Written by Natalia Hidalgo and Eleanor Williamson (Border Trip 2024)
"Our home is not a war zone" is what Yoli, an indigenous woman from Agua Prieta told us today after spending nearly all day with us, learning about our trip, and sharing her stories with us. It was the lesson she wishes for us to take back with us when we leave this border community. Douglas/Aqua Prieta is not a war zone nor a place full of explicit violence.
Often, the border wall is thought to be a place of immediate danger, violence, and conflict. While it symbolizes all those things, we have been met with nothing but love, hospitality, and hope.
Today was a deeply emotional and challenging day. We began by reflecting on our day yesterday, lamenting about "the stupidity of following a policy that doesn't work" and how deeply harmful emerging technology is proving to be for migrating people. The border wall is not only made up of a physical barrier but also a virtual one built out by high-tech cameras and motion detectors that span much farther than the border itself. This barrier has proven to be more deadly than the physical barbed-wire wall because it shows the border patrol exactly where the migrants are without any cover.
The barriers that are in place for migrants are deadly in several ways and one of the biggest ones is exposure. To avoid border patrol and meet their guides, migrants walk miles out of the way through the desert and oftentimes they don't make it. We had the honor of planting a cross for one of those migrants - Geri Barrios Olivares, a 22-year-old man who died from dehydration and exposure to the elements in February.
Geri crossed the border wall and managed to walk 30 miles into Arizona, just across Highway 80. This is where we planted a cross bearing his name, age, and date he was found. Jay took on the honor of caring for the cross from the moment we left for the ceremony until the cross was carefully and completely planted. They said "Carrying the cross today was one of the biggest honors I have been given. To be able to care and have responsibility for a symbol that represents the life of a man who was taken from us due to our nation's creations showed me to understand our part in these injustices, but also how I will take this experience and put it toward educating and fighting for change."
The ceremony that was performed at the site of the cross planting was extremely special as it combined the Christian faith with Indigenous practices. An indigenous and Mexican spiritual leader and elder, Gabriel, led us in a service that connected Geri both with the earth and with God. We began by smudging ourselves to remove any negative energy we carried into the space and then opened the channel between our hearts and minds with Holy Water. We called upon all the elements and animals of the earth to bear witness to Geri's remembrance and take him into their arms.
Sophie was designated as fire keeper for the ceremony, charged with keeping a small charcoal fire burning through the duration of our time honoring Geri. She reflected on the experience, saying "Being asked to be the fire keeper was an honor and a privilege. I found many similarities across a variety of religions and it was an incredible feeling to be able to learn and participate in a beautiful indigenous ceremony."
The service concluded with each of us placing an offering of a found artifact upon the cross and around the altar. Whether it was a jacket of another migrant who had passed through that area, a flower growing nearby, or a rock that caught the eye, it was important to leave these offerings for Geri to take into the next journey and to remind everyone who saw them that he was not forgotten nor did he travel alone.
It was incredibly special and heavy to be held in such a sacred space, honoring the life of someone who should not have died trying to find his way to a better life and a land of opportunity.
To give our minds a place to rest and reflect, we journeyed up a mountain in Coronado State Park to have a picnic and time to rest and enjoy our connections with the earth before we honored more migrant lives lost.
After a short break, we engaged in the second most challenging activity of the day: "Healing Our Borders Prayer Vigil." Every Tuesday evening since 2000, community members walk in a procession along the road carrying crosses each symbolizing the bodies of immigrants found as a result of crossing the border into the United States. The crosses would have the name of the person written on them, along with their date of death and, in some cases, their date of birth. As we walked in a single line, each one raised their cross in order and said the person's name aloud, followed by a powerful "Presente" (Present). Everybody would repeat "Presente" and the next person would then follow the same steps.
Some crosses had the words "No Identificado" (Not Identified) written on them. In this case, I struggled to picture a face, as the name is one of the first elements, if not the first one we tend to associate with someone's identity. I was heartbroken when carrying a cross symbolizing the life of a human whose name I could not tell. However, in these instances, our voices united in an even more powerful "Presente" that gave humanity back to the immigrant's life and refused to forget them. Our voices embraced the courage and resilience these individuals once had to leave their homes and families behind to find a better place. The memories were there with us and their search for a better opportunity was our mantra.
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