entrenched system very much. There are just too many people involved who have a stake—and a say—to allow the kind of change necessary to bring our democracy back in line with the intent of our amazingly fair-minded forefathers. I believed we've past the point of no return.
It's way too early to make a final judgement on Obama. This administration is so new and for a number of situational reasons, the Senate and House are giving him a lot of leeway. The inevitable attacks by Republicans, and even Democrats (I love that about them) will attempt to divert and force his hand in ways no one can foresee. Anyone who follows US politics knows the script. Big business still has their greedy tentacles all through the halls of both houses.
But for now: Gobama!
Things turned out fairly well at the train yard I visited yesterday. The cigarettes, soda and water we brought were a big hit. I went to the yard with two Mexicanos—one I met in San Francisco four months ago—and two of the migrants spoke english, so trust was easily earned through the conversations we had. These guys are just fairly normal people but from fucked up towns and countries. They simply want to earn enough money to support their wives or girlfriends and kids. I met a guy, similar to Pedro from Nogales, who's been living in NY for 15 years. Has a girlfriend and three kids he wants to get back to. He's gainfully employed. After being deported, he went back down to Honduras to visit his family, and walked, bused and freight train-hopped the 1400 miles up to Mexico City to the train yard where we met today. He's planning on crossing the Rio Grande in Texas so he won't need to pay a coyote. He told some pretty nasty stories about what the Maras—Mexican gangs that troll the train tracks—do to some of the migrants if they hear they have family up north (who of course would have money for a ransom). Today, in broad daylight, the only potential threat was from the train guards. Depending on what freight carrier is pulling the long line of trains coming through at a particular time, they either strictly enforce keeping migrants off, or watch as they all jump on. The whole thing is clearly understood by all. The Mexican freight companies allow the jumpers because, I was told, they don't want anyone killed while trying to jump aboard. Whereas the American-owned carriers absolutely do not want free loaders.
During the conversations we had running before "the" train was due to pass through, there was a brief scare as a few guys started yelling and pointing in the direction of where we parked the car we brought. Just as we all looked up, we saw a tow truck leaving with our car! The two guys I came with ran after it and amazingly caught up to him, although the driver probably slowed down in anticipation of the bribe he certainly was expecting. This being Mexico, we got our car back for $300 pesos—$23 US today.
As far as risk, well, of the maybe 40 or 50 migrants who had gathered to jump about the 14:00, every single one made it, including the one woman I saw. Although there were a few instances where a small group all decided they wanted to be in a certain car so the run and jump onto the small steel ladder got a bit rough. In fact, I saw one guy in such a clump fall, but refuse to let go of the bottom run of the ladder. He was dragged for a little bit along the rocky ground underneath and seeing how close his dangling legs were to the huge steel wheels, I ghasped in fear for him. He managed to pull himself up, but you could totally see how so many loose legs and arms every year. Most jump aboard trains in the middle of the night, so you have cold, moisture and darkness mixing with exhaustion, clamoring groups and fear of gangs to make for a very risky jump indeed. But in broad daylight, with a bit of time to consider your "spot", it doesn't seem terribly risky. At least from a bystander's viewpoint at this particular train yard.
Next I'm going to visit a few of the many safe houses that care for such injured migrants as they heal and consider their whole life, now with almost no hope for any kind of productive future.
Well the wait is over. Obama is in. But more important is that Bush is out. He's now nothing more than another stupid, selfish hick in Texas where he belongs. (Sorry, Austin.) He should never have left. The American people should be ashamed of themselves for all the destruction we gave him the opportunity to commit.
The big question now is, have we become so used to being catered to—to believing that every possible whim we could ever have should be satiated as soon as possible—that we can't see any other way of living? That no matter how persuasive President Obama's calls for personal responsibility, we cannot do more than shake our heads in agreement, then turn the channel to catch the latest episode of American Idol, not even considering the first mental steps to enact change within ourselves?
And even if we do, will it only be a matter of time when complacency and laziness once again take over and our eyes glaze with thoughts of the new iPod, a bigger LCD TV and the newest phone that has even more features we'll never use but absolutely need?
Can we actually make the sacrifices necessary to collectively change the meaning of "success" in the U.S. to include personal health, well being for others, sustainability of our planet and actual integrity? Because only then will any change Obama tries to bring about have a chance at sticking. As always, it's up to all of us individually, in the decisions we make every day.
Given that, I'm not hopeful.
Tomorrow I leave for Mexico City. The big D.F. I'm very excited because I found a Quaker house to stay at. I know about the Quakers from when I was with the Tikkun Community in San Francisco. They had a meeting house we often had gathers in, but the people who officially were Quakers were what was most memorable. No, they didn't make furniture or quilts, but to a person, they were gentle, genuinely concerned, bright people who were comitted to social change and efforts to make peace. We organized a 24-hour vigil outside of Nancy Pelosi's office "until the war was over" and some Quakers were eager volunteers. We actually connected with quite a few city workers and pedestrians doing that. When people realize you're sitting out on the cold sidewalk nonstop for a cause, they strongly consider what point you are trying to make, whether they agree or disagree. (Just for the record, sitting out on the cold sidewalk by yourself overnight sucks big time. Time goes by veeeery slowly.)
Anyway, the Quakers are good people.
From I've learned so far, over in D.F.m they're all about social change and host regular events—seems like something every night. Apparently, they are a notable place for educcators and activists to stay who come through MExico City, so I'm hoping to make some good contacts for organizations to shoot for. They even put out a regular newsletter on what social activities are going on. The last issue discussed illegal migrants traveling north, which happens to be a story I'm working on. I understand there's a train yard just north of D.F. where many migrants who've come from points south hop a train to the border. A perfect—no I mean—perfect—place to get shots, talk to migrants, and add depth to my story. (What I have so far can be seen at http://allencraigphotography.com/Photo_Galleries/Pages/Crossing_the_US-MEX_Border.html )
Finally, some movement. I'm getting very impatient here in Guadalajara without being able to take a "next step".
