Meet Your Neighbors: Phoenix

Every Monday I spend, at a minimum, about eight hours working in the Migrant Resource Center. I've written about the MRC before, so for those of you just joining this little party you'll have to go back and find the explanation of what it is for some of this to make sense. Back to business. The result of this extended shift at the MRC is that I get to meet a lot of migrants on Monday, and often spend most of Tuesday distracted by thoughts of where those people are and what they are doing.

As a result I have decided to start a series of posts called "Meet Your Neighbors," where I introduce some new American residents that I have met, both as a way to process some of my experiences, and to share a little bit of these people's lives with all of you.

This inaugural edition of "Meet Your Neighbors" is aimed primarily at residents of Phoenix, Arizona, as that is where Rosa is headed today, God willing. Although I will give the real destinations and place of origin for everyone that I talk about here, I will change all names to protect their privacy.

Rosa comes from a small town in southern Mexico in the state of Puebla. She has lived in the United States with her husband for the past eight years, and now resides in Phoenix. Rosa had returned to Mexico about three weeks ago in order to attend the funeral of her older brother, who had died while living and working in North Carolina. Of Rosa's four siblings, only one still lives in Mexico, and at a great distance from their original hometown.

Rosa was caught on the American side of the border yesterday afternoon, and deported back to Mexico late last night. This is fairly common for many migrants, as they tend to cross in the late afternoon or early evening, and are often caught within a short distance of the border. What is so unusual about Rosa is that she had been crossing the desert without a Coyote, the name the Mexicans use for a paid guide. Instead she was accompanied by her two year old son Roberto, her ten month old baby, and a friend from Phoenix.

Rosa was not able to leave her children in the U.S. with her husband because of his work schedule and the fact that she is still nursing a very young child. She had risked this crossing to bury a beloved brother, and was returning only three weeks after she had left because she was worried about losing her own job bussing plates at an all-you-can-eat buffet. As I write this 24 hours after I met her, it is possible that Rosa and her children are still alone in the desert, still walking north towards the car that will come to pick her up. It is possible that she has been caught and deported again. It is entirely possible that something very bad has happened to her or her children. I'm praying that they are home safe.

As she was leaving last night, after I had given her some blankets and jackets, hats and socks, burritos, water, and tea, I had this moment where it was all I could do not to start crying. I had this moment where all I could think of doing was to beg for forgiveness. To get down on the floor and ask her to forgive me, forgive us, for making her risk her life and her children's lives in the desert just so she can bus my plates at a greasy spoon. I wanted her to tell me that I was forgiven. I wanted her to tell me that they would be all right. I wanted her to know that if I could have it any other way, I would. I wanted to feel better somehow.

Ultimately I didn't say any of those things. I told her "Vaya con Dios," go with God. Frankly, God's all she's got right now.