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Story Twenty-seven
- University of Arizona Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
Story Twenty-seven B eatriz crossed the border at Sasabe. She traveled alone in the desert for twenty-three days. Injured and with no provisions, she made her way north, drinking water she found in discarded water jugs and eating cactus fruit. Day after day she struggled along looking for others.“I could not believe there were no other people.” Her face was emotionless as she told her story. That her odyssey occurred during early May was her salvation. The killing heat had not yet arrived in southern Arizona. Early in her journey, soon after crossing the border, Beatriz fell. She stepped over a rock, twisted her foot, and fractured bones in her ankle. She tried to hobble along with her group, but it was soon evident that she could not keep up and was slowing them down. They moved on, leaving her with a small amount of food and a bottle of water. “I found a tree limb to use as a bastón,” she said, and leaning on it for support, she continued onward. She passed old campsites where migrants had tossed aside clothes and personal items. At night she lay down in the arroyos and covered herself with the discarded clothing. By day she slowly moved from one campsite to another. These sites are where migrants sleep when the polleros let them rest. The trees provide cover, and there is a lot of green in summertime, a scarcity in the desert. The vegetation provides cooling shade and conceals them from Border Patrol helicopters that fly low over the terrain, skimming the top of the trees. But these beautiful, shady spots are littered with trash. Samaritans hold regular “cleanup” days, on both public and private lands, to help clear the littered, cluttered sites. Every discarded item has a story behind it. Scattered in shrubbery near the half-empty jugs of water, toiletries, and backpacks, there are lacy bras in red and lavender, toothbrushes, deodorant, razors, cologne, and Story Twenty-seven 147 lipstick. There are airline and bus ticket receipts, birth certificates, wedding and family photos.Then there are the diapers, baby clothes, and toddler shoes. I have found Bibles, the Book of Mormon, porno comic books, and toys at these sites. When their ride comes, the migrants leave everything behind. The coyotes pack as many people into a vehicle as possible, but passengers must discard their belongings. The polleros do not want any added weight. Low-riding vehicles would betray them to the Border Patrol. Besides, the passengers are headed for a new life. They anticipate new jobs. No need to cling to the clothes from previous times. The camps that Beatriz passed and where she spent the nights were far from any road, and there were not as many discarded items, just a few pieces of clothing that she took to cover herself against the night chill. Beatriz would scavenge campsites for water left in jugs, no matter how meager the amount. On one occasion she found a charco, a small puddle. To her it did not look filthy, but she got sick after drinking from the stagnant pool. She stayed in that area for about five days hoping someone else would appear. No one did. Foraging for something to eat, she collected the thick, tender young pads of the prickly pear cactus. She would strip off the thorns and eat the juicy green plants, her main source of food. These cactus pads, called nopales, were a staple of the Native American diet for many years. At one point Beatriz came upon a house surrounded by old, rusted cars. She could barely walk and was making no progress. “I called out, then went in the house, and no one was there. I got something to eat from the kitchen, and decided to wait until someone came. Maybe they would help me.” Then she looked at her surroundings. There were photos of men with guns, lots of them. Who lived here? Were they vigilantes or maybe hunters? Unsure of the significance of the photos, she was afraid to remain in the house. It might be a meeting place for some group that hated migrants. She decided not to stay; she would move on and take her chances. Her limping, stumbling journey continued. One night she met two young men on the trail who were headed north. They helped her climb to the top of a ridge where they pointed out lights in the distance; this gave her hope...