Santo

Yesterday, I spent the morning in Anapra, Mexico. Anapra is, technically, a suburb of Ciudad Juarez, but certainly challenges the US notion of "suburb." Located about seven miles from downtown Juarez, Anapra is a collection of homes, which are in turn collections of building materials ranging from tires to cinder block and wooden 2x4's. From the ground up (as a first impression), the town felt like a patchwork quilt, haphazardly pieced together with fraying threads and the occasional, well-worn hole. Dirt roads rise and fall along the contour of foothills, and dry desert flora offer the occasional alternative to dust.

Standing on the steps of the clinic

After crossing the US/Mexico border in Santa Teresa by car, the short drive to Anapra carried us to our destination for the morning, the Santo Nino (Holy Child) clinic. The Santo Nino was founded and is run by the Sisters of Charity, originally with the help of a Columban priest. Santo Nino is a place for families of children with disabilities, to bring their children and receive therapy, company, lunch and support. For many poor mothers (and they are mostly mothers), there are few spaces where they and their children can receive both physical and emotional support. Santo Nino grew out of a need seen in what was the Sister's original mission in the area: a primary care clinic. Though their clinic on the US side of the border still remains, the clinic in Anapra slowly transitioned to serve only children with disabilities from this marginalized location. Three main rooms (built first next to, then adjacent to, then in place of their companion priest's house!) offer exercise mats on the floor, therapy balls, a massage table, toys and the clinic's hot spot -- a jacuzzi tub for water therapy. The space is very basic compared to the idea of a clinic in the US, but the love, care and dedication with which the sisters have tended its growth make it somewhat of a haven.

Front door (on the left) and clinic van!

Though I am just starting to know their stories, the women who come to the clinic, Sister Janet says, are able to take a special sort of refuge there. Normally, she told me, taking their children out and on public buses (as is the primary mode of transportation) evokes unpleasant and unwelcoming stares. At the clinic, they are home. The Sisters' mission to serve and be present for the poor have guided into a niche none of them, Sister Janet has confessed, quite ever imagined! Through the Sisters' and Father Bill's (the Columban priest) work with the community, and much divine providence, a scholarship program and library -- run out of a community member's house -- now exist, with over 200 scholarship students. Ten thus far have made it to the University.

A part of me feels reserved to write too knowingly about a place I am very new to, but the stories and dynamics I heard yesterday rang to me of El Salvador. Common denominators among the stories are poverty and survival. The giant shadow lurking in this area though, and what I have just begun to scratch the surface of, is the role that the culture of the US/Mexico border plays. As I do this blog, I will try to piece together what I learn from talking to people who live here with bits of knowledge and stories gained along the way. Personally, I find myself fascinated with the dynamics of life along the border, from high school students in El Paso smuggling drugs on the weekend to border patrol agents who share the same churches with undocumented community members. Drug trafficking seems to be a huge, constant lure.

US/Mexico border fence (as seen from the Mexican side)

Some things I have learned so far: Two weeks ago, a 2 ft x 2 ft tunnel for trafficking drugs was found running underneath the Rio Grande, crossing from Mexico into an El Paso storm drain. 200 pounds of marijuana and a 17-year-old Mexican boy were found inside. You can read more about the story here: http://www.elpasotimes.com/ci_15382488. Our next door neighbor, Siba, used to be a foster mother and shared on the journey to Anapra about a baby she took in a few years ago. The baby's mother had been caught bringing drugs over to the US in a car, and did not want the baby to stay with relatives in Mexico. Having a baby in the car, Siba reported, is thought to make people look less suspicious, so families may "lend" babies out. Youth crossing the border into the US are often targeted to carry drugs because juvenile sentences tend to be shorter, and youth are more willing and naive enough to take the risk. Ciudad Juarez is the site of more than 400 unsolved murders and abductions of women over the past 10 years -- mostly poor women who work in the maquilas (sweat shops). If you type "femicide" into a Google search, "femicide in juarez" is the first suggested match. Much, but not all, of the violence in Juarez is drug-war driven. Stories of poverty and survival.

While these are just small glimpses of light & truths garnered in the course of a few days, I think personal testimonies add a certain, irreplaceable dimension to the picture. They are their own sources. That said, know that the scope, implications, history and realities of the border are more than I could ever take in. Most of what I write here will be a simpler analysis of what I come into contact with, the pieces of the mosaic I touch. The focus of my time isn't necessarily scholastic research, so those seeking a deeper context should continue to explore that. (Though I did look up the drug tunnel, and statistics for Juarez, and will likely do that for things I'm overwhelmingly curious about :)

with love and rain from New Mexico,

thanks for reading,

elizabeth

Kayaking on the Rio Grande!