Border Immersion Part 2

On Wednesday, I had the great privilege of going to Las Americas Immigrant Advocacy Center where my new friend Ali (a current Border Servant Corps volunteer) works.  Ali gave an incredible presentation about ways that migrants come to the U.S. legally and where the problems in the immigration system exist.  She also shared a few heart-wrenching stories about people seeking asylum here in El Paso.  I think the hardest stories to swallow are those about people fleeing very obvious threats to their lives, especially from Juárez, but lose their asylum cases (after spending time in a detention center to boot!)  I understand the argument about the U.S. not being able to take everyone who wants to come here (and I kind of disagree with it since I think that a lot of people who have resettled here would prefer temporary work permits...but that's a different topic altogether), but there is something that just seems especially evil about sending people back across the bridge to Juárez from El Paso, knowing that they will likely be killed almost immediately upon return.  The whole system is out-dated and screwed up and complicated.  Here is a picture of the beautiful mural on the side of Las Americas:

 
On Thursday morning, I went with the immersion group to the Anapra fence.  For the first hour, we chatted with two border patrol agents.  It was pretty interesting listening to the discourse that they're trained to use.  For example, they referred to themselves as "paramilitary" but then insisted that the border is not "militarized."  They gave us information on the history of the border and its security, and explained how the various branches of enforcement fit together (e.g. Customs and Border Protection vs. Immigration and Customs Enforcement).  When asked about the building of the fence, they made sure to emphasize that it is not a "wall" before explaining that it only serves to "slow people down."  That's why there is no fence up Mt. Cristo Rey, which serves as a 3-way border between Texas, New Mexico, and Chihuahua; the mountain slows people down more than any fence would.  My favorite part was when one of the agents explained that tight border security is vital for apprehending "terrorists."  One of the members of the group asked how many terrorists have been apprehended on the U.S.-Mexico border, and the agent's answer was zero.  She could've stopped there, but then continued to mention how the terrorists behind the September 11 attacks entered the U.S. legally.  I couldn't help but chuckle about her very illogical statements, but to be honest I was pleased with the presentation.  The agents were kind, well-spoken, and gave us direct answers to our questions.  And while I've heard stories of brutality among the "migra", I truly believe that it's a minority of agents who use excessive force.  I also have to respect the fact that the agents are doing their jobs so that they can provide for themselves and their families, just like everyone else, even if I couldn't personally do a job that I had moral issues with.  Although I don't agree with the building of the fence or with "Operation Hold the Line", the border patrol agents' jobs are following orders that are set by policy-makers who are usually in Washington.  As the agents themselves said more than once, if I want border patrol to look different, that's something to talk to my Senators and Representatives about, not them.

Right after the border patrol presentation, we moved our plastic chairs over about 50 yards to chat with some people through the fence.  A Salvadoran family who lived in El Paso for several years and belonged to the Lutheran Church around the corner from my house (which serves as the host for groups like the one visiting) was there, along with a Mexican interpreter.  The father of the family was deported back to El Salvador when he tried to board a plane to go work in Colorado.  He made his way back to northern Mexico, where his wife and two little girls met him.  The girls are U.S. citizens, but the family is living in Juárez hoping for an immigration reform in the U.S. that would allow the parents to move back, especially because they would like the girls to go to schools in the U.S.  The family also has two more daughters (ages 10 and 13 I believe) who are living in El Salvador with their grandmother.  Such a mess.  The interpreter lived in the U.S. illegally until she was 12 with older relatives who were U.S. citizens.  She talked about having to hide when social workers came to the house (I think the relatives were on some sort of housing assistance program).  As the relatives got older, they worried what would happen to the girl if something happened to them.  Therefore, she was sent back to Mexico to live with her mother.

I'll admit that the stories have started becoming all too routine to my ears.  However, what really got me was the fact that we had to talk through a fence.  It gave me the impression of bad neighbors or something.  None of the people that we were talking to were criminals, yet they're not allowed in my yard.  And while I'm allowed in theirs with my pretty blue passport, it's illegal for me to cross outside of a port of entry (and the nearest bridge was several miles east of where we were sitting).  The whole thing is just awkward.

Okay, I'll do my third installment of this entry later!

Border Immersion Part 1

This week has been a fairly slow one.  I did a postpartum interview with a woman on Tuesday afternoon and was able to transcribe it on Wednesday morning, so that was productive.  And I also did some really cool analysis of EMS data from Texas regarding obstetric-related transports.  But other than that, I spent most of my time hanging out with a high school group from Minnesota that is down here for a week to participate in a border immersion program.

