One of the things I found most unusual and a bit eerie during my first week in the desert with No More Deaths was the complete absence of any migrants on the trails. Part of me was expecting to see people that I could give the water jugs and food I was carrying, to provide relief for them and also a lighter load for me. We did not see anyone, but it was so obvious people were and are traveling there.
One of the things that strikes me most when I go on patrols is what I see left behind. Empty water bottles. Rusty cans of tuna fish. Shirts. Pants. Backpacks. All of these are items that were dropped by the migrants as they continue on their way. They are a testimony to the struggle people face in their hellish ordeal. Imagine trying to cross a desert in temperatures that are in their 30s at best and 40s at worst. With a few water bottles and cans of tuna. Every pound wearing you down as you have to keep moving at a fast pace, tripping over rocks and being torn by thorns and cactuses, knowing that at any time you could be arrested and sent back and all of this was for nothing.
People discard things they don’t need anymore, not because they want to pollute everything around them but because there is no other way. Every tin of food and bottle of water consumed is less weight to carry, but also one less bit of nourishment in what is a terrible and difficult journey.
Experienced volunteers tell us that where there are belongings left behind, there are probably migrants. We yell things like “Somos amigos. Tenemos agua, comida. No necessito de miedo, tenemos ayuda”- “we are friends. We have water, food. No need to be afraid, we have help”. Usually a woman in our group will do the callout, because women’s voices I have been told sound less intimidating to people who are exhausted and hurting and terrified of being caught. Of course, there is no way to tell if we can be trusted. So often no one comes out. Sometimes we hear rustling and what sounds like people but there is no way of knowing. In the past, migrants have came out of caves, thickets, from behind rocks to other groups. No one came to us, so we leave our water and food packs and some clothing and move on.
It is extremely distressing how people are forced into a situation where they have to hide themselves like animals from a hunter. How they cannot afford to trust anybody. How they must remain in hiding, in fear. They have not done anything wrong to anybody, and yet are pushed into a situation where they are criminals for crossing a borderline to be exploited for wages that are often less than minimum and work that is usually less than safe, so their families back home can eat.
*Btw I realize that “The Hills Have Eyes” is also the name of a horror movie. One day about a year and a half ago I was bored out of my mind and had nothing better to do so I wasted an hour and a half watching it. If watching a gore filled flick about zombie like monsters trying to kill and eat a family of vacationers in a desert somewhere at a former nuclear testing groundsite in New Mexico is your idea of a good time, enjoy. If this type of genre isn’t your thing or you have anything else that you could, should, want to do or are thinking of doing and have the most remote possibility of accomplishing it, I’d suggest doing something else with your time.
Some of the things you see on most trails migrants travel.
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