Some thoughts from the Nogales border

I've been in Nogales along the US-Mexico border for the last few days, listening to the stories of migrants who have recently been deported from the United States. In the best of cases, their personal stories are heartbreaking. Poverty and/or violence have forced them to leave their homes. Central American migrants without papers then struggled with the uncertainty of traveling through Mexico. Some suffered abuse at the hands of authorities, others at the hands of the mafia.

Crossing the border was more difficult than they imagined. This was the case even for those who had made the trip years ago. The coyotes were hopped up on illegal drugs and simply running through the desert. They could not keep up. Coyotes warned the migrants of a four day hike through the desert up towards Tucson, only to then say eight days once they were underway. The migrants did not have enough food or water to survive the surprise change in schedule. After a few days of walking, they turned themselves in to border authorities. When they arrived at KBI's comedor, they were in a bit of shock. They arrived in rough shape, physically and emotionally. Some shaking, some crying.

They then had hours, or maybe a few days, to decide whether to try one more time to cross the border or to return home after deciding that the trip was just not worth it. This went for people who had lived in the United States for years, even decades, as well as for those who were traveling to the US for the first time.