On Monday, I went with this group to a few Colonias in El Paso.  Colonias are basically small rural communities that sit close to the U.S.-Mexico border.  There are several hundred of these just in El Paso and several thousand just in the state of Texas.  I drove to the Colonias with Laura, a promotora who works out there.  She was super cool- I really enjoyed learning about her health promotion work and hearing about her experience migrating from Juárez 13 years ago.  And I actually got notified of the Supreme Court's ruling on SB1070 while I was in her car, which seemed quite fitting!

Our first stop was a trailer, where we visited a mother and her adult son who has cerebral palsy.  They are undocumented and the mother shared with us the incredible story of how some young men carried her son (in his wheelchair) across the Rio Grande into the United States several years ago.  They are from Juárez and the reason they came was that although they had health care coverage, there were not many available resources for individuals with disabilities.  Further, the parents were not making much money working (the woman worked in a factory) and were thus struggling economically.  Now, living in El Paso, the family still has many problems.  Their home is certainly adequate, but the woman and her husband attempted to build a wheelchair ramp themselves, which is falling apart.  Therefore, it's very difficult to get the son out of the house to go to doctor's appointments or to just be around other people.  Because they're undocumented, the mother is often afraid to drive anyway, so they're pretty much home-bound.  Additionally, they don't qualify for Medicare or Medicaid, so they rely heavily on the promotoras and on the kindness of others, especially for help with the son.  Although it was a sad story, it was an overall pleasant visit that ended with sharing sweets and orange juice.

I don't like the idea of taking pictures of peoples' houses as "poverty tourism".  But I did take a picture of one of the Colonias that we drove through:

I saw many abandoned or ruined homes like this one throughout the day.  The amount of litter on the ground was also very noteworthy.  Laura told me that there is trash pick-up in some of the Colonias, but she feels like a lot of the people who live there aren't accustomed to throwing trash in barrels.  I guess this isn't surprising, as most of the rural parts of Juárez that I've been to are also strewn with garbage for lack of trash pick-up, and Laura said that most of the Colonias are populated with Juarenses.  

The Colonias vary in how much access they have to a variety of important things.  For example, some have access to piped water and sanitation, while others don't.  Some have access to school buses, while others don't.  Most have access to electricity, but some still don't.  To be honest, I really felt like I had crossed into Mexico when I was there; it was incredibly mind-blowing to see this lack of infrastructure within the United States.

Our next stop on Monday was the Socorro Mission:

It's basically a really old church, but was cool to visit nonetheless.  Before heading back to downtown El Paso, we stopped at a giant souvenir store called Saddle Blanket.  I felt like such a tourist; they had everything from cowboy boots to earrings.  Needless to say, I didn't actually buy anything.

I just decided that I'm going to write about the rest of the week later because there is so much to say and I don't want this to become a super long entry.

Weekend adventures

I'm embarrassed by how long it has taken me to write about last weekend.  I've had a lot of down time at work this week, but instead of sitting on the computer in my office, I've been participating in a high school immersion trip (explanation in my next entry).

On Friday evening, Casa Puente (aka where I live) hosted a washers tournament.  Washers is a popular yard game in which there are two cups placed inside the ground approximately 20 feet apart.  You stand behind one cup and try to throw a washer into the opposite cup.  If it lands inside, you get 5 points.  If it is hanging over the edge, you get 3 points.  If it's within one washer's diameter from the edge of the cup, you get 1 point.  So basically it's like horseshoes, except your arms don't hurt the next day.

Anyway, I digress.  The tournament was lots of fun.  My next door neighbor, Gilberto, taught me how to throw the washers, and I actually held my own in the games (despite never winning).  We had tons of food and I met a lot of new people.  I ended up spending most of the evening with a few of the kids that live next door.  I talked to the 16-year-old girl for several hours about everything from her boyfriend to track and field to her quinceañera dress.  The saddest part was when she casually mentioned that she couldn't get a driver's license because her visa recently expired.  That also means that she can't travel anywhere outside of El Paso that requires going through a check point (such as to White Sands or to Ciudad Juárez, where she lived until she was 5 and where her grandmother still lives).  She's in a technical program in her high school so that she can become a medical assistant.  However, if she isn't able to correct her status, it will be nearly impossible to get a job with a hospital system without a social security number.  I didn't ask for all the details of her parents' status; it's possible that one of them is a legal permanent resident that can become a citizen and then pay the fines to correct her status before she's an adult.  I just don't know how likely that is.  She is so mature for a 16-year-old that it kind of scared me.  She knows how much her parents pay for rent and speaks very intelligently in both English and Spanish.  I feel like she's probably been forced to grow up very quickly as the oldest child, having to interpret for her parents and help take care of her younger sister (age 10) and brother (age 6).  I hope that she and I are able to hang out more this summer.


