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𝗕𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀: 𝗝𝗮𝗻𝘂𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗪𝗶𝘁𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿, 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗽 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲

By Sue-Ann DeVito

Wednesday, January 10th, began with a journey to the border wall, a scenic drive that takes about an hour and a half from Tucson to Sasabe, traversing the desert landscape. Our usual routine involved crossing into Sasabe, Mexico, and visiting Casa de la Esperanza, a migrant resource facility near the border patrol station that caters to both migrants and local residents.

However, on this particular day, the Sasabe port of entry was closed. The residents of Sasabe, Mexico, had endured terror from rival cartels, resulting in the burning down of many homes. We heard harrowing stories of women we had met with in March escaping their homes, clutching their children and fleeing for their lives. The majority of the 1000 people living there had to evacuate, packing whatever they could salvage from their burning homes. This border closure not only affected the local residents but also prevented those escaping this violence from reaching the port to request asylum.

As we faced the closed port, we made a stop at the Sasabe store, a small building within a half-mile of the crossing. It resembled something out of an old western movie, and to use the portapotty, you had to pay $1. The remote location highlighted the impact of the border closing on this small community that relies on commuters.

While parked in front of the store, we noticed a small camera hanging from a string on a neighboring tree, raising questions about who was watching us. Two men dressed in camouflage sat outside the store, claiming to be hunting javelina with a snicker. Surrounded by tribal land and a wildlife reserve, the uncertainty lingered about whether their hunt was for four-legged animals.

Continuing our journey, we covered many miles along the border wall, navigating rough terrain with steep inclines. Despite the comfort of our 4 x 4 pickup truck with modern amenities, the difficulty of the drive at 10 miles per hour made us ponder the desperation that would drive people to attempt this on foot.

While we covered considerable ground along the wall, we did not encounter any asylum-seekers. The lack of cell service hindered our ability to contact others to determine how much farther we should drive. After approximately 10 miles, a modest distance considering our slow pace, we decided to turn back.

Contrary to televised portrayals, the reality is that the entire length of the border does not have a constant influx of asylum-seekers. Rather port closures and wall construction funnel people into more remote and dangerous areas. The journey back to the main road led us past the border wall construction center, bustling with contractors, supplies, and construction activities—an active scene under the current administration.

Returning to Tucson, we made a stop near the border at the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge, where birdwatchers gathered to witness the migration. The irony struck us—having refuge for animals and birds migrating, yet lacking similar provisions for humans.

On our way back, we visited two memorials that are part of Álvaro Enciso’s art installation project called "Donde Mueren Los Sueños" — Where Dreams Die. Crosses mark the sites where migrants have lost their lives, serving as a poignant tribute and drawing attention to the migrant-death crisis resulting from U.S. border-enforcement policies. One cross represented a newborn who tragically died shortly after his mother gave birth on the side of the road. Reflecting on the proximity to safety, and her incredible journey on foot while pregnant- my heart ached for her loss.