What I Learned Being Part of the Sanctuary Caravan
By Jodie Evans, Salon
04 January 19
We saw an outpouring of generosity for the people most hurt by our
oppressive immigration policy
December was the month CODEPINK: Growing a Local Peace Economy was
dedicating our outreach and organizing to being an ally for the asylum
seekers who had just arrived in and around Tijuana below the U.S. San Diego
border.
CODEPINK's Local Peace Economy was created to focus on the disasters that
will occur as a result of global inequality, climate change, constant war.
Not to mention all the money that funds war (including $1.4 trillion in
weapons sold each year) that should be alleviating human suffering instead
of creating it. We have gathered every month for the past few years,
learning about the values of a peace economy, practicing them together,
deepening our relationship and trust, and weaving a community of those who
invest their time and energy in the practices of peace locally. Last month,
we reached out to our friends to ask for donations supporting asylum
seekers, and the outpouring of generosity that resulted was overwhelming.
By overwhelming, I mean we started as the idea of a few cars driving down to
take what we collect. But as four rooms at my home and the CODEPINK house
filled, we realized we needed a truck. We learned from others that taking
that much across the border would be taxed, so we reached out for more cars
to help us ferry all we collected across the border. It took five hours to
organize the donations and fill the truck on Friday night at the end of
December.
At 8:00 am on Saturday our caravan of support headed south. People trusted
us with their generous support, so we were very careful to research and make
sure it got where it was most needed. In the process, we learned how much is
given and how much is needed. We are part of the coalition Sanctuary
Caravan, an amazing organization that works as a hub of information and
connection for asylum seekers. Those who have free time, however long - a
few days, a week, a month - can connect immediately to efforts to help
asylum seekers.
The situation in Tijuana is always in motion. Supporting almost 10,000
people in a process that is long, legal, complex and set up to fail for them
is no easy task. Each story is powerful, heart-wrenching and complicated.
Because we had done a collection and were not coming down to volunteer, we
decided not to burden the Sanctuary Caravan team and instead would figure
things out ourselves. Arriving at the border, we learned about Op
Carrito/granny cart. This is a group of 91 volunteers who work on both sides
of the border to get supplies across and to those who need them. People show
up in a parking lot at the pedestrian entrance and others with granny carts
fill them up and cross, back and forth, with those working the Tijuana side
there to pick up and deliver.
It is beautiful. Generous. And a peace economy. We filled up six cars and
headed across; Shauna, who lives in San Diego and was part of the early days
of CODEPINK in Minnesota, took all the food as there is constant and
desperate need for food. She knew just where to deliver it.
The rest of us crossed and met at Enclave Caracol, a hub for those in need
and those offering. Read more about them in Kelly's blog. At Enclave you get
a glimpse of how much there is to do and how much is being coordinated.
Volunteers arrive from around the world and are dispatched. Locals serve as
translators and guides. We were assigned Monica, who immediately went to
work finding out the morning intelligence on who needed what. Clothes were
needed at El Barretal, which is 45 minutes south, at a concert venue where
about 5,000 of the asylum seekers are outside in tents. A local Tijuana
resident - Angie, a transplant from Oklahoma - drove the clothes down as we
needed to do deliveries nearby to get across the border for another batch.
Little did we know that crossing the border was a multi-hour experience.
With the heartbreaking sight of women and children begging outside our
windows for the hours, we crawled along. We were all crying as we met at the
U-Haul. We loaded up with what we learned was needed at the youth center;
they had 40 boys and needed blankets and coats.
Cars filled to the brim, we set out again. GPS is sketchy in Tijuana, so we
drove around lost for 45 minutes and finally connected with our guide Paula
Kahn, former CODEPINK team member who helped produce the Iraq Tribunal.
Paula has been in Tijuana for the entire month. She guided us to a delicious
place for dinner and mescal. Our first meal of the day we finally felt
nourished, and all three cars headed to the boys. It was late but they were
excited to let us in and quickly unloaded the supplies with joy and hugs for
all. There are too many sad stories from these boys to share here, and it's
not my place to do so, but they captured our hearts.
The next morning we were up at 7 to pack up for the next border cross,
thinking that early would be easier. But it was still a long wait; this time
those begging or offering wares at our windows had stories of being from the
U.S. and the victims of ICE. No money, no way to get a job and families to
feed. We arrived at the U-Haul parked at Denny's, cleaned out our cars of
anything personal, and filled them to the brim with the last load, mostly
toys for kids, coats, socks, medicines, toiletries and blankets. There was a
shout out early in the morning from San Diego Rapid Response that they were
in desperate need for clothes for the 159 coming out of ICE later in the
day, so we left the clothes behind in the truck. We arrived at Instituto
Madre in a neighborhood on a hill.
We were greeted with excitement and open arms. We learned that 40 families
had just left for the ICE holding in San Diego, so there were only 80
families now, but the facility is meant for 40. The women and children
living there were in need of everything. But the toys were the biggest hit
with the kids and the jackets with the mothers. It is cold at night, and we
could see that warmth was a huge need. We stayed for about an hour, learning
stories, getting interviews and watching the kids play.
We had to get to the border in time to get the clothes in the truck to Our
Lady of Guadalupe, the site ICE does the drop-off at north of the border. We
moved our personal items, and I drove the truck to Our Lady. It was super
organized. They were waiting for us; we had been in touch all day through
the multitudes of Facebook and WhatsApp threads used to share information
about the border activities. Volunteers were there to unload, and their
thrill at the fact that we had new men's shoes sent chills up my spine. I
thought of the stories the Local Peace Economy members had shared about what
they bought and why, and how the thoughtfulness was experienced by those
receiving - how it is a continuum.
Finally, the truck was totally empty, and all of it had made it into the
hands of those who needed it. I thought about the practices of the peace
economy - relational and not transactional - and how we who did the delivery
were between two commitments of relationship. One was those whom we wanted
to support directly; and then the other was those who had gone to the effort
to collect what we asked for that filled the truck, who trusted us to
deliver it as we had promised. All this in the month we were offering our 21
days of gifting peace and love. Midday Sunday we were trashed, but it was
the commitment between both that kept us going with energy, laughter and
enthusiasm. And it was the joy in those receiving that gave back to us the
energy in the end. It was a reminder we are all connected, and when we give,
there is a ripple between giver and receiver, and what remains is that power
of connection and responsibility. Not as a burden, but as a way of life that
is so nourishing. We all felt it. Sore backs, bandaged fingers and all.
There are many stories we heard from those we met that they asked us not to
share. They all feel very vulnerable: From the hell of El Barretal and 5,000
living in mud and cold with no water and little else, to the horror stories
of rape and murder, to the stories of the hell inside of the ICE holding
facility where they are kept for 4-9 days without showers or warmth and then
released to Our Lady to the arms of so many volunteers, the first stop the
clinic as most are sick and many with lice. After Kelly's first trip, she
asked what do we do for the heartache and PTSD after spending a few days
there. I broke down today and cried for about an hour, without stopping.
From the individual stories, we saw the systems of oppression and the
effects of the war economy and wondered what kind of world we live in that
we treat other human beings this way - all this juxtaposed to the amazing
outpouring of generosity and support.
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