On Saturday evening, I went to Juárez with Tom and several other people for the celebration of Peter's 89th birthday and 60th anniversary as a priest.  It started with Mass at one of the parishes Peter serves at:

The service was beautiful.  My favorite part was at the end when he requested that all nuns present in the congregation go up to be introduced and celebrated:

After Mass, we went upstairs for a party.  Women from the community made a delicious meal, complete with aguas frescas (melón y limón) and cake.  I also got a chance to talk to several cool gringos who have known Peter and Betty throughout the years and came down from Phoenix, San Antonio, etc. to celebrate.  (By the way, in the above photo, Betty is to the left of the woman wearing a black shirt.)

Saturday was the first time I was in Juárez after dark.  A professor of sociology/anthropology at UTEP drove Tom and I home and unfortunately got very lost.  Therefore, we got quite the tour of the city's nightlife.  I was actually pleasantly surprised to find that locals were out at night.  We passed by several BBQs and novios walking around or making out on the sidewalk.  I expected the streets to be nearly deserted after sunset, but it was about 10pm by the time we got back to the bridge.  I reflected on this with a couple of people, and everyone told me that Juarenses are just used to the violence and sick of trying to avoid it.  That certainly makes sense to me, although I will also say that getting lost at night in a nice car while in a very under-developed portion of the city made me more nervous than I've been all summer.

Livin' the dream

Things with my study are impossibly slow.  I still haven't enrolled any more participants in my study.  Two more women in El Paso delivered, but (understandably) they want to wait a little bit longer to do the second interview so that they can adjust to being mothers and whatnot.  Hopefully I'll be able to do those next week.  Somewhere between 1 and 4 of the women in Juárez have delivered, but getting in touch with them is a huge chore.  I have a Mexican cell phone, so I texted and called them all today.  No responses yet, though.  I'm not too hopeful that they're going to respond, but maybe I'm just cynical after spending half of my time at Good Samaritan Clinic in Savannah trying to chase down patients...and that was when we were providing them free medical services.  I know that at least one woman on the Mexican side had a C-section, so I really can't afford to lose people to follow-up if I'm going to find anything useful this summer.  My next step might be to just sit myself in an office at the university that's partnering with me there and call people incessantly.

Anyway, the border life continues to be super interesting.  Yesterday after work, I went to the Border Farm Workers Center:

It is located literally yards from the border.  In the picture below, which is taken from the same spot where I took the above picture, the building on the left is the Presidencia in Juárez.  The physical border is just past where you see the freight train. 

I went to the center with a group of 7 people who came down from New Mexico State University.  This week, they were hosting an immigration policy conference.  I wish I had been able to go up to the actual conference in Las Cruces, but it's not easy to go back and forth as one pleases without a car.  

The center serves as a resource for farm workers.  They provide dinner every night and a safe space to sleep while also doing community organizing.  

Our evening began with dinner.  I felt really awkward that all of us sat at one table and were served by a couple of the men there.  It was a surprisingly well-balanced meal; I asked for a vegetarian plate, which was steamed mixed veggies, pinto beans, and Spaghetti-Os. It wasn't necessarily delicious, but it provided a nice combination of vegetables, protein, and carbohydrates, which made me happy since I suspect that most of the workers have cardio-metabolic health issues.

After that, our group broke up into pairs and sat down at tables that were scattered across the main room.  There were probably about 40 farm workers sitting around the room in metal folding chairs next to their belongings (a small bag or two) when we entered.  They were almost exclusively men and, much to my surprise, all appeared to be over the age of 50.  (What's going to happen to farm work when this generation retires/dies?) The director, Carlos, explained to the group that we were going to sit in four separate groups to talk about immigration.  Four of the members of the delegation were going to take notes so that we could all report back to the big group after our little break-out session.  The workers all seemed kind of reluctant...or maybe they were just exhausted.  It was already 6pm; they usually go to bed between 8 and 9 so they can be up at 2pm to leave for the fields, which are about 2 hours away.  

