Yes, In My Backyard: The Mexico Trip  - By Andy Graham
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It's funny how Life gives you exactly what you need when you need it, especially when you stop long enough to ask for it.
Just recently, I was saying that I would like to do more service work, especially in a foreign country where I could see a different reality and connect with people in a deeper way than I am used to.

What I really needed was a change of perspective...and I got it..within days.

I had an opportunity to drive a group of students from 2 local schools down to Mexico for a one-week trip. This group of about 20 students worked with a humanitarian group, Esparanza, building homes for extremely poor familles in the Tijuana area.

The drive down was 11 hours.... By the time we got to San Diego, I was more than ready to be at our destination.

We arrived at the Esparanza headquarters in the town of La Gloria, south of Tijuana. This building, known as the Posada, was where we would sleep for the following week.

Our group host was Robert (I never got his last name). He was a 25 year old American who had worked with Esperanza
and lived at the Posada for the last 11 months. He spoke Spanish fluently and knew the culture very well.
We got acquainted with him and oriented about the upcoming week.
He told us that work site was located about 45 minutes away in South East Tijuana. I went to bed early as I was
exhausted from the drive and we were to start working very early in the morning.

Morning came way too fast. We fell into the vans and we were off to the work site.
I experienced a great deal of culture shock upon entering this neighborhood we would be
spending the next week working in. The neighborhood was the poorest area I have ever seen.
People lived in dwellings that most Americans would never find suitable as tool sheds. There was no running water,
make-shift outhouses, and all waste water was piped out to run down the very rutted dirt roads that I was suprised
that our vans could handle. The houses that had electricity were powered by a single wire hooked around the power
line at the pole and running along the ground to the house. And then there were the dogs...everywhere there were dogs
that belonged to no one. Some in really bad shape.

This is how about 90% of the people in the world live. I thought to myself, "Welcome to the rest of the World."

One thing I noticed right away was, in spite of having no material possessions (by US standards), these people had a sense gratitude that was far
deeper than most people I have met here in the US (Including myself). There was much more eye contact and smiles from strangers than I was used to.
There was no denial there. Just people truly living in community and doing what they had to do. Suddenly I felt embarrassed
for ever complaining about any of my 'problems' back home.

The most amazing part was the children. I never saw any of these kids without a smile on their face. Smiling and
laughing out loud was just their normal way of being. I doubt these kids ever whined about being bored.

Throughout the week, we worked hard digging a large ditch for a retaining wall, pouring concrete molds for
ceiling beams and tiles, and hauled buckets, buckets, and more buckets of dirt and concrete. The work was very tiring, but
so satisfying at the same time. I don't think I could have worked with a better group of people. These students
(and the adults) worked so well together. Everything was harmonious. This work continued each day as we returned to the
job site.

Each night, we made dinner back at the Posada, or went out to the local taqueria in La Gloria for food
that puts even the best Mexican restaurant in Sonoma County to shame. They only served tacos and quesadillas.
They dont do burritos in Mexico, that's an American invention.

An interesting thing about this taqueria: When one orders a taco vegetarian, the give it to you for free!
I asked about this and they said that in Mexico, the 'beans and rice are like water.' I guess it was not moral or ethical
to them to charge for something that was so freely available. Apparently, this is common practice in parts of Mexico.
Imagine that! If it costs you nothing, give it away for nothing! They clearly understood something that I could barely
wrap my American mind around. I could feel my Western mindset start to fracture.
Of course, I put the money I was going to pay into the tip jar. Yes, there IS a such thing as a free lunch..if one is
not just thinking of themself.

Needless to say, we visited this place every day..sometimes twice.

The Border Experience -

Perhaps the most solemn part of the week was Thursday night. Robert took the whole group of us to a couple of
spots along the US border. We were told that nothing could prepare us for what we would experience. He was right.
As we drove through downtown Tijuana, we arrived at a long stretch of road. Along the right side of the road was
a long metal wall about 8 feet high. This ran for miles. Behind the wall was an endless row of large bright street
lights about every 100 feet. As we drove, I noticed hundreds...thousands of white crosses on the wall.

