Mission Possible - Friday

Our group!

The ride home.

Read more!

Mission Possible - Thursday

At devotions on trips, we each share our high and low of the day and where we saw God. This is a sampling of Thursdays devo. It was a busy day for us today. All of our travel groups did different things. Some of us did manual labor, others painted faces and filled water balloons, some stocked food pantry shelves, others learned about addiction and recovery. Most of us got lost on the road. But all of us made it back to the church for our closing worship service and ice cream sundae party.

Highs of the Day

• Working at Rainbow Place (apartment housing for homeless mothers and children.) - Holly


• Organizing books at Project Rainbow. - Becca


• The swimming pool. - Hayden


• Working with the kids at the Chester YWCA Fun Fair.


• Hanging out in the park during lunch.


• Working with the kids at Chester Eastside Ministries, playing basketball with playdough buckets. - Michael H.


• The movie game at the pool. - Cameron


• Working and talking to people at City Team and the Pool. - Griffin.


• Seeing Ridge trying to do a back flip into the pool and making it 3/4 way around.

Lows of the Day

• Getting lost and driving to New Jersey.


• Seeing how little the kids we were working with had. - Michael H.


• Our fender bender. - Hayden


• Riding in the car. - Wilson

Where we saw God

• The blind secretary and the people about to graduate from the addiction recovery program at City Team. - Molly


• In Becca.


• In Jeremy. (Who doesn't?)


• In the kids making collages at Paschall Apartments. - Hannah R.


• In Mr. Sweat from Cornerstone School. (He let us sign the inside of his shed.)


• In the kids from a rough neighborhood who talked with us. - Cameron.


• In the way people worked and cared.


• In hearing the life story of Keith (a recovering addict) at City Team and the way God is working in his life. - Hayden, Austin, Griffin.


• In the kids at the YWCA. - Wilson


• In John, the Program Director at Chester YWCA and how he is committed to doing a lot with a little. - Shelli

Note to the peeps on the trip: If I did not cite your name, it is because I couldn't remember who said it. If you leave me a comment, I'll fix it. Same thing goes if I cited you for something you did not say. - Shelli

Read more!

Mission Possible - Wednesday

Becca– On Wednesday morning we began our day with waking up early enough for our first showers of the week. (3 minutes of glory!) Finally feeling clean after our first day of work, we began another day of service. With packed lunches, water bottles and helping hands, (Well, we didn’t pack our helping hands. We already had them and took them with us.) we ran down to the train station only to begin our day with disappointment. (80 three minute showers took longer than we thought.) As we watched the train pulled away from the station we were not in very high spirits. But everyone soon changed ideas with a game of capture the flag and a few doughnuts.

Not long after, we arrived at our first destination, The African-American Museum. We toured the three main exhibits where we learned about African culture. We began with learning about Kimmet, Nubia, and Aksum. These were nations along the Nile river. They were very early civilizations that have impacted our world today with their pyramids, sphinx, and hyrogliphics. Then we learned about ndeble art, created by African women. Lastly, we had an opportunity to design our own art. We used crayons and markers to draw ndeble art (lots of lines and houses) onto African skirts.

After lunch in Franklin Square Park (complete with wiffle ball, soccer, putt-putt, balloon animals, and Harry Potter reading time), we went to Broad Street Ministries. Broad Street Ministries is a church that closed down six years about after losing its congregation. It reopened almost two years about. We were assigned three different jobs to help in preparation of the No Barriers Dinner. We passed our orange cards to strangers along the street inviting business people, college students, homeless people, and other passers-by. We also helped set-up tables, and we helped make pasta salad by cutting vegetables. Our third activity was taking a tour of the building and the surrounding neighborhood. We experienced first-hand the diversity of the neighborhood.

But we were exposed to even more diversity at dinner.

Ridge – On Wednesday night, we had a No Barriers dinner, and that’s when we helped host a dinner for anyone that wants to come. For the dinner, we passed out the cards that Becca talked about, which had the time and place of the dinner. I totally beasted at passing out cards and made 4 personal friends. We had such a great time talking to and meeting the people.

…………………..

We were the hosts for the dinner. This was the first time they served the meal family style. We brought the food to the tables and then sat and talked to the people at our table. After that we had a worship service in Broad Street Ministry’s super cool sanctuary. (It’s old and a little crumbly. Windmills hang from wires along the ceiling. And paper birds with prayers written on them fly between the windmills.)