My group was led by a woman who actually chairs the board of the center.  She is originally from Juárez and worked in the maquilas when she was a youth before migrating to El Paso.  She's currently a community organizer somewhere in southern New Mexico.  All of the men in my group were from the state of Durango, which is just south of Chihuahua (the state where Ciudad Juárez is), and they were all over the age of 60.  They have all also been in the United States since before 1986, when IRCA was enacted (commonly referred to as the "amnesty act"), meaning that all of them are in the U.S. legally.

I felt very uncomfortable sitting at a table as the token white educated female U.S.-citizen talking about migration, which is probably a good thing.  It initially crossed my mind that I could mention my own family's migration story, including the fact that the last several years of my life have been a migration in which I sought out opportunities that led me farther and farther from my "home."  I also thought that maybe I should mention my work with Hispanic migrants as a justification for why I was there.  But instead I sat quietly and listened, only speaking to ask clarifying questions since I'm still not familiar with a lot of areas in this region.

It was an incredibly powerful experience to hear the thoughts of the people who are so strongly affected by immigration policy, yet who are routinely excluded from the conversation.  It was also very challenging.  Farm workers are, as a general rule, the most uneducated group of migrants.  The men at my table were all mumblers, and had a hard time articulating their thoughts.  Maybe they're not used to being asked about their experiences and opinions.  And maybe they would have been more comfortable sharing if I wasn't present.  

These men were too young to have been Braceros (click here to learn more about the Bracero program, which ended in 1964).  However, they knew about the plight of the Braceros, including the current struggle for these now elderly men to reclaim the 10% of their wages that went to the Mexican government.  They also unanimously said that another Bracero (or general guest worker) program would be beneficial, although Carlos told us that a survey of the farm workers a decade ago had the complete opposite finding.  

It was really interesting to see the way our 30 minute conversation went.  We started by talking about why the men migrated.  Then we talked about the problems that they face: low wages, long hours, a complete lack of health care, discrimination, separation from family, a lack of English skills, etc.  Many of them mentioned problems accessing Social Security because if their contractors didn't file the correct papers with the government, it looks like they've never worked.  They also talked about how there is less and less farm work to be done due to the increase of technology.  However, after going through all of the problems, all of the men agreed that things are way better for them than they would be if they had stayed in Durango.  They are very, very poor, yet they feel blessed to have work and food and clean water, which many of them said they did not have before migration.  

Much to my initial dismay, they didn't want to talk about current immigration policies with me after we finished.  I mentioned that I've been living in Georgia for the past two years, hoping to get a reaction to the state's anti-immigrant legislation.  I also brought up Obama's recent announcement that deportations would end for people who would qualify for the DREAM Act.  I had to take a step back and realize that normally when I'm talking about this stuff, it's either with people who are exactly like me or with immigrants who are more directly affected by those particular policies (aka people who are undocumented).  

As I was reflecting on this as I was leaving, I couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of seeing this sign in the lobby:

Today I spent 3 hours on a tele-conference regarding childhood obesity in the U.S. and Mexico.  There were people on the line from border state health departments, the NIH, the CDC, PSI, and several health institutes in Mexico.  The guy in charge of IT for my office was in charge of progressing the slides for the 6 presenters, so it was really cool to sit in our big boardroom with him.  The presentations were all interesting, and it was cool to hear the brainstorming that took place about how to create public health interventions.  I feel so privileged to be at the literal epicenter of border health this summer!  And now I'm even more pumped to begin my pregnancy-associated nutrition internship at the CDC when I get back to Atlanta! 

Oh, I finally got the first installment of my grant on Wednesday!  The check was dated May 22, but they mailed it to the wrong address.  Better late than never! :)

The adventures continue

I'm back in El Paso after a beautiful four-day weekend in Philadelphia for the wedding of two of my best friends from college.  It was a whirlwind, and now I'm exhausted, but it was incredible to see so many wonderful SJU folks in a celebration of love and friendship.

I feel like such a loser talking about the weather in my blog, but another major bonus of being in Philadelphia was soaking in the refreshing air.  The high temperature on Saturday for the wedding was 79º and there was just enough humidity for my skin to soak in a little of the moisture that it has been missing so much.  Unfortunately, when I landed in El Paso last night and checked the weather, this is what I found:

Anyway, this morning I went over to Ciudad Juárez to do observations of prenatal care visits.  I left my house at 7am to walk downtown and over the Stanton Street bridge (which is only one-way...weird!)  Then my bud Goreti picked me up and brought me to the hospital for 8am.  I went into the prenatal care clinic and got settled, trying to figure out what I needed to do as I fought sleepiness.  Thank goodness people are so accommodating to the silly gringa.  They evidently thought I was going to observe all the appointments this morning, when in fact I was only trying to observe the ones for the women enrolled in my study (who I've already interviewed).  Two of the five women in my study did not have appointments this morning, so I asked if I could look at their medical charts.  One of them gave birth 10 days ago and the other one either didn't show up for her latest prenatal care visit or was referred elsewhere.  The charts were absolute disasters- a mixture of hand-written and typed notes in no logical order.  I asked the director if I could write the women's phone numbers down so I could contact them myself and she looked at me like I had 5 heads...Of course you can take down the women's personal information when HIPAA doesn't exist. 

