Working with Immigrants in Arriaga, Chiapas

Where to begin, where to begin?

Well, I guess I´ll begin with the fact that I have always wanted to visit Mexico´s southern most state, Chiapas. The Zapatista movement takes place here, and has long been the epicenter for indigenous rights here in Mexico, as 1 in 4 of the population here is indigenous of some kind. Mayan making up the majority I believe. In the interest in saving time, you can read about the Zapatista movement here...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ezln
Anyways, I´ve longed to come to this state for some time. So when we left from Salina Cruz (where we had stayed the night since the haul from San Jose del Pacifico began to take a toll on our energy)and entered Chiapas I felt a thrill of excitement, a recognition that a dream of mine had become reality. We were on our way to Arriaga. A small town of around 40,000 about four hours a way from the Guatemalan border. What brought me here was a desire to volunteer. Here in Arriaga, cargo trains pass though from Guatemala to the north. It is the route of immigrants from all over central and south america. No matter where you come from, or where you are going, if you go ¨al norte¨ you will pass through Arriaga.

While in Guadalajara, one of my student´s father approached me after class. He asked if I could translate a document for him, in which I gladly did. I found that this research report pertained to human rights for immigrants passing through Mexico. I had studied this topic in depth, and had even wrote a thesis on it while in college. So when I met with Lalo again, I asked him how I could get in touch with someone in order to do some sort of volunteer work. Lalo, who is a professor at the University of Gaudalajara, gave me some great contacts. One of which was an immigrant shelter in a small town in southern Chiapas called ¨Arriaga.¨ From there on I planned to make my way to Arriaga to see if I could be a volunteer.

When we arrived to Arriaga (with heat to what I imagine to be a Georgia summer) we made our way to Casa Migrante. The experience there was a little weird. The padre was not there and we were welcomed, sort of, but two guys who seemed to be in charge. A couple of strange individuals I must say. They left us for a couple of hours and told us to wait for the Padre. Well, we then met a local guy named Santiago. He sensed our impatience and sympathized by taking us around Arriaga in his car, then to dinner. He offered us his house to sleep in. Which, as travelers on a budget, is a hard bargain to pass up. We were not contacted by the shelter, as they told us they already had a volunteer and wouldn´t need us. Though I find it strange that a ´volunteer´ be turned away. But, whatever. Just being there was a surreal experience, seeing 300 immigrants from all over Latin America sleeping under the train and finding any sort of shade to pass the time until the train departed.

We decided to be proactive and continue following our desire to help, and actually turned the experience into something unforgettable, one that probably would have been better than cleaning toilets and washing dishes at the casa migrante.

We stayed with Salvador for three or four days. During the day, despite the heat, Tama and I made several trips to the market where for around 50 (about $4 USD) pesos we would buy 15 or so small waters or juice, as well as two or three kilos of bananas. We spent our afternoons walking the traintracks of Arriaga handing out the supplies and talking with the immigrants. Now, I often comment on our incredible an experience was yada yada yada. But seriously, this is one that will forever be lodged in my memory as one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life. We talked with people from El Salvador, Nicaragua, Honduras, Cuba, Guatemala, etc. about what they had been through, their experiences, and what their hopes were for the future. We talked with people who were making their first trip, with people who were making there 14th and 15th trip. People who had been robbed, beaten up, people who had walked for 11 days shirtless to get to the traintracks. The first day, we met a group of guys from all over who were traveling together for protection. They told us about the scariest leg of their journey, which was from Tapachula (the border town to Guatemala) to just south of Arriaga. This area is heavily occupied by Mara Salvatrucha and Zeta gang members who board the train with intentions to rob rape and hurt people. They were a genuine group, buenas personas looking for a better life for themselves and their family. One 14 year old boy, making his second or third trip, told us about a teenage girl who had fallen off the train a few years earlier. She had fallen between the cargos and the train had cut her in half. The journey had taken her life, as well as the life of her unborn baby. His eyes held the terror and sorrow he felt at that particular moment.

In summary, working with these immigrants was a gift. A gift that I will never forget. Likewise for them, since many of them had wondered what the hell a gringo and a norteña was doing in Arriaga helping immigrants. I wonder if they will tell our story, as I am telling theirs.

It filled my heart was happiness to be with these people, to assist them, to listen to them. It got my mind brainstorming of all the possibilities of charity and or other opportunities I could establish for a permanent assistance to these people. I will never forget their faces, nor their appreciation of what we were doing. It was truly a dream come true for me. Watching over 300 immigrants from all across the continent sitting atop a cargo train with hopes of a better future is surely a sight I´ll never forget. Waving at us as they get ready to leave is more of a motivation than anything. Now, I need to figure out how to make my assitance more powerful and more permanent.

(the pictures are not so good as we had only taken photos the last day, in which most immigrants had left on the departing train, my apologies.)