Just as we thought our feet would fall off, we made it back to the train, back to the church, and back to our sleeping bags. Read more!

Mission Possible - Tuesday

(Pictures of the Grrrls!, working at Philabundance, and the Phillies game.)

Molly - The morning of our first work day was an interesting one. First we woke up at the wee hour of 7 o’clock. We barely made the train from Swathmore to center city Philly. Arriving in the city we split up into our smaller travel groups. Shelli’s group was the Grrrls! consisting of Coley, Cayla and Sarah (from Harpeth), Hannah C. and Molly (from DCPC). Each one of us had a super power (Hannah-glue, Molly-calming laugh, Sarah-beautiful hair that could also wrap around the ankles of bad guys, Cayla-disappering, Coley-super strong). After discussing our plan with the whole group we went on a prayer walk around Philly.

George - The first work day for me was really fun because I got to do a prayer walk which was like walking around the city of Philly and getting to know the area and seeing what most people do there and praying for different things around the whole city. (We stopped at the Jefferson University Hospital, the Liberty Bell, China Town, City Hall, and prayed beneath the flags on the way to the Art Museum.)

After the prayer walk we worked at Philabundance and packaged food for the hungry in large boxes as a team. (Some of us sorted ice cream and frozen goods. Others sorted boxes of crackers.) At Philabundance, they give out 10,000 pounds of food a week. We sorted more than that ourselves. About half of the ice cream ended up on Becca’s shirt. Right after that we got to go run up and down the steps at the Philadelphia Museum of Art Rocky Balboa style (Italian stallion).

I think the best part of the whole day was going to the Phillies game at their new stadium. Just seeing the excitement change from being outside the stadium to going in and seeing all the fans cheering there team on. We also had really good seats, when the first homerun was hit into the stands it was hit like 10 yards away from where we were sitting. It looked like the ball was in slow motion coming to us and then fell just short of were we were sitting. And some of our group got on the jumbo-tron, which was pretty neat. And then, there was the subway and train rides which were fun cause it was something new to experience cause we don’t have those in Davidson and Charlotte. Read more!

Mission Possible - Monday

First, you should know that our trip kind of started yesterday, Sunday, July 22. Two vans full of youth and their leaders from Harpeth Presbyterian Church in Brentwood, TN rolled in to Davidson about 6:30 PM. They split-up and spent the night with us. So by the time we left today, we already had a couple of new friends.

Our drive to Philly was looooooong - about 12 hours with rush hour gridlock madness in Washington DC and Baltimore. Blaaah. We were a little sick of each other by the time we arrived. But we did have a pretty good time singing, playing Cranium, and driving one another nuts. When we arrived, the youth from Swarthmore were already there - big surprise, they live 5 minutes away. So were the youth from Colesville and Rockville in Maryland. They, along with adults with Swarthmore, had made us a tasty dinner of lasagna, chicken enchiladas, salad, and cookies.

After dinner, we met our travel teams - the group of 5 or 6 youth and adults we would travel with throughout the duration of mission possible. Repeat after me, "I will stay with my travel team on public transportation at all times so that I will not get lost in Philly."

Then we worshipped together and heard all the rules. Once again, "I will stay with my travel team on public transportation at all times so that I will not get lost in Philly . . . oh, and, on penalty of death, I will not reveal any details about the final Harry Potter book."

Armed with our trusty Mission Possible tags and lanyards (with emergency info just in case we got a little misplaced) and our sleeping bags, we headed for bed.

Read more!

Middle School Mission Possible: Philadelphia

We're headed out Monday to join four PCUSA youth groups (Swarthmore in PA, Harpeth in TN, and Colesville and Rockville in MD). There will be 78 youth and adults engaged in mission and mayhem from July 23-27, in Philadelphia, PA. Check out our schedule:

Sunday, July 22 - Our friends from Harpeth Presbyterian Church arrive in Davidson for Slumber Party USA. Their youth will be spending the night at the homes of our youth. Then we'll all get up on Monday and head for Philly together.

Monday, July 23 - We head out for our 9ish hour drive to Philly with our friends from Tennessee. Once we arrive, we'll have dinner cooked by the other youth groups, lots of get to know you games, rules-o-rama, and worship. Then we're off to set-up our bedrooms on the floors of the fellowship hall and youth space.