I ended up observing two of the three anticipated visits this morning.  Evidently the other woman just didn't show up.  For the second of the two appointments, I had to go over to the hospital next door to ask the director of urgencias if the patient had been admitted because we couldn't find her chart.  The patient had been admitted, but it was a week ago, so she sent me back to the clinic to tell them to look again.  I arrived just in time to find the patient (along with her chart) halfway through the visit.  

I finished up at the hospital by 10am and luckily had my handy-dandy Mexican cell phone to text Goreti for a ride back to the bridge.  There was an obnoxiously long line for U.S. citizens, but at least there's shade on this particular bridge.  Funny story: some random woman told us that there was a third "middle" line for U.S. citizens, so I walked down with a small group of women.  When we got to the official, he told us that we were mistaken.  I was prepared to walk back to the end of the line (which had grown significantly longer in the 5 minutes that I gave up my spot), but one of the women in my little group decided we should all cut the woman who gave us incorrect information.  This involved some arguing with both the woman and the other people in line behind her, but the leader of our little group of strangers wouldn't give up.  The line only took about 40 minutes to get through, and the time passed quickly because a cute abuelita asked me to use my phone to look up places in El Paso where she might be able to buy colostomy bags.  My life cracks me up.  Here's a picture of the line I was in- the little door at the end of the makeshift tunnel is where you enter customs, and it takes about 10 more minutes from there to swipe your passport (twice!) at fancy machines, talk to an agent about where you're going and where you've been, and then get your stuff scanned through an x-ray machine (no pictures are allowed in the building though):

I'm starting to get a little nervous about the progress of my study.  I leave El Paso 8 weeks from today and only have 1/3 the number of necessary participants enrolled.  I was supposed to start up at a second hospital in Juárez this week, but that was pushed back to July 9.  I received word that I was officially approved at the first hospital in El Paso that was giving me problems, but that doesn't help me at all since none of the women I'm working with so far are planning on delivering there.  Last week, after much tribulation, I received all my blood results and background check for the hospital that's giving me the most trouble in El Paso, so hopefully I'm approved there before the end of the month.  More than anything, though, I need the OBs on the El Paso side to refer more women to me.  They have all expressed that it's been difficult finding women who are giving birth for the first time before August 1, but I kind of suspect that the study isn't their top priority, either.  If things start moving along, I should be okay- I just don't want to be scrambling for interviews during my last two weeks of work.  One day at a time, I guess...

At the fence

What a weekend!

On Friday evening after work, I went to a fundraiser at Paso del Norte Civil Rights Project (aka where Tom works).  They had food, beverages, and salsa lessons on their beautiful back patio- it was a great way to kick off the weekend.

Yesterday morning, I hung out with a School Sister of St. Francis for a while, chatting about the future of the Catholic Church.  She showed up with a bunch of food because 5 nuns are staying at my house this week for a retreat, and she's acting as their hostess.  After a great conversation, I ended up talking to a professor of gender studies from Valdosta State who's staying in El Paso for the summer.  She's known my landlord for a while, so she was over to clean our kitchen with him.  We chatted about women's health for about two hours.  Have I mentioned that I love my house?

After sitting outside for 20 minutes in the 100 degree sun to correct my tan lines for the wedding I'm in on Saturday (great success!), one of my roommates and I went over to the Anapra border fence:

Anapra is one of the poorest neighborhoods of Ciudad Juárez.  I took this picture while standing in Sunland Park, New Mexico.  This was the first time I've actually seen "the fence."  As I've mentioned before, in El Paso, the border between the U.S. and Mexico is the trickle of water referred to as the Rio Grande in the United States (people in Mexico call it the Rio Bravo).  However, as you can see in the map below, the river continues going north, so the border between the countries becomes a land border as soon as you go west of El Paso:

This is probably a good time to mention that "the fence" looks different all along the U.S.-Mexico border, with several places, especially in Arizona, having a structure that looks more like a concrete wall.  The fence at Anapra looks pretty similar to the chain-link fence in my backyard in Massachusetts, minus the fact that it's a few feet taller.  The tall poles that you see have cameras on top of them, and the car tracks are from the Border Patrol cars that closely monitor the area.  

