7/31/20

By Josh Rubin

Latest Update: Good news. Weather service reduces its estimated crest by 1.5 feet. Should begin subsiding soon.

Update: Weather Service has revised downward its prediction of a crest. We are only an inch or two from it, now. Soon the waters will begin to recede.

From a distance.

Sometime during the next day or so, the Río Grande, called Río Bravo by those who are on its southern banks, will reach its highest level. We must rely on those who are on those banks, who are watching the water rise and near their tents, to tell us what is happening.

We also watch the US weather service, who at this moment are forecasting an additional two feet of water before the runoff from Hurricane Hanna has finished its threat to the lives of the people camped on that bank.

Earlier in the history of that encampment of people in Matamoros, Mexico, people who gathered there to await their court hearings to find out the fate of their wish for asylum in the United States, the tents and makeshift shelters were on the plaza that led to the international bridge. Significantly, the plaza is protected by the levees along the river, levees built to protect the city from floods like this one. But the Mexican government, under pressure from the people and officials of Matamoros, insisted that this settlement of pilgrims was an eyesore.

They threatened the people with removal to remote locations. But the asylum seekers did not want to leave. They felt the need to be near the bridge, under they eyes of border guards and near the tent courts that line the opposite bank, that held their fate. They believed that they would be more vulnerable to the kidnapping and attacks made on them by criminals in the city.

This standoff led to the relocation of the encampment to where they are now, on the floodplain on the river side of the protective levees. The danger of this compromise was known at the time, recognized by many of the asylum seekers who were reluctant to move from the dry pavement to the muddy banks. The move was assisted by groups that had formed to help the refugees; new tents were provided as incentive.

Now, the village of the hopeful faces, we hope, the final hours and days of a consequence of this history entwined with the bad luck of a hurricane making its way to where the deep southern tip of Texas meets Mexico’s northern reach. They watch carefully as the river rises to the level of tents nearest the swirling currents of the swollen river, caring for their children and neighbors, moving them up to the high ground of the levee, closer to the streets they left months ago.

From a distance, we wait and watch with them.

Photo by Josué Rolando Cornejo Sabillon