Tuesday, July 24 - Prayer Walk around Philadelphia, work at Philabundance (http://philabundance.org/) a local food bank, sorting boxes for senior citizens, dinner at Reading Terminal Market (testing the wares of Amish vendors and chowing down on Philly Cheese Steaks), Phillies vs. Nationals Baseball Game. We'll travel everywhere by public transport: trains, subways, busses, and trolleys - oh my.

Wednesday, July 25 - Visit the African American Museum for a tour and talk about the development of hip-hop, lunch in the park, work at Broad Street Ministries (http://www.broadstreetministry.org/), community dinner and worship service at Broad Street Ministries, devotions with our fellow DCPCers. It's another day on the SEPTA (public transport).

Thursday, July 26 - We're working at a ton of different places today. Youth from DCPC will each work at 2 of the following locations: Chester Eastside Ministries (day camp), Chester YWCA (fun fair), City Team (food pantry, clothes closet), Mercy Hospice (cooking), Rainbow Place (preschool and clothes closet), Paschall Apartments (games with children), Cornerstone Christian Academy (hard work), A Better Chance House (more hard work). Then we're eating pizza, having an ice cream sundae party, closing worship with communion, and pool party.

Friday, July 27 - Return home.

We'll try to post this week, so check in to see what we've been up to and where we've seen God in action. Read more!

Can These Bones Live?

Below, you will find my sermon, preached July 15, 2007. This sermon was born out of the experience of my journey with our High School delegation to BorderLinks.

Peace in Christ, Shelli Latham
.................................................................
Can these Bones Live? A Sermon on the Intersection of Ezekiel 37:1-14 and Migration at the Arizona Border.

Two weeks ago, I read this scripture on a hillside, looking down into the valley in Nogales, Mexico. Nogales is a border town, located partially in Arizona and partially in Mexico – halved by a fatigue colored corrugated metal wall, standing on a concrete block, topped with razor wire. I was with the High School delegation that was traveling with an organization called BorderLinks, which studies immigration issues on both sides of the border. On that day we gathered on a narrow set of steps to read from Ezekiel for our morning devotion. We were on the Mexico side of the border – perched on a hill overlooking small cubes of houses lining dirt roads. Power lines ran along the roadside and dipped down to hold hands with the rooflines. Over the solemn quiet of the scripture, the jingle-jangle of the gas and water trucks caught the wind like the sound of the ice cream truck from my childhood.

Before I read the scripture, I asked our group members to listen and to find their place in the story. Were they walking beside the story teller, were they the story teller - the voice prophesying to the four winds to breathe upon these slain, were they the bones? I was perched at the top of the steps. And as my mouth formed Ezekiel’s words, the words seemed to wash over our group. I could almost see them mingle with the memories we’d made in the last few days. I felt like if I stopped reading for just a moment, I could hear them settle into the valley below or shimmy their way into the great uncertainty we’d become so accustomed to.

When I stopped reading, no one said much of anything. A few dared to struggle through finding the words to say where they had seen themselves in the scripture. But as people who had found our stories so unexpectedly entwined with our migrating neighbors, we weren’t entirely certain who we were anymore. Sitting on those steps in our very own skin wearing the same clothes we’d had on two days before, we couldn’t put words around who we were on this day, in this space, and what that meant for who we would be when we made the journey back to US soil. And so mostly, it was quiet. They were looking out onto the dirt colored valley dotted with blue and red and dirt colored houses. But if they were like me, they were seeing miles further.

The valley that was in our line of vision was poor; many places had only had power for a few weeks. The five dollar a day wages that most of the residents in these homes were making working in the maquillas didn’t go very far towards paying for staples like milk which costs roughly $3/gallon, or a dozen eggs, which costs over a dollar or the potable water, that was purchased in 5 gallon containers from the truck that sounded like the ice cream man. A day’s wages might afford a family one gallon of milk, a dozen eggs, and a pound of pinto beans. The valley was poor, but it wasn’t the place where the scripture came to rest in our memories.

“The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry” (v.1-2). I had never known dry until I made this journey from Tucson into Mexico. It was so hot we contemplated baking chocolate chip cookies in our van, fondly dubbed, Carmen the Heat Wagon. It was so hot that as we rolled through the dessert, you could see the rising temperature in the air - wiggly and squiggly heat above the gravely sand, twisting between the cactuses. On the day that we went to Altar, which is about 60 miles from the border and a funneling point for migrants who will cross the border at Sasabe, the temperature reached 120 degrees. That day we visited and spent the night in CCAMYN, a migrant shelter. For minutes that seemed like days, we toured the shelter, ducking into doorways and hopping between shadows. In 120 degrees, I could feel my skin tightening its grip on my body like shrink wrap. My eyeballs were warm in their sockets. It was hot and very dry.