When my roommate and I arrived at the fence, at least 3 Border Patrol cars pulled up immediately to check out what we were doing.  Then the kids who live in Anapra closest to the fence came out to greet us.  My roommate had met them the week before, and once Border Patrol realized that we were there to just hang out with the kids, they backed off a few hundred yards.  

The reason we went to the fence was because my roommate had met a little girl who wasn't wearing shoes last week, so she wanted to return with shoes for her and candy for the rest of the kids that live in the area.  She threw the stuff over to the kids before we realized that parts of the fence have large gaps that would have allowed us to just pass the things through.  

The whole experience made me extremely uncomfortable.  First, I was convinced we were going to get arrested because it seems like throwing things over the fence is probably illegal (however, I've asked about 80 people and so far everyone has said it is only perhaps an offense committed against Customs in Mexico because goods entered the country without being inspected).  More than anything, though, I was uncomfortable being a part of a system of utter dependence.  The houses of Anapra and Sunland Park are like 100 yards apart, and both areas are clearly quite poor.  However, lots of visitors to the El Paso area visit the fence, and the kids on the Mexico side come out and ask for things from the gringos.  We all know that it's not solving anything to give the kids un dolar or shoes or candy, but maybe it makes some people feel less guilty about the privilege of standing on the U.S. side of the fence by giving something to the other side.  

There were 5 kids there when I was visiting; 2 girls and 3 boys, all between the ages of 6 and 12.  I would've loved to have grabbed a ball and play volleyball over the fence, or to chat about what the kids are learning in school, or basically to have done anything.  But instead the girls asked me for literally everything imaginable: my sunglasses, my earrings, my cell phone, my shoes, money, etc.  They were super whiny, which actually made me feel less guilty about saying "no."  It was just awkward to realize that these children have been raised to consistently ask the gringos who go to the fence for things.  I can't blame them, or their parents even.  And I could go into a whole rant about the long-term implications of building of the border fence and NAFTA and whatnot, but that still wouldn't make me feel any less uncomfortable with the situation.  So we only stayed for about 20 minutes before heading back home.

I was very grateful to go out to dinner with the Border Servant Corps volunteers and one of the girls' (Ali) parents right after this experience.  And I was even more grateful to go swimming and in the hot tub at the hotel where Ali's parents were staying.  That's the first time I had been swimming since last August, which is crazy to think about since I went to the beach every weekend for most of August 2010-July 2011 while I was living in Savannah!

Anyway, yesterday morning I went to the Catholic Church that sits in the Segundo Barrio, which is basically like being in Mexico, El Paso.  It's the area closest to the downtown bridge that I often cross to access Juárez, and the streets there are lined with little tiendas selling cheap clothes and goods and blasting music in Spanish.  I love walking around the neighborhood, and it was cool to be there to worship, too.  Two of my roommates, both of whom are not Catholic, came with me, which was really nice.  The church is run by Jesuits and only has Mass in Spanish.  The service was good and the building itself is absolutely beautiful (minus the fact that it still has the old style very white statues of Jesus and the saints around the inside...that always kind of creeps me out and makes me uncomfortable, especially in a room where I'm one of two Caucasians).

Yesterday afternoon, I went to the Pax Christi showing of Inside Job.  If you haven't seen it, I recommend that you do.  

When I got home, one of my roommates had cooked an incredible dinner of tilapia, mashed potatoes, mango salsa, and salad.  We all ate together and then greeted the 5 sisters who will be staying at our house for the remainder of the week.  

I'm so grateful to be here, especially on weekends like this one! :)

Crossing the one-month threshold

Today, as I started whining to yet another friend about the fact that I still haven't received my first paycheck (insert muttering about the bureaucracy of government), I realized that this Saturday will mark my fifth week in El Paso! Crazy!

Yesterday was a frustrating day.  I felt like such a foreigner here.  First, when I got on the bus to go to the hospital, the driver didn't want to let me use my student pass because he had never heard of Emory University. I calmly explained to him that I called the Sun Metro headquarters and that as long as I attend an accredited university within the United States, I am allowed to use a student pass.  It was awkward because I'm not quite sure he believed that Emory was a real place, even though I showed him my ID that says "public health student."

