They come by the thousands from Guatemala, Nicaragua, Honduras and El Salvador, fleeing poverty, hunger, violence and oppression. They come sin papeles, indocumentado, ilegal, dozens of people at a time on top of a train car. And when the train approaches a border checkpoint, they jump off the moving train. Later, having navigated the checkpoint on foot, they jump back on the moving train.
And sometimes they fall while doing this.
That’s how Marcos and Johnathan lost their legs. Marcos, 19, is Guatemalan. Johnathan, 20, is from Honduras. They’re both staying at Albergue Jesús de Buen Pastor, “Jesus’ Shelter of the Good Shepherd,” in Tapachula, Chiapas.
The albergue takes care of migrants who are sick or have been assaulted, raped or injured. There’s a man whose jaw is broken in three places, a guy with a broken leg, an American alcoholic who drunkenly fell and broke his hip, the aforementioned one-legged youths and a guy who got shot in the arm. He showed me his X-ray. The bullet shattered inside his arm and is still there in more than 20 pieces.
Mexican immigration officials sent most people who arrive at the albergue. Mexico has a very similar immigration policy to our own.
Basically, if you’re poor, good luck getting in. That’s why so many illegal immigrants come to Mexico and also why so many illegal immigrants come to the United States — the very people that most need to be let in. The people who are starving in their own countries are denied visas.
Of course, if your choice is between starving to death and crossing a border illegally, you don’t really have a choice at all. So they come by train, and if they don’t get hurt on the train, they face more danger immediately upon reaching a new country. Their illegal status makes it difficult to find work or stable living conditions, which puts them at the mercy of shady employers, sketchy landlords and street criminals.
If they’re lucky, they can make it to Mexico City or the U.S. border and find a job good enough to pay for their living arrangements and maybe send money home to their families, too. If they’re unlucky, they can end up lying in bed with a broken neck at Albergue Jésus de Buen Pastor.
Even when someone manages to find work as an undocumented immigrant, it’s not likely to be the kind of work that anyone would want to do for a living.
One guy who came to the albergue had burns on his feet so bad he couldn’t walk. He got these from lime splashing on his feet during construction work in Mexico City. He was working construction with no shoes on.
Now think about that for a second. What have you ever, ever needed so badly that you would cross a border illegally, riding on top of a train for several days and nights, for the opportunity to work construction with no shoes on for perhaps $5 a day?
The answer for almost everyone who reads this is: nothing. I have never in my life been that hungry, that desperate. I would never jump off a moving train, crawl through the jungle to avoid Mexican military sentries armed with machine guns and then jump back on a moving train. As Americans, we just wouldn’t do that, because we never have to.
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For anyone who thinks migrants come to our country because they’re too lazy to work hard in their own country, think about working 12, 14, even 16-hour days in jobs with no worker protection whatsoever. Think about hiking through the desert around Juárez for up to five days without water. Think about sleeping on the streets of Mexico City, praying that you don’t get robbed, because your family in Belize needs that money in your pocket.
So besides the fact that our immigration policies (and those of Mexico) are tantamount to maiming and murdering thousands of innocent people, there’s another reason we should just let them come over: They work harder than we do. That kid Marcos, from the albergue? The 19-year-old with one leg? I saw him literally hopping around holding a broom to clean the floor of the shelter.
Contrast this with the behavior of the American guy at the albergue, an old-school redneck from Tennessee, as heartland American as you can get. While Marcos was struggling to work the broom, the dustpan and his crutches at the same time, American Jim was lying in bed complaining about the mosquitoes. Sure, he’s in a wheelchair, but it would have been a lot easier for him to do some dishes than it was for Marcos to sweep up the whole dormitory he was staying in.
To follow Beale’s adventures in Mexico, check out his blogs at DailyLobo.com
