The quiet beauty of the Southern California desert in the early morning on a clear day can be magical. Before the heat rises and the dry air penetrates your skin, the Zen of driving on the long straight highway between jagged, ochre-colored mountains and the sunken Salton Sea can be calming. Occasional crops of date palms line the highway, filled with their delicious fruit hanging in large clusters.
On the day I returned to Mexicali in November of 2023 for another visit to the Posada Del Migrante shelter, the Salton Sea reflected a cerulean blue sky. This shallow body of water stretches for 35 miles southeast through the desert, ending just north of Mexico.
In some ways, making this trip feels easy when I go every few months, even though it is a thousand miles from my home, and the driving is tiring. But the reward of the journey is arriving at the shelter just a few blocks past the Port of Entry into Mexico. The faces of all the gentle people who patiently wait for their asylum claims to be processed by US Immigration Services inspire me. Most have traveled many more miles than I have. These refugees wait in the shelter because they want to enter the US legally, and need a safe place to stay close to the border where they can be called at any time to learn of their asylum claim status. They are open and ready to do whatever creative activity I have devised for them.
Their patience and determination to find a better life encourages me to continue supporting them. Even though I bring basic food and hygiene supplies donated by Humboldt County donors, and art activities to brighten their day, meeting and working with the migrants is a gift to me. Being with them is something I treasure.
For my November visit, we had fun making piñatas for their upcoming Las Posadas celebrations. Local donors gave leftover Halloween candy, filling up two big banana boxes, to put inside the piñatas we constructed that day. The volunteer shelter staff were wide-eyed when they saw so much chocolate, and quickly hid the boxes in their pantry until the time to break the piñatas arrives (in the week before Christmas.)
A month later, I returned the day after Christmas for a bonus trip. Along with more food and hygiene supplies, , I brought gently-used toys and children’s shoes, art supplies, and 110 carefully wrapped bilingual children’s books for the children for Día de Reyes, celebrated on January 6th. Wrapping paper was made by my elementary students using a variety of stamps on donated blank newsprint. Adult volunteers stamped up more sheets to finish wrapping all the books at an evening gift wrapping party before I left.
As a special offering for the migrants, my brother John, a Jesuit priest, accompanied me from Los Angeles to the border to say mass for them. In Mexico, it is tradition to attend Catholic Mass on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. Almost all of the more than 50 people who attended asked for his blessing after the service.
We then transitioned into the art activity. In Japan, for the New Year, there is a tradition of creating a small book reflecting the events and special moments of the past year. Made with a long strip of paper, and folded back and forth like an accordion, the front and back cover are glued on, and drawings or words are recorded for posterity. My friend Hugo translated as I explained the project and showed some examples. Then the children began drawing and assembling their memory books for 2023. I was fascinated to see how several of them drew airplanes. When asked, they said they had flown to the border from places such as Michoacán and Guerrero. I chose this project because I thought it might be helpful to process what most certainly must have been an eventful year for these migrant families.
As the art activity began winding down, and the children finished their books, we brought in boxes of toys. Hugo and John pulled out numerous balls, games, dolls and things, and the children happily began playing with everything. Three girls stood near each other gracefully waving sticks with long, colorful ribbons attached. My twin nieces, now in their first year of college, donated their plastic ukuleles they dug out from storage from music class in first or second grade. Two boys instantly reached for them and began plucking away. They posed for a photo. I got this sudden premonition that they may become a musical duo someday. It is always a possibility when you put the right tools into the hands of the right people.
We said goodbye to the children with smiles on their faces, playing and dancing around with their newly acquired toys. Although it was the day after, it definitely felt like Christmas, and a day I will never forget.
Maureen McGarry 