Then I got to the health department to get my TB test (which is one of about 7 tests I need in order to get this crazy hospital clearance).  After being told to go to four different clinics within the department, I finally ended up at the right place:

The woman at the front desk could not seem to understand (1) why I had a Massachusetts license, (2) why I needed a TB test if I didn't have any of the risk factors, or (3) why I didn't want an HIV test.  The test was $9, and since I only had exactly $9 in my wallet I asked if I could pay with a check.  The woman said yes, and then like 15 minutes later called me back up to the desk to tell me that they couldn't accept checks from out-of-state banks.  I explained that I have Bank of America, but since my parents' address is on the top left, she said it wouldn't work there.  Super strange.  Luckily I had the cash though; otherwise I would have made the 30 minute bus trip there for no reason.  

From there, I walked over to the hospital that is causing me all of this stress to get titers drawn.  Yes, that's right; in addition to wanting to know that I've gotten all my vaccines (and that I've had chicken pox), they want to see proof from blood work that I have active immunity.  On Tuesday, I had to get a lab order from my primary care physician in Massachusetts and then call my insurance company to find out where to get my blood drawn in Texas.  Then I went to the lab yesterday, where the registration woman looked at me like I had a million heads.  She didn't understand "why I was from Massachusetts but had Blue Cross Blue Shield of New England" (it took all of my strength not to laugh out loud when I realized she was serious) and she also told me about five different times that she couldn't find my doctor's name (you know, the one in Massachusetts...) on the hospital database.  Finally, she just looked at me and said, "I don't get it. Why are you even here?"  It seemed like a kind of long-winded story to tell the random woman at the hospital why I'm in El Paso and why I don't have anything, other than a library card and gym membership, that says I technically live here.  Therefore, I simply said "To get my blood drawn."  It was finally all taken care of, so hopefully the results will be okay and will make it from this hospital to my doctor (who has to read them), back to my office, and then back to this same hospital so that they finally let my study "begin."

It's weird being in a place, really for the first time in my life, that doesn't attract many people "from the outside."  In my little bubble of El Paso, no one is actually from here; however, in the city as a whole, it seems that most people have either lived here or within like a 50 mile radius for their whole lives.

Anyway, things are honestly going well other than this little mishap with my study.  On Monday, I submitted my one-month progress report to the people funding my project.  On Tuesday, I had my best prenatal care observation/interview yet.  This morning I presented the "emerging themes" from my first five interviews on each side of the border to my advisor at Emory and to the professor at BU who we're working with, and they both told me that they're really impressed with everything.  Then, later this afternoon, I did my first postpartum interview with a woman, which went really well.  And I got to meet her beautiful newborn daughter, which is always exciting!  That's definitely the coolest part about my study- hearing how women are feeling before they go into labor and then talking to them after it's all over and they're holding their baby in their arms :)

Sunday Juárez adventures

This weekend was a wonderful change of pace for me.  On Friday, after I almost cried at my desk 10 different times because of all these problems related to my hospital clearance, it was really nice to go straight from work to happy hour.  I met lots of people who are in El Paso for a variety of different, though equally quite interesting, reasons.  Then yesterday I slept in, went to the gym, did a bit of transcribing, and went grocery shopping before going out.  It was definitely a good day to just recover from a long (yet only 4-day) work week.

This morning, Eric (one of my roommates) and I got up early to head over to Juárez.  We all went to bed really late last night, and it was ridiculously hot today (102º!), but even under non-ideal circumstances it was a great day.

We visited Peter and Betty.  As I mentioned recently, Peter is a Carmelite priest (he's turning 89 in two weeks!) and Betty is a Sister of Mercy (I think she's in her late 70s).  They're both American but have been living in Ciudad Juárez for 17 years.

Eric and I stopped at a bakery to pick up some doughnuts and piña empanadas in El Paso before crossing the downtown bridge into Juárez.  Then we walked a few blocks to downtown Juárez, where we took a bus to near where Peter and Betty live.

(I should probably mention here that Eric knows Juárez really well.  He's lived in El Paso for the past 3 years and has regularly hung out in Juárez during that time.  I should also probably mention that public transportation in Juárez is very safe.  Peter explained that because the violence is related to drugs, and because people who are involved in the drugs have money to buy cars, the people who ride the public buses tend to be outside of the group of people being targeted.  He says that in his 17 years in Juárez, he thinks maybe 2 or 3 people have been killed on public transportation.  But don't worry- I still wouldn't go to Juárez without someone who is very familiar with the area, and I certainly wouldn't ride the bus alone.)

