A group of 40 hikers make their way along a rough path, rocky hills on either side. The risks of twisting an ankle or finding a cholla cactus impaled in skin are evident, but there are weightier things ahead as well.
The temperature is 107° when the group sets off, but will rise to 113° by midday.
The path they follow has been pre-scouted by Border Angels guides and is a path known to be well-traveled by migrants who cross the border through the hilly desert east of San Diego. Walkers each carry a gallon or two of water, containers that will be left for migrants to find. In the bleak landscape and desert heat, death is a very real risk.
The water bottles are intended primarily to save lives, but also to convey encouragement, so many are decorated with pictures, messages of hope, or Bible verses. It is likely that some of the recipients who come upon these bottles will speak indigenous languages rather than Spanish. Others perhaps will not know how to read. Still, the jugs are adorned with encouraging words. Each bottle bears the day’s date, so both Border Angels guides and thirsty immigrants will know how old the water is.
Two gallons of water weigh eight pounds. Within twenty minutes of walking under the scorching sun, it seems to be an unbearable weight. The path is sprinkled with evidence of migrants who struggled under of the burdens they carried, even without the weight of water.
A man’s coat made of thick, tweedy material rests on the ground in a dusty heap. It’s easy to imagine its owner carefully folding it into his backpack, in case he needed a nice garment to start his new life in the US. At some point, the weight of it had become too much to bear. Blankets, sweaters, soccer jerseys, a lone sock, and a faded baseball cap have also been tossed aside under the brush which cropped up alongside the path. Rusted tuna cans, now empty, punctuate the landscape, interspersed with the remains of emergency packets strategically placed by the Border Angels volunteers.
Deeper into the canyons, the evidence of human activity is markedly difference, sickeningly so. Gallon jugs set out only months before have been intentionally slashed open, letting precious water spill out onto parched earth. Someone has dedicated a few hours to walk to this point, nearly two miles off the highway, over difficult terrain, with intent to harm. Migrants who have walked for days, through a desert for which they are in many cases woefully underprepared, filled with terror, fueled by desperation and adrenaline, hungry and dehydrated, will come upon this cruel handiwork. Even if one wanted to turn back at this point, there is nowhere else to go. They have to press forward if they can, crippled by thirst and disheartened by the ill will they have already encountered.
New water bottles are dropped; slashed water bottles are collected and added to the bag of garbage that has been gathered as the group walks. Murmurs of disgust and anger ripple through the crowd as each new destroyed bottle is discovered. According to the guide leading the group, after a recent water drop, they later found 50 of 54 bottles shredded open. The level of disregard for human life is astounding.
As the hikers return to their cars—exhausted and in some cases showing signs of heat stroke— the comparison to the journey of migrants is stark. The group of Border Angels volunteers walked for only three hours, well-equipped with water, hiking boots, first aid kits, cell phones, and trustworthy guides. No one was allowed to fall too far behind, and in the event of an emergency, rescue would be quick and certain. What of those who hike for days in cheap plastic shoes, under broiling sun, in unfamiliar terrain, encountering maliciously emptied water bottles? What of those who have to make a decision to stay in the desert and save their struggling companions, or abandon stragglers and save themselves?
It is of course easy to dismiss the struggles of migrants, admonishing them to stay home or to wait in line to immigrate legally. However, on seeing the harsh conditions people are willing to endure — the seemingly endless desert, the punishing heat – in search of economic stability and freedom from violence, it is hard to avoid a mixture of pity and admiration. The gift of a bottle of water and an encouraging message seems like a tiny gesture, but is perhaps the difference between life and death.