I was slathered in sunscreen under a wide brimmed hat, out in the heat for moments while our migrant friends might journey through it for 3-5 days. So, even there in the shelter courtyard, our minds took us to somewhere dryer. Our minds took us on the journey that the migrants we met were getting ready to make or were returning home from, defeated. Our minds were hanging out with the heat waves in the desert tracing the footsteps of the young man who sat beside us at dinner, eyes filled with fear – the one whose mom thought he was already in the
US because he didn’t want to worry her with the reality of what he had already experienced and what was to come. The border wall elbows its way between these North American neighbors with a large gap in the Sonoran desert. Because this is such a treacherous crossing point, the rationale is that no one will cross there and the border will be sealed. But this plan does not take into account desperation.

Most Mexican workers are not making the $5 per day that the maquillas pay. Their farming jobs are in the US, which continues to subsidize its farmers, while Mexico is not able to do so. People are hungry and tired. They are unable to provide basic food and healthcare for their children and their families. As part of our education, we watched a documentary called Crossing Arizona. In one portion of the documentary, a Native American man, named Mike Wilson, was refilling water stations on the Tohono O’Odham Nation, near Tucson. It is the deadliest stretch of the border as the nation will not provide access to humanitarian organizations for water stations, so Mike Wilson does it himself. While out checking water stations, Mike ran into a migrant who was wandering, lost and afraid. The coyote, he had contracted with to carry him across the border had abandoned their group, and they had scattered. This man was alone and lost in the desert with no food and no water. Mike, who could be arrested for transporting the migrant, convinced him to turn himself into Border Patrol who has a responsibility to provide food and water, at least minimally.

What we did not see in the documentary, Mike shared with us at a later meeting. He asked if the man would try to cross again, and the man said, “yes.” He knew first hand the possibility of death in the desert, but he said he couldn’t go home. He had three choices (1) he could make it to the US and provide for the basic human needs of his family (2) he could die in the desert. The third didn’t seem like a choice to him – to return home where he did not have access to the resources to care for children or his mother who could not afford her treatment for diabetes.

“The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry.” (v. 1-2) And so as we hear this scripture, this is the valley we find ourselves in – a valley filled with hunger and thirst and fear and hope, a valley filled carved out by need and quite literally filled with bones. In 2006, the death count on the US/Mexican border tallied 205, in Arizona alone.[1] (That is about half of the national death toll.) That was a good year due to unusually cool temperatures. Nearly half of those are unknown, many found literally as bones. Each year a worship service is held where the names of the dead are read from white crosses. The list from a year ago this week includes Eliseo Hernandez, male 16; Antonio Hernandez, Male 69; Martha Palomino Velarde, female 56; Olivia Elizabeth Luna Nogueda, female 11, and four unknowns.

And the valley is so big, and the valley is so dry. I sit on that hill and can hear it at my back in growling stomachs and dutiful footsteps heading from home. And I know the secret that those footsteps are going to lead through a dryer valley, which even navigated successfully only leads to exile. I asked the youth to think about where they find themselves in this scripture. As I was reading, I found myself standing in the valley, and God was telling me to prophesy, to say, “O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD. Thus says the Lord GOD to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live.” (v. 4-5) I saw myself standing there, called to speak a word of hope, called to say, “You are not alone.” When the darkness swallows you and the sun beats you down, “You are not alone.” But no words come out. My mouth forms an O but either nothing comes out or the valley is so deep it swallows my sounds before even I can hear them.

This scripture is one of redemption for a broken and exiled community. It is fitting to read it in this space where people come to press their ears against the border wall listening for whisper of hope that is harder to hear at home. I have wrestled with the words to put around all I have learned and experienced. I ache not to be the mute prophet standing in the valley afraid or unable to speak of the redemptive power of God. God walks Ezekiel around the valley, showing him the expanse of the bones, and God asks, “"Mortal, can these bones live?" [He] answered, "O Lord GOD, you know." (v. 3) I like how Ezekiel is evasive, “O Lord God, you know,” sounds and awful lot better than “Why are you asking me, this is a big mess?”