I have many photos from recent shoots, but I haven't had time to go through them all.
This is one of the things I'm realizing is very common in Mexico, although if I wasn't so into dilapidated things I'd find it rather sad: A somewhat sizable kiddie amusement park, just left as it was to collect dust, dirt and rust. I keep seeing them. In fact, I've only come across one that was in use. The worn, chipped colors are just gorgeous, and I guess it's possible that these aren't "abandoned", but it's just off-season or something. I mean, would they really leave all that fun just sitting there?
Since I was a kid I've been intrigued by environments, usually quiet, removed from their usual state, usually loud and active. My first recognition of this was in 6th grade, when I wrote a report on the handball courts in between my school and my home. I walked to school every day and sometimes I would walk home around dusk, and as I would pass through the park and take note of the silence, the chill, the long shadows, and the wind blowing leaves across the empty courts, now devoid of the people, noise, daytime energy that usually filled out the scene. On the weekends I would be there with many friends, challenging other teams for court time. But at night, by myself, the courts might as well have been on another planet. Being there alone on a regular basis, I felt like I formed my own private relationship with the park and those handball courts. So that on the weekends, the courts and I shared the knowledge that for today, here in the bright light, we were sharing each other with everyone else. We both knew, I imagined, that come Monday evening we'd be back together again, sharing our stories and thoughts with just each other.
This is why I dislike hostels: There is always a smiley little pair who are up earlier than you and that couldn't possibly imagine that the door they are slamming, or the why-so-loud conversation they are enthusiastically having couldn't possible be a disturbance to anyone one else. And it's always Europeans, always. Italians, Germans, and don't even get me started on the French. I've had the honor of sharing a hostel with French folks—they're sure it would be an honor if you were to be woken up by their insightful, witty and certainly relevant conversation. I'm being sarcastic of course because in fact, people like this, no matter where they were raised (god knows the U.S. is full of them) don't give a second thought to how their actions might affect anyone. Apparently, they've lived for 22, 23, even 30 years and and simply must have NEVER had they experience where they've seen their actions have a detrimental effect on anyone else. So I sheepishly admit that I'm being too hard on them because how would they know that slamming doors in an otherwise silent environment where you know there are other people who are still asleep only feet from you would be disruptive?
I went to small nearby town yesterday with gentleman I met while looking for a place to live. He's a really nice guy and speaks a bit of English. He has a wife and three kids and is a dentist. He also spends a fair amount of time very inefficiently selling cell phone accessories, which is why we were driving to another town. I was tagging along a sales run. I would think that a dentist should be doing well enough to not need to scramble around selling cell phone accessories, so I started to ask him about his dentistry business. Here is some information he gave me:
- he has four patients right now—all of them friends or relatives.
- he *thinks* he would like more patients.
- all his patients are people he knows, because,
- he's afraid that if he takes on strangers, he might get AIDS from them. (true story), subsequently,
- he has never marketed his business.
- his dentist office is in his home, partly because,
- as long as you don't have an "office" you don't need insurance in Mexico
- there are many other dentists on the same street.
I was pretty anxious to start the questioning at any of a number of topics. But I know enough to know there are many ways we in the U.S. look at business—assumptions that we know almost every one else has in the States—that Mexicans simply do not have. The drive to be profitable is a huge thing in the States, and it's assumed everyone has that drive and if not, well why the hell not? So I've already learned that many, many Mexicans open a business, but not for profit. More for pride, community and probably so they have something to do with themselves. But what I still don't understand is the almost intentional decisions they make that keep their businesses from being profitable. As if being profitable changes the dynamic in such a way to make the business a completely different thing. Is it the effort involved? Is it just a lack of education or knowledge how to operate profitably? Or is it laziness? Mexican have bills to pay, too. Their kids need schoolbooks, the car needs gas. God knows the stucco needs repairing and repainting. Or maybe, just maybe, once their overhead is covered, and they make enough to buy clothes and feed themselves, they're... happy.
Anyway, I was gingerly trying to bring up ideas of easy marketing to see how he would respond. But it seems that without the common ground of the desire of profitability, our conversations simply could not move forward.
So bringing it back to myself (finally, right?) I wondered if people in general here are uncomfortable with the idea of profitability. So that if they chose to go to a dentist, or doctor and the office was well-run and clean and the scheduling tight, would they be turned off? Because of the cultural lack of understanding of profitability in business, would they feel they were treated poorly or with disrespect?
And if so, does that mean that any well-intentioned gringo who comes here and tries to go into business for himself will hit immediate limitations because of how offputting an efficient and thereby profitable business would seem?
Just wondering.
Btw, when we got to Santa Lucia, the guy whos storefront we were supposed to go to wasn't even there, nor was his store open. No phone calls were ever made, or any definite schedule confirmed. See what I mean?
We ended up walking around a bit and I got some shooting in. On the way back, we stopped by a pickup truck and bought these plant roots that looked a lot like ginger pulled right out of the group somewhere nearby. They cut them up and put them in a spicy sauce (in a bag of course, everything goes in just a bag) and you eat them raw. They did not look like they would be good at all, but the were fairly soft and yummy. Now if I can only remember what they were called.
Revueltos is scrambled.
Important to remember, otherwise you may get your breakfast eggs estallados. Not horrible, unless it's important for you to deny all the cholesterol in eggs, signified by the creamy, yellow yoke that otherwise would be spilling all over your plate, forcing you to decide: smear on to your toast, or work around to eat the remaining, non cholesterolly part of the eggs.
