Jumping the Freight

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.