Anyway, Eric and I arrived at Peter and Betty's just in time for our 9:30 breakfast date with them.  We ate and chatted and then Betty gave me a tour of their little compound, which they call Casa Tabor.  (My apologies for not having pictures- I only brought my passport and a very small amount of pesos across the border today...it was such a treat not having to lug around a bag full of the stuff for my study, and I wanted to aprovechar the simplicity.)

Their home is humble but still really nice.  It's full of books about Latin America, and the walls are lined with pictures of martyrs.  Outside, they have a chicken coop, a labyrinth, and a covered area that Betty uses for the autoestima seminars that she does with women in the community.  On the walls of the latter area, there are beautiful paintings that Betty did that surround lists of names.  There's a list of the women who have been killed in Juárez, a list of the men who have been killed in Juárez, a list of people who have died crossing the border in Arizona, and a list of Latin American martyrs.  The lists are nowhere near complete, but they are all still ridiculously long.  She's working on adding to the list of men who have been killed in Juárez, so she asked me to help by writing a few names for her.  She has a list printed from a computer, so my task was to use that and then copy some of the names down onto the wall using a permanent marker.  I only wrote about four names before she said it was time to go to church...she must have known that it would only take about 5 minutes for me to feel completely overwhelmed by grief.  Looking at all those names, thinking about all the nearly unthinkable suffering that is happening...it honestly breaks my heart.  And then I start thinking about the role that the US has in all the violence that's happening...it becomes too much for me to handle, to be honest.

The walk to church was a lot more than I expected.  I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and jeans (have I mentioned how hot it was today?!) because I hate drawing even more attention to my gringa-ness (Mexican women do not wear shorts...and even capris and skirts above the knee are rare) but I decided to wear flip-flops instead of sneakers so that I wouldn't completely over-heat.  What I didn't realize was that although the main roads in Juárez are paved, many of the roads I would walk on today would be dirt covered in rocks, trash, and lots of broken glass.  Oops.  Oh, and none of these side roads are anything close to being flat.  I loved walking around and saying Buenos Dias to everyone, although it was also striking to see all of the abandoned property and the extremely poor-quality housing.  The scenery isn't anything new, but it's weird looking around and seeing that while also being able to clearly see UTEP's beautiful campus just a few miles to the north.  I don't think I'm ever going to get used to the disparities of this border.

Anyway, the church we went to was super small and cute.  Peter said Mass- he's a very progressive guy and gave the type of homily that many of his fellow priests were killed for in Latin America in the 1980s.  Needless to say, I really enjoyed it.  The music was fun and out-of-key, and the community warmly welcomed Eric and I (although it was super awkward having to go up to the microphone to introduce ourselves).  My favorite part was when everyone joined hands to sing the "Our Father."  Normally, people raise their hands up for the very end of the prayer ("For yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever").  However, they raised up their hands during the last line: "líbranos del mal" (it's the "deliver us from evil" part in English, although in Spanish it literally means "free us from evil/badness").  It was super powerful, especially being where we were.  I also really loved that the Mass ended with a prayer for peace in Juárez that everyone in the congregation had memorized.  I haven't enjoyed a Catholic Mass that much in a very long time.

After church, Eric and I walked up a little loma so that we could get a good view of the area.  It was so hot and dry that my mouth felt like sand-paper, and I thought my feet were going to break, but it was so worth it.  We could see almost all of Ciudad Juárez and downtown El Paso, and also had a great view of southeastern New Mexico.  The hill was only maybe 75 feet higher than the surrounding area, but it provided great perspective.

From there, Eric and I went back to Peter and Betty's for lunch.  We had fresh eggs from the chickens and fresh bread that Peter had made.  And I drank so much water.  (Fun fact: the water in Juárez is of a better quality than that of El Paso...the former comes from an aquifer, whereas the latter is basically recycled waste water from further north and tastes like metallic pool water.)  I really enjoyed the conversation- I could probably talk to them forever.

Eric and I headed back to El Paso in the mid-afternoon.  When we were crossing the bridge, we saw five people being deported.  It was quick- the US officials walked the individuals to the actual border, and then the Mexican officials walked them to the repatriation office.  It honestly took me a second to realize what was happening- the only thing that gave it away was that they were walking south on the north-bound side of the bridge.

Tonight I went out to dinner with my all my roommates to celebrate one of their birthdays, and then we had ice cream back here.  I'm really enjoying hanging out with them- Casa Puente was such a perfect place to live for this experience!