And that’s what we find ourselves in with our current immigration policy – a big mess. While we were across the border, the senate voted to put the immigration bill to rest. Most likely, it will not resurface until the 2008 elections are over as it is territory too dangerous for politicians to tread on while campaigning. In the meantime our hungry and poor neighbors continue to tread on the dangerous territory of the Sonoran desert. I thought initially that my inability to speak was because I couldn’t offer a solution – like I had to single handedly unravel this tangle of US immigration tragedy. But that was bunk. I realized that the words not coming wasn’t confusion but fear. And the words didn’t come because it was easier to just let them lie and hope they became as silent in my heart as they were on my lips. It was easier because to speak of the poverty of our neighbors south of the border meant I had to admit I had a part to play in their plight.

And then I realize that maybe I am the prophet who can’t get her words together, but maybe that is not where I am in the story at all. Maybe I’m one of the zombie bodies, not really alive. The sinews and flesh had come upon them, but there was no breath in them. And maybe I am the bones. Maybe the words don’t come because I have been dried up. Fear and consumption and excess and comfort have wilted my compassion and my resolve that who we are and how we live matters. Maybe I am the bones. And the valley looks different, now. It looks more like the manicured lawns that I walk my dog past each day – many of which are cut by migrant labor. It looks like the land where more is better regardless of the human cost to make things cheap. It looks like a desire for low taxes. It sounds like the word illegal being used as a noun. And this valley is scarier than the other – the one that I saw down in Mexico, the one that I left at the border - because in this valley I have more to lose.

And I am afraid . . . I am afraid to be the bones, afraid that if I just lie here and dry out, I will be nothing more to the earth than a pile of dust. And I am afraid to not be the bones . . . afraid that when the redemptive power of God gets a hold of me and rattles me to the core I will be forced out of this valley and this valley is pretty comfy. I am afraid that when the Spirit of God puts my broken self back together, I might live, and speak, and love as though God is at work in me. And so while I want to be faithful, while I want to be the neighbor like we see in the good Samaritan and not the one who passes on the other side of the ditch pretending that if I don’t see it, it isn’t happening, while I want to be merciful, I am afraid that when these old bones start to really live, what I’ve equated with life might have to change. I am afraid that once I start breathing the breath of God and my lungs are all filled up with the Spirit; those pent up words might come tumbling out.

I know you may be thinking, for a girl with no words, she has an awful lot to say. But the talking is just surface, the real prophesy is the living. While I pray for and fear the breath in my life, I will leave you with some borrowed words. This poem, titled “The Right to Live in Peace,” by Othon Perez, is engraved outside the CAMMYN shelter in Altar. It was translated by our former Moderator of the General Assembly, Rick Ufford-Chase, and is accompanied by a disclaimer, “Here's my rough translation of the poem (unofficial, unauthorized and unchecked by use of a dictionary).”[2]

TO THE FALLEN IN THE DESERTS OF DEATH:
In memory of those who, when seeking a better life,found only death,
In memory of those who risked everything and lost it,
Who went with hope in their eyes and challenge in their souls.

The sun calcified them, the desert devoured them,
and the dust erased their name and their face.

In memory of those who will never return
we offer these flowers . . .
To them, with respect, we say:
Your thirst, is our thirst.
Your hunger, is our hunger.
Your pain, is our pain.
Your discomfort, your bitterness, your agony
Are also ours.

We are a shout that demands justice. . .
In order that No One, ever again, will have toAbandon their lands, their beliefs, their dead, their childrentheir parents, their family, their race, their culture, their identity. . .

We are a silence that has a voice . . .
In order that no one will have to look for their destiny in other lands.
In order that no one will have to go to the desert and be consumed by loneliness.

We are a voice in the desert that cries out:
Education for all!
Opportunity for all!
Work for all!
Bread for all!
Liberty for all!
Justice for all!. . .

We are a voice that the desert cannot drown.

The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, "Mortal, can these bones live?" I answered, "O Lord GOD, you know." (v. 1-3)

...............................................................
[1] See the death count on http://www.samaritanpatrol.org.
[2] http://what-i-see.blogspot.com/2005_04_01_archive.html Read more!

