My last day on the border, Randy Mayer graciously led two of us on a migrant memorial
walk. In a hike of about 1.5 hours, we visited four memorial sites where people died crossing the desert.
All of their identities are still unknown.
Crosses mark these are places where human remains were found - rarely is a whole body discovered, due to the animal activity in the desert. Some crosses are plain white pipe. Others were made by artist Alvaro Encisco, as mentioned in the blog entry on Search. He makes the decorative crosses out of wood. If you look closely you can see a red metal circle in the middle. I saw the dots on necklaces as well. They represent the red dots on the map of the county's medical examiner, showing where human remains have been found.
Many of the crosses bear the label "Desconocido," meaning Unknown. The remains found
in these spots have not been identified. Family members don't know what happened to these travelers. A few organizations like the Colibri Center work to identify those who have died through personal items left behind and DNA.
The sites we visited were all discovered during 2009. That was a particularly rough year in the desert, and that time is what motivated many volunteers to get involved in life-saving practices like Search and Water Drops.
At each site we shared a reflection, often poetry, including some written by a Samaritan's volunteer. At the first site we came to, we read a hymn that had actually been found on a piece of paper with the remains. The remains were found in 2009; the paper is dated Oct. 30, 2005. My new friend Rita read the Spanish, and I read what was offered as an English translation.
Hoy he vuelto by Cesareo Gabarain
Cuántas veces siendo niño te recé
con mis besos te decía que te amaba
Poco a poco con el tiempo, olvidándome de Ti
por caminos que se alejan me perdí
Hoy he vuelto, Madre, a recordar
cuántas cosas dije ante tu altar
y al rezarte puedo comprender
que una Madre no se cansa de esperar
Al regreso, me encendías una luz
sonriendo desde lejos me esperabas
En la mesa, la comida aún caliente y el mantel
y tu abrazo en mi alegría de volver
Aunque el hijo se alejara del hogar
una madre siempre espera su regreso
Que el regalo más hermoso que a los hijos da el Señor
es su madre y el milagro de su amor
Today I Returned
Many times as a child I prayed to you.
With my kisses I told you that I loved you.
Little by little, in time, I left you via roads
that led away from you and I lost you.
Today, Mother, I again remember
the many things I said before your shrine
and when I pray to you I can understand
that a mother never tires of waiting nor never gives up hoping.
Returning to this sweaty day,
smiling from afar, you wait for me,
The table set with tablecloth, the food still warm,
and you hug me in your joy at my return.
Even though the child leaves his home,
a mother always awaits his return.
What is a more beautiful gift than the children of the Father,
it is the mother and the miracle of her love.
I kept thinking of a young man - like my own sons in many ways - missing his mother, praying to Mary, as his life slipped away.
Many of the crosses have little offerings decorating them. I've seen memorial spots with small colorful rugs, little statues, toys, bullets, beads, bright plastic flowers. One that drew my attention on this walk was identified as marking where the remains of a teen
were found. Fashionable sunglasses perch atop the cross.
At another site, we were invited to read a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye. I find her poetry powerful; we've read some in worship at UCCB. But I hadn't heard this one.
Red Brocade by Naomi Shihab Nye
The Arabs used to say, When a stranger appears at your door, feed him for three days before asking who he is, where he’s come from, where he’s headed. That way, he’ll have strength enough to answer. Or, by then you’ll be such good friends you don’t care. Let’s go back to that. Rice? Pine nuts? Here, take the red brocade pillow. My child will serve water to your horse. No, I was not busy when you came! I was not preparing to be busy. That’s the armor everyone put on to pretend they had a purpose in the world. I refuse to be claimed. Your plate is waiting. We will snip fresh mint into your tea.
These words!
"When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he's come from,
where he's headed.
That way, he'll have strength
enough to answer.
Or by then you'll be
such good friends
you don't care."
We need to feed each other for three days, I think, before we discuss the border, racism, language, homophobia, economics, education, war...
After visiting the sites, we took a different route back to the car. It was a beautiful walk, with the mountains ahead of us. So much beauty in this place. And also so much loss. Chances are there are many people who die in the desert without us knowing about it; their remains are never found. As we walked we wondered who has gone before us here, and who has died in this place.
We might not know names, or see grave sites. But we remember humans struggled here, and many died alone with just the sky and the scrub brush to keep them company.
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