We pulled the vans over along this road. As we gathered at the wall, Robert told us that the metal wall was the
US border. Each cross represented a person who was killed while crossing the boarder since 1996. Each of the crosses
has the name of the person and their age. About a quarter of them simply said, 'No Identificad'.
We stayed here only a few minutes because Federal Police would be by soon to send us along our way.
We looked at more crosses and climbed the wall to look around. Over the wall was about 100 feet of 'No Man's Land'
brightly lit by the lights. Behind this is a 30-foot razor wire fence, the type usually found surrounding
maximum-security prisons. I cannot describe the emotions that arose while looking over at the 'Land of the Free'
through such an unwelcoming barrier. I've always known of this fence, but being there is a completely different story.
Many messages/thoughts went through my head, but one message was crystal clear:
If you are Mexican, you are not welcome. I found myself wondering where 'Bring me your tired, your poor....' fit into this picture. I
don't remember seeing such a display at the US/Canada border.

Robert said that in 1996, America 'closed the door, but left the window open.' The border is 'officially' closed to illegal immigrants, but left open 'just enough' to allow those hard-working men to cross through the harsher desert and mountain border conditions inland. Why? Well, after all, we need those people to do our not-so-pleasant jobs for low wages. I see it everywhere at home in Sonoma County. I started to truly understand the bigger picture: The love-hate relationship America has with the Mexican people. We love to exploit them, but hate to take care of them. We love to have that pool of cheap labor at our disposal to do our
dirty work...work that's 'beneath us.' But at the end of the day, we would rather see them just 'disappear.' ..back to wherever they go to sleep at night... as long as it's out of  view from our comfortable living room.

I promised myself that moment that I would never allow myself to see any Mexican person as 'less than' again. I would never again avoid looking at those workers waiting for work in Graton and Fulton areas out of my ownfear of making a real connection with them.

I also promised myself to make an effort to never to be complacent again. I also knew that I could have no more tolerance for people who complain about petty things, like the next kid I see complaining because they cant have the latest Playstation game or being 'bored.' Or, the next property owner bitching because his neighbor's weeds are 'unsightly' or trying to stop the development of low-income housing near their home, saying that nauseating phrase: 'Not in my backyard.'

Anyway, Friday was our last work day. Today, the family threw a fiesta for us in gratitude for the work we did all week.
Before we left, we sat in a circle with the family and, through Robert as an interpreter, expressed our gratitude
for being able to be part of these people's lives for the week. Sylvia, the mother, also expressed her gratitude to us and
told us that we are always welcome back to her home. There were many tears and smiles and hugs.
I joked with the group leader, "You didn't tell me this was going to be an emotional trip!" We packed up the tools
and headed back to the Posada for the last time.  

Friday night I went to bed early as we were leaving at 4 AM to avoid the border traffic. It was hard to sleep
as I was realizing that I would most likely never see this family we worked with again. Besides, I was not the least bit
homesick except for missing my family back home. But, America just did not seem to inviting...maybe
this had something to do with that ugly border I saw the night before??

The next morning, we managed to leave on time and only had to wait about 1 1/2 hours to get through (at 4:15 in the morning??). After a brief encounter with the most anal-retentive and condescending border guard I've ever seen (Welcome to America!), we were 'free' and on our way back to 'Normal Life" -- whatever that means.

I experienced more culture shock coming back from Mexico than going in. The further north we drove, the more 'plastic'
the world around me became. Those sterile tract houses on the hill with those perfectly manicured lawns, the shiny SUVs getting 12 MPG,
fast food restaurants, and of course, those American flag bumper stickers (Boy, I didn't miss those one bit!). All this made me want to U-turn
on the interstate back to Mexico.

Now, I was truly in a foreign country: A country with 4% of the world's population, yet consuming almost 70% of the world's resources
in order to maintain "our way of life." -- Another nausiating phrase, at least lately.

I couldn't help wondering how different things would be in the world if it weren't for that statistic. Would the Mexican people still only make $5 a day at those American-owned Tijuana sweatshops? Do we really NEED to consume that 70% to be 'happy'? Getting outside of my own comfort zone and into this other reality in our own back yard brings up so many questions about my own life and culture. What is really important?

Sure, the neighborhood we spent the week in was dirty and disorganized with muddy, rutted roads, but at least Mexico was real. The people, the way they relate,made eye contact, welcomed us into their homes, served free food in their restaurants, The way they don't live in fear ... everything is more real...more honest, in Mexico. At least that was my experience.

It's this realness that I hope to take back with me...hopefully forever. I will always value my experience this last week and plan to go back at least once a year. I took photos of the family we worked with to ground me as I sink back into my "normal life." I know now that if I start to get too complacent, it will be time to make that trip down south again for some more 'Reality maintenance.'

In the mean time, I'll be sure to visit the local taco trucks often!

-Andy