Today we learned that Search is probably not my calling. For four hours we drove along beautiful vistas of rolling hills, and switchback mountain roads with erosion and without guardrails. As we drove it was my job to scan the terrain on the right side of the truck, looking for signs of migrant activity. If we found water bottles, clothing or backpacks it might be a sign somebody was nearby who could use our help.
The back of the truck was packed full of supplies: water, food, blankets, socks. Up front we had devices that could track us in the desert when we were out of range of cell towers, so if we found someone who needed medical care we could signal 911. The most important resources of all were up front too: Kathy, who is an expert at navigating the rough roads, and Jane, who has eagle eyes for finding water bottles in the dirt.
We didn't encounter any people in need in the desert today. In fact Samaritans have been generally finding fewer people while out on Search. One theory is most of the immigrants these days are seeking asylum, so they are trying to find Border Patrol rather than hiding from them. (More on asylum in a later post.) But we saw at least seven Border Patrol trucks, and so of course the increased presence of BP throughout the region may also explain why Samaritans are finding fewer immigrants: BP is picking them up sooner, or acting as a deterrent in these areas, pushing people into even more dangerous terrain.
We did find some signs of migrants; three black water bottles, the color chosen so they are less likely to reflect light.
Two were in particularly good shape, and we couldn't help but speculate why they had been abandoned. When Border Patrol apprehends someone they can't take anything with them, so maybe people were forced to leave the bottles behind. Or maybe someone was getting so exhausted in the crossing they let go of their belongings one by one, ending with an empty water jug.
It is hard to imagine anyone successfully crossing these miles of desert. The mountains are so bare and high, the hills roll on and on, even in the winter the sun is fierce. And there is a "quaint" saying here: In the desert everything bites, stings, sticks or poisons you. I picture somebody climbing to the top of one mass just to find a hundred more ahead, each one a collection of cactus bristles and rattlesnake holes. For the last few days we've been challenged to think about what desperation would motivate someone to leave their family, their community, their country. Today I kept thinking about the strength and resilience and courage needed to cross this desert.
And the many who never make it. Artist Alvaro Encisco is working on making a cross for everyone who has died in the Sonoran desert. He has a lot of work to do; the County's Medical Examiner has given him a map detailing 3,000 sites where bodies or remains have been found since 2001. The heartbreaking shrine in the photo marks the place
where a baby was born and died in 2005. The crosses are powerful reminders of why Samaritans do this work, of lives tragically lost, of desperation and courage sending people far from home.
And I can't even handle Search. Staring intently at the roadside of a moving vehicle on a rough road made me carsick. There was no way I was going to stop or say anything, considering what people in the desert are dealing with. But it's probably good I'm only going on Search once this week. Then again, maybe the nausea wasn't just from the bumpy ride.
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