By the way, I survived

As you can probably tell, I recuperated from my heat exhaustion—slowly but surely and with the nurturing of some wonderful group mates (it is truly a gift to be surrounded by social workers through all this).  However, I mostly wanted to note that the young men who shared their stories with us made it safely to Mexico City.  The next leg of the train journey from Las Patronas is typically one of the most dangerous with its narrow tunnels and increased gang activity and violence.   The young men requested a ride back with our group and we were able to securely transport them to a migrant shelter in Mexico City.

La bestia dentro de mi cabeza

 I have been thinking about Las Patronas since we left on Monday evening. I hope I never lose the steady thumping sensation of the rushing freight train that I still feel each time my heart beats.  As I move about my days, slight motion sickness disturbs the remnants of nausea that I felt in the high altitude and glaring sun. I know the nausea I felt that day was not just a physical response to the heat but an emotional torrent pushing and pulling and grasping at my gut—still stirring in the pit of my stomach.

Cordoba is a small pueblo approximately 3 hours by bus from Mexico City and home to Las Patronas, a group of local women who offer food, water and shelter to people migrating by train.  Unsure what we might experience during our encounter with ‘la bestia’ (the beast) or “el tren de muerte” (the train of death as it is called by many people who ride the trains), we arrived in the blazing Veracruz sun, unprepared both physically and emotionally for what was to come.

We started the day being introduced to Las Patronas.  This small group of women grew up watching increasing numbers of people traveling from Central America and southern Mexico on the freight trains that pass through Cordoba multiple times a day.  Central Americans are often scapegoats for the increased violence and economic issues in Mexico; yet, despite limited resources and the risk that comes with helping migrant persons, Las Patronas continue offer what they can and to stand in solidarity with the people who pass by in search of….well, many things…

Next, we met 6 young men who arrived to Las Patronas just days before from El Salvador. They described to us parts of their recent journey, having left El Salvador just 10 days before. The terror of la bestia we had read and talked about became more real as we listened reverently to unfathomable stories of violence and fear experienced by men younger than I. These young men all expressed a desire to find employment in order to improve their lives and the lives of their families. They expressed a strong belief that this journey was their only way to a better future.  Mexico City was their next destination with hopes of eventually heading to the United States where each of the men already had some family. 

After hearing first-hand accounts of the violence, death and fear that the train carries, we awaited the afternoon train. As we prepared bags of food and bottles of water to distribute as the train passed we heard the first alert, “the train is coming!” Quickly, we gathered our provisions and carried them to the tracks. The women and regular volunteers warned us of the dangers of the train and showed us how to hold the bags of food and bottles of water in order to be most effective and efficient. I was in a daze. My heart began to thump as the train came into view.  The small group of people on the train was given food as the train passed—maybe 5 or 6.   We returned to preparing food bags—slightly disappointed, my heart still pounding. 

The second alert “the train is coming!”  We ran to the tracks and watched as English spackled barrels carrying petroleum and a few armed guards raced north. False alarm.  Return to work.

At this point, the thumping of the rushing freight trains pounded in my head and nausea set in. I decided that I needed to rest and focus on rehydrating because I was not in good shape. The reality of what was likely a combination of heat exhaustion and altitude sickness began to set in. The thumping in my head persisted. “The train is here!”  I ran to carry food and water to the tracks without a thought.  As the train approached, my heart and head were pounding.   I slung bottles of water tied together over my shoulders and brought as many bags of food as I could near my spot by the tracks.  I got my footing near the tracks, making sure not to stand too close.  This was it.   Car after car flew by as the freight train seemed to be another disappointment and then we saw them: hundreds of people riding the train, others leaning off the side of the speeding train and gathering up our offering.  I managed to hand off most of my supply of food and water before the last car had past. We waved as the people shouted “gracias!” in the distance.

“Este es que es ser vivo!” “This is what it means to be alive!”  said one of the regular volunteers at Las Patronas. I smiled still in shock and realizing slowly that I had just used the last of my energy on the adrenaline rush.   We returned the remaining supplies back to the shelter in disbelief of what we had just experienced. Tears began to flow from nearly everyone in our group. We were speechless. Javier, a professor who regularly brings groups from Ibero University in Mexico City, stepped in to support us as we debriefed.   He told us to remember that amidst the great tragedy that we witnessed so closely, there is something good in what we were able to do. He asked us to bring word to our friends and families in the U.S. that Mexico is not just filled with violence and corruption but with vibrant people who are working for justice and human rights.  He said that what was happening on the trains was “not simply a tragedy, but genocide.”

I had reached my limit.  I walked dizzily to our bus to sit down out of the sun and try to stay hydrated.  I felt sicker and sicker as the group shared a beautiful meal that I could hear was filled with laughter and true gratefulness. I couldn’t eat. I sat on the bus slowly drinking water and waiting for the sweltering heat to break for the day.  Since the train had passed I had felt my entire body inside and out begin to boil. I closed my eyes and began thinking about the way the dehydration can make a person delirious. I imagined the heat of the metal and unsheltered freight cars in the scorching sun. I thought of what it must take to drive a person to leave behind everything and everyone they know and love.  I thought of how so many people are forced to take such risks in hope of a better future for their families. I thought of Drew, my family, my friends and how I would likely never have to make such a journey.  I breathed in and out slowly to the beat of the freight car still thumping in my head.

Mutual Aid

Technically, I am here in Mexico City for classes and academic learning…right?  My first few days here have been an emotional detox.  I spend so much time as a social worker and a social work student trying to solve and resolve the “problems” that my clients and professors put in front of me.  I address and analyze the systemic issues, the diagnosis and the barriers with my professional super powers that I received upon beginning in the social work field.  My anger against unjust systems and stigma builds and builds with nowhere to go. Today, I was reminded yet again that these super powers are powers to which everyone has some access—it’s called emotional connection or human relationships.  

Jaquelin is a Psychologist who utilizes a popular education model for the work she does in groups with women who are ‘left behind’ when their sons and husbands migrate from Mexico.  After recent decades of increased migration from Mexico to the United States, many of these rural communities are now comprised of mainly women, children and los abuelos. This has strained many families who survive without the presence of their spouses or sons whom often must leave in order to find work. Many women with whom Jaquelin works experience depression, anxiety, sexual, physical and emotional abuse, and difficulty adjusting to new roles in the absence of their spouse. 

Eneida, Clemencia and Gely are three women from rural towns in the state of Veracruz, Mexico.  These women spoke from their experiences and involvement in Jaquelin's groups and facilitated activities with us surrounding some of the themes that are covered during their own group experiences. The topics we went through as a group were: emotional management, grief, violence and assertiveness. 

Much of the practical information we discussed was nothing new to a group of master’s level social work students--- the 5 stages of grief… check!  Forms of violence….check!  Effective communication and assertiveness….check! Check!   However, it is here is where I the tears begin to flow. Eneida, Clemencia and Gely had all began these groups as participants, not facilitators. They had experienced extreme forms of abuse, violence and grief throughout their relationships. They lived missing their children and husbands who left in search of a better life with no pills to numb the pain or diagnosis to name their experience.    It was their powerful testimonies that grip my heart. Each had felt worthless, incapable and powerless, and each had overcome these lies not by means of isolated and individualized therapy but by the “apoyo mutual” or mutual aid in which they were essential to the care of each other. 

The idea of mutual-aid is nothing new but has been largely over shadowed by professionalized and hierarchical methods of clinician-client relationships.  I am the clinician/expert and you are the client/problem to be solved.   What I experienced today has affirmed me in my struggle to not lose the human connection in my work. It is so easy to begin putting up emotional walls, or as we in the biz like to say “boundaries,” when we constantly encounter people who have experienced great trauma or struggles.  We say that these boundaries protect us and in some ways I agree.  However, today I am feeling more human as I begin uncovering the emotions which I have learned very well to stuff deep down as a defense…against what?  The human being and connection right in front of me. 

Preparing for a journey

In about a week, I will be leaving Chicago for Mexico with a group of 14 other graduate social work students and two wonderful professors, Marta Lundy and Maria Vidal de Haymes.

I have been pointing towards this trip for a long time now.  Since I was young I have asked to myself "what if I was born in Mexico?"   "What if I had grown up speaking Spanish?"  I have truly longed to spend more extended time in Mexico exploring these among many identity-related questions and I am so grateful for the chance to take this trip. 

Though the questions I have been pondering since childhood are still present in my mind, I have started also asking bigger picture questions like "why am I so free to come and go from Mexico when so many people risk their lives to make such a journey?" and "what will it take to make U.S. immigration policies humane and just?" 

 I have visited family several times in Reynosa, Mexico and Texas and participated in a "border immersion" trip in Ciudad Juarez/El Paso, Texas.  Each visit to Mexico has given me insight --about myself, my heritage, my mother, my family--and each visit uncovers more questions.  It seems that the longing I have is not as much for answers but for better questions.   

In my social work program at Loyola, I am pursuing a sub-specialization in Migration Studies. It is my hope that in the future I will be able to use my counseling and social work training to work with the many Spanish-speaking people who live in the United States. 

This trip will begin in Mexico City on May 12th. We will be staying in a convent in Colonia Roma and completing 2 classes: Migration Policy and Therapy with Mexican Families. These classes will be taught by Marta and Maria as well as through many guest lecturers and hands on experiences in and around Mexico City. 


On May 25th, I will be heading to San Cristobal de las Casas with my companeras, Nilsa and Erin, to complete two months of fieldwork for the social work program.   My placement is at Kinal Antsetik working with indigenous women and teenage girls from Chiapas.  (http://www.kinalantsetik.com/quienes.html) More on this after I get a better sense of my work there.  

  Before we leave, we were assigned the book "Enrique's Journey." This is about a young man's experiences and multiple attempts at making the treacherous journey from Honduras to the United States. Enrique leaves his home to find his mother who left to find work in the U.S. when Enrique was just a boy.  

Enrique's story helps to paint a more realistic albeit gruesome picture of what migrants go through in search of a 'better life.'  My group and I will be volunteering with an organization of women(mentioned in this book) who provide humanitarian aid to migrants who are riding the trains through Mexico.

I hope to offer reflections on my own journey to Mexico City and Chiapas throughout my trip. I would appreciate any feedback and reflections!  

Peace,

Cassie

“The treatment of migrants challenges the consciences of elected officials, policymakers, enforcement officers, residents of border communities and providers of legal aid and social services...Our nations have a singular opportunity to act as true neighbors and to work together to build a more just and generous immigration system.”

Strangers No Longer: Together on the Journey of Hope

A Pastoral Letter Concerning Migration from the Catholic Bishops of Mexico and the United States

http://www.nccbuscc.org/issues-and-action/human-life-and-dignity/immigration/strangers-no-longer-together-on-the-journey-of-hope.cfm