La Llaga

There is rusty metal wall in Tijuana that not only marks the border between Mexico and the U.S., but visually defines the sharp division between the two countries. Large portions of that wall, on the Mexican side, are canvassed with crosses, coffins, memorials, