Speechless

Today I am burnt out by the poverty that surrounds me, the sun that dries me to the core, and my failure to see any real solutions to the dependence on the immigration north that provides the only hope for so many desperate Mexicans. For the past two weeks, I have been traveling in an area of Mexico know as “the Mixteca” - an over farmed, harsh, mountainous landscape between Oaxaca and Mexico City. The region has depended on small-scale farming of corn, peanuts, sugarcane, tomatoes, onions, and chilies for basic survival since long before the Spanish arrived; but today, as their soil looses nutrients and as the rainy season turns into days upon days of dry sun-scorching heat, its indigenous and mestizo inhabitants risk their lives to wash dishes in New York City, build houses in Maryland, and pick grapes in California.

I have talked with hundreds of Mexicans who have worked in the U.S. and returned to their tiny farming towns to transform their dirt floors into concrete ones, and their nylon windows into glass. I have spoken with women who, left behind while their husbands work in the U.S., struggle through tears to express their worry that their husbands will never return, and then what will they do to provide for their children? Migrants have told me about their crossing north – the dead bodies that they come across, the thieves that steal everything from them, down to the shoes that they are wearing, and the rapes of the young women. I have spoken with teachers, professors, and local government officials about their micro-credit programs, the opening of small-scale factories, and the scholarships that they struggle to provide so that the youth will stay in Mexico. But despite these efforts to create jobs, educational opportunities, and social services, these local politicians and educators are the first to tell me that there is nothing they can do to keep people from risking their lives to wash dishes in the U.S.

This morning, I spent time with a brave farmer, who has risked everything and invested more than $70,000 over one year to cultivate 3 acres of Papaya so that he can sell them for less than 15 cents per kilo; through this farmer’s pride in his accomplishments and his service of providing at least 10 jobs in his town of 10,000, I cannot manage to tell him that I do not see how he could ever earn a profit.

Indeed, life is rough in the Mixteca, and while none of what I am seeing is a surprise, the impact of their poverty on my being is overwhelming. I ponder all the theories of macroeconomics, globalization, and the culture of poverty that I have studied, and yet I have no answers. How could I possibly expect that these people would somehow have made sustainable economies out of the $100 they receive from migrant family members every 2-6 months? Sustainable economies with what product and for what market? I doubt that the $12.00 I spend on my hotel room and the $10.00 I spend on food is making any real impact and who knows when they will see another foreigner here?

I wonder about how a less corrupt government could save the people of the Mixteca or how a friendlier neighbor to the north could provide opportunities or even how a revolution in the international market for fruits and vegetables could give these farmers a chance to keep on living as they have for centuries. I even think about how an education based on critical analysis rather than Mexico’s current system of teaching students to memorize and become faithful bureaucrats could reshape the day-to-day reality of the Mixteca. But all my thoughts – the strength of my mind that comes from growing up in abundance among critical thinkers and my $100,000 college education – all these thoughts just get twisted in me swelling head and I am left whispering to myself, “get yourselves out of here, flee north, or wherever you can go to find opportunity, just get yourselves out of here.”

As U.S. soldiers from Kentucky, South Carolina, and Arizona begin to swell along the U.S./Mexico border, I know that fleeing the Mixteca is not a “sustainable” solution, but is it possible that in the 21rst century people can just die out like the dinosaurs? Then, I think about the potato famine in Ireland that pushed millions of Irish to Boston in the mid 19th century, and I am left wondering who created that word sustainable? Furthermore, I think about the impoverished people living all over the world today, suffering from diseases that we know how to cure, dying from hunger at the same time that U.S. farming surplus rots in the fields or is sent south where it annihilates the earnings of local farmers, or all those poor people that are dying from the droughts and floods that have “mysteriously” increased in the past 5 years. I think about all those people – numbers that far outnumber the hundreds of people that I have spoken with in the Mixteca – and that word sustainable troubles me more and more.

I know that poverty and inequality have always existed, but in today’s globalized world, what happens when the son that dropped out of school in the 4th grade makes $500 a week in New York City, while the son who studied law can barely feed his family – let alone own his own home – while he makes less than $100 a week in the Mixteca?

We used to be separated by simple lack of knowledge about our neighboring countries, but today the enormous inequality and lack of justice of the world is as intimate as a conversation between a husband in the Bronx and his wife in Tecomatlan. This illegal intimacy – in all of its insanity, pain, and disjointedness – seems the most sustainable solution that I can imagine for the people of the Mixteca.

Paradoxical, no? Illegal migration north is the most sustainable solution despite the impending crisis and dead end that it provokes. And with this sun-soaked, swollen head, I am left wondering, “What happens to people when there are no good solutions? What will become of the Mixteca when all their kindergartens close for lack of students, or when the money sent from the U.S. dries up – or worse – when the U.S. economy can truly no longer sustain these honest laborers? What happens to civilizations when their most rational choices lead them blindly towards self destruction?”

I do not have the answer. But I do know than in a “globalized” world, we are all intimately connected to the problem, and whether or not our rational brains lead us towards self-destruction or self-renewal is a responsibility shared by all of us.

Signs of the American Dream South of the Border

Canta de los Inmigrantes


I am trying to get the recorded sound onto my site - but as I work on that, I wanted to share this canto that an Mexican migrant who returned to his town in Esperanza, Puebla shared with me...

Procedente de Esperanza salieron una mañana. Una y al otro se miraba, llueva a nula mirada. Era su sueño dorado de un día llegar a Tijuana.

Era mañana de enero bonito por cierto el mes. Su sueño serán Tijuana o California tal vez. Rubén se lo platicaba al que venia primera vez.

Sus padres son raídos viejos llorando los despidieron, diciéndole unos consejos lo mucho que se quisieron, “Recuerdos cuando eran niños el tiempo que nos tuvieron.”

Estaban rayando el alma cuando el autobús tomaron. En México tan bonito otro autobús abordaron su destino era Tijuana eso es lo que comentaron.

Una camión neta blanca en San Isidro tomaron, al las once de la noche lo estaba esperando. Las placas no se los digo por ya se me olvidaron

Nunca olvidare cuando la migra búrlanos. Cruzando muchas veredas y una rolla que cruzamos del pollero que nos trajo ni una raza nos damos.

Ahora me encuentro feliz con todo los ilegales a todo traigo saludos y ha venido a saludarles pero los quiero pedir no olviden su familiares.

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Originating from Esperanza, they took off one morning. As one looks at the other, they wear an empty gaze. It was the golden dream to one day reach Tijuana.

It was a January morning, for certain a beautiful month. Their dream would be Tijuana, or perhaps California. Ruben talked about how he would be coming for the first time.

Their parents are worn-out elders, crying as they sent them off. Imparting some advice, the most important of which was, “Remember when you were children the time that we had together.”

Their spirits were shining when they caught the bus. In Mexico, so beautiful, they caught another bus, its destination was Tijuana. That is what they said.

They took a bus blanketed in white in San Isidro, waiting for it since 11:00 p.m. at night. I don’t tell you about the license plates, because I have already forgotten.

I will never forget when migration sized us up. Crossing many paths and disorder, of which the trafficker who took us never gave us a clue.

Now I have found happiness with all the illegal Mexicans to whom I bring greetings. I have come to greet them but I want to ask them never to forget their families.

La Ley de Elode

In the last three days, I have gone from Puebla, Mexico through tiny farming towns along the state's southern border experiencing the ingenuity of Mexicans - who after years of being forgotten by their own government - have taken the law into their own hands and headed north to take advantage of the U.S. market. The family meltdown aside, in many of these towns, the American Dream has brought them two story houses made of cement to replace those made of cardboard, nylon, and wood that barely kept them dry in the rainy season. There are cars were there were horses and mules only three years before; children have shoes and can afford to study all the way through high school if they choose to; there are lights in the street; roads have been paved, and slowly medical services and small businesses are moving in to provide additional services and jobs.

Not only are the migrants bringing hope to their forgotten communities but they are also attracting the interest of local, state, and federal government services that are finding ways to mix public treasury money with the donations from migrants - who only 10 years ago did not have enough money to buy beans for their families. This overhaul of wealth gained from the US, is slowly created a culture of progress within a culture of poverty and anguish that has existed since the Spanish conquered the Aztezs, the Mixtecs, the Toltecs, and all the smaller indigenous groups caught in the middle years ago. There is no doubt that the growing hope in these small towns has raised the likes of Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador to the position of power where he now finds himself. People that never bothered with politics, are beginning to pay attention...and although this year Obrador may not succeed in proving that the election was tainted or in actually achieving the majority of the vote, he already has the support of hundreds of thousands of Mexican farmers, and they will not stand for defeat the next time.

While the Mexican government was asleep, Mexicans took the ley de elode. Mexicans from forgotten towns that lacked electricity, potable water (running water is still a ways a way), paved streets, or credible elected officials who did not rob from the most desparate, risked their lives and broke up their familes so that they could recreate their world. They went north when it was easier to cross the border and they brought back the American Dream. As Americans, we know that the American dream is not just a material one, but it also encompasses those ideals of progress and opportunity that say - anything is possible. Much more powerful than a car or a house, Mexicans return from the U.S. with the consciousness that they desrve better, that they can make a better world, that new ideas will provide a greater future for their children, and that it is time for their tired Mexican government of thieves who have manipulated the poor indigenous community for years to take a hike.

The Mexican government is now waking up and attempting to provide many of the public services that never existed before because some of them are beginning to see that their days of abuse, corruption, and robbery are over. But, it may be too late. These poor Mexicans have realized what they deserve as a result of their exposure to the land of opportunity. While the immigration situation has created an enormous amount of contradictions, dead ends, and suffering, it has played a significant role in the creation of change, hope, and possibility. With luck, the growing cosciousness of change will continue to push the old rule of corruption and manipulation out in order to welcome a new politics of democracy and opportunity so that Mexicans can create the American Dream, Mexican style and keep their families together south of the border.

Too Close to Call

At 10 p.m. CST, the 2006 Mexican Presidential election is too close to call. The left leaning PRD canidate, Andres Manuuel Lopez Obrador (AMLO), and the conservative PAN canidate, Felipe Calderon, are within a 1 point margin, and prelimiary results will not be reported by Mexican media until 2:00 a.m. CST. Even after the Mexican media takes a guess on the winner in the early Monday a.m., the official results are not expected until 8:00 CST on Monday evening - more than 24 hours from the time when the last poll booths closed.

What greater test for an emerging democracy than an election that is too close to call? While Mexico lags behing its big brother to the north in almost every political and economic measure, they may have the U.S. beat on election controls. Not only has a clear system been layed out for calling the closest election in Mexican history, but there are foreign election monitors from the UN and other international groups watching over to make sure justice prevails.

From just observing the short lines, efficient computerized voting cards, and the voting sites located every 5 blocks or so in Mexico City, I think voters can feel safe that their voices will be heard. We all await expectantly to hear whether Mexico will offer new hope to its poorest people through the victory of left-leaning (AMLO) or whether it will remain on the same path established under Fox with a victory by business focused Panista, Calderon.

It is my wish that hope reigns, that Mexico remains stable with the change of power, and that Mexico continues to grow into an innovative democracy with new solutions and leadersip for all of Latin America.

The "Amexicana Dream" is More Sad Than it is Beautiful

Ajojaluca, Puebla – Francisco de la Luz Gutierrez, a strong, commanding figure at 44, stands comfortably behind the counter of his family’s brand new hardware store in the tiny, farming town of Ajojuca, which is set around an awe-inspiring natural lagoon in the mountains of Puebla, Mexico. Despite the town’s population of only 4000, business at the hardware store is busy for a Tuesday. Locals come in and out, and Francisco’s wife takes phone calls from clients purchasing cement, paint, and other basic construction materials. A brief tour of Ajojuca – where house upon house is under construction to add additional floors, replace traditional wood with cement and brick, and install new glass windows – makes it easy to understand why business is brisk.

“The money transfers from the U.S. sustain this town,” began Francisco, who has returned to Ajojuca after living in Santa Monica, California with his family for more than 25 years. “There is not one household here that does not have a family member in the U.S. In Ajojuca, the mentality is to go the United States to progress, because here it is very difficult to improve the standard of living for your family.”

Over the past 20 years, Ajojuca has experienced the same economic breakdown as other farming towns in this southeastern Mexican corridor. There has been a rapid decrease in rainfall at the same time that the price of crops – such as the traditional standard of beans and corn – has fallen by more than half. Despite governmental promises of subsidy programs and new industry, the blow to farmers as a result of Mexico’s increasing privatization and the international competition brought on by NAFTA, has not been ameliorated through the creation of alternative employment.

That is why, in 1980 – at the age of 18 and driven by a deep-felt responsibility to provide for his family – Francisco crossed the U.S./Mexican border without a formal education or even the money to pay a coyote. He started working as a dishwasher and a landscape laborer, and he made the dangerous crossing back to Ajojuca every July so that he could visit his wife during the town’s annual festival.

After receiving legal worker status as a result of the 1986 U.S. Immigration Regulation Control Act (IRCA), Francisco brought his wife to the U.S., raised two sons and a daughter there, and eventually moved from working as a salesman at a nursery to starting his own private landscaping business. Finally in 2004, Francisco moved his now lawfully residing wife and U.S.-citizen children back to Ajojuca to reconnect with the family tradition of farming, raising chickens, and horse-wrangling.

“I was tired of the stress of the U.S., and I wanted to come home to my Mexican roots so that my children could develop an appreciation for where we are from,” Francisco continued while his two eldest sons walked in and out of the store, listening in to the conversation sporadically. “They miss the U.S., but I will not let them go back until they try life here for awhile, and learn to ride horses, raise chicken, and listen to some of our traditional Mexican music.”

Francisco and his family epitomize the “Amexicana Dream”, wherein families migrate to the U.S., improve their standard of living, and at the same time attempt to maintain their allegiance to Mexican culture, and eventually return to Mexico to live. Luckily for Francisco, he can now support his family from Ajojuca as a result of the money sent by other Ajojucan migrants now living throughout California, Texas, Colorado, Illinois, and New York. But just as the vibrant housing construction represents a temporary veneer over what is basically an economically depressed farming town, the “dreamy” aspect of Francisco and his family’s accomplishments hides a more complex reality.

The life that depends on migration is full of dreams that are incompatible with day-to-day actions. While the original goal may have been to improve family wellbeing, family wellbeing has been the hardest hit by the culture of migration and many migrant families are collapsing as a result of the division between two worlds.

Through tears, Maria de los Angeles Urbino, another Ajojucan whose hardware business has benefited from the dollars sent from the U.S., talks about her son, Luis, who went north a year ago to experience the wealth that his father had brought back after working as a laborer in California. “He did not have to go. Our family is doing well here, but there were disagreements between him and his father and he took off for the border.”

Luis represents a new group of migrants that do not have the same neccesity as their parents did, but who have grown up benefitting and hearing about the many opportunities del otro lado. “The truth is that Luis is not even doing that well in the U.S.,¨ Maria continues. “He tells me that he is living in a room packed with other migrants and that the gringos treat him like an animal. But he has something to prove to his father and so since September 2005, he has not returned.”

While the official census of Ajojuca indicates that one in nine residents migrate the U.S., Ajojuca’s registrar, Celina Despiderio Vasquez, believes that it is more like one in two – or in other words, somewhere between 1700-2000 of Ajojuca’s population of 4000 are living in the U.S.

“Today there are more career options here, but teenagers have their mind on the American dream rather than on studying in school,” Celina says matter of factly from her small unadorned government office. “Often, those who leave, are those with the least resources, the lowest level of education, and those whose families do not value the importance of education.”

The economic benefits from the large-scale migration are visible. Beyond the booming construction industry, Ajojuca’s catholic church has been repaired in the past two years from damage suffered in the 1996 earthquake, and new statues have been added with engravings indicating that they were donated by Ajojucans living in Denver, Colorado. The local school has been remodeled, cars abound, and a large community center is being built on the ledge of the Laguna.

Despite the remodeling of Ajojuca and the increasing financial opportunities, the culture of migration reigns, and teenagers continue to make the journey north. According to Francisco, “now immigration is more about the individual than about trying to make a better life for their families. Many wives and children suffer great sadness when husbands never return, or sometimes they return sick and addicted to drugs. They think, ‘I’ll just take a stroll north,’ but in the end, they don’t bring anything but sadness upon their families.”

The truth is, the migration situation is much more sad than it is beautiful,” Francisco concluded.

The Signs and the Impact of Migration in the Mexican State of Puebla