High School BorderLinks - Day 6

Saturday, June 30
Tal Jacobs

Today we woke up and had breakfast with our homestay families. It was one of the best breakfasts I have ever had, with steak ranchero, pancakes, and tortillas. We got up early to help our host families distribute food to deported migrants. Every Saturday the women from our host families prepared food for these migrants. This is an especially valuable service as migrants receive little nourishment while in American custody and are often released back to Nogales during the hottest part of the day. We were able to provide them with solid lunches and a nutritional juice made of melon, milk, and oatmeal.

This activity was a valuable experience because we got to meet a few more migrants and know their stories. It was especially moving to see their condition as they had just arrived from the desert. One group had been walking for days in the desert with little to no water. Another mother and father showed up with their five year old son who they said had not complained once during his two day trek across the desert and two attempts at crossing the border. It was heart wrenching see the sadness coexisting with the innocence in his eyes. I also learned more of the difficulty that migrants face as some guides, called “coyotes,” stopped the migrants that they were leading from getting food. Instead, they gathered them to attempt another cross so that they would receive their money. We also learned first-hand from one man the harsh and abusive nature of the border patrol. Later that day, we met with a government funded organization called Grupo Beta. They worked to provide service and care for deported migrants.

That evening, we had our final reflection amidst the presence of a monumental sculpture by border artists Alberto Morackis and Guadalupe Serrano. It was an original piece of the wall on the border. On either side, men with raw muscle and sinew visible pushed against the wall in various displays of effort. At our reflection, we shared the most impactful moments of the trip and decided what action we were going to take at home to improve the issue of immigration.

One of the most important lessons that I learned from the trip came from a nun named Noemi. She taught us the necessity to treat immigrants as equals. She told us that this was the mission of Jesus, and that we needed to recognize the dignity in every human being. This is how we can love Jesus. Everyone can offer a small solution to problem of immigration. I would also like to emphasize that we learned that migrants by no means want to come to America to steal jobs or do harm. In fact, they want to better our country and return to Mexico for their families and homeland. The only reason that they come is prevent their families from starving. This is why they cross the desert. They would rather die trying to save their family then sit idly and watch their family perish.

Another important thing that we learned was that the economic disparity in Mexico is the result of NAFTA, the North American Free Trade Agreement. Because foreign companies can bring factories into Mexico and produce products tax free, the Mexican government makes no income from taxes. It allows American investors to exploit Mexican markets and prevent Mexico from developing its own stable economy. Additionally, the lack of agricultural subsidies in Mexico and the abundance of them in the U.S. allows American producers to flood Mexican markets that can not compete. Consequently, farmers in Mexico no longer have employment. They are forced to work in maquilas in Mexico or migrate to the United States for jobs.

Read more!

High School BorderLinks - Day 5

Friday (June 29) by Greg Kuras

Friday started with an amazing home-cooked breakfast from our homestay families, including some amazing hotcakes (pancakes) and some carne estada steak and pepper mixture. After breakfast the different homstay groups assembled and headed out to the shelter for repatriated minors to learn about repatriated minors. (That means young people under 18 who have crossed the border and been returned to Mexico.)

We talked to the head man of the program through the question and answer process and learned a lot. From there we left to have lunch at Polita Acuna's house and we ate a terrific lunch while learning a lot about the mequillas (factories in Mexico). We also had apple soda which was interesting yet slightly enjoyable. After that we got to have free time on the playground at the BorderLinks center in Mexico. Tal and Greg played some street futbol with the kids in the neighborhood and Elliott got real sick on the "spinning thing" on the playground. After that we talked with Kiko Trujillo who was very smart and seemed to know a lot. We left for downtown Nogales following the discussion to do some shopping and get ice cream. Then we talked with Noemi Peregrino Gonzales and had dinner with our homestays and went to bed the end.

Read more!

High School BorderLinks - Day 4

Jueves (Altar y Nogales)
Thursday, June 28 - By Elliott HillJennings

Buenos dias de CCAMYN en Altar! Today is my day to blog about or trip in Mexico. Today was packed with interesting activities including... SHOWERS!!!! As exciting as that was the most interesting thing we did today in my opinion was our visit to the plaza in Altar. The plaza was the place to be for talking to migrants, future migrants came to the plaza to get supplies and wait for their Coyote (or guide) to take them into the desert. Some of the Migrants we talked to wouldn't even tell us their name for fear that we would turn them in to the border patrol. The faces of the migrants spoke enough by themselves however they were going, they didn't want to but they had to and they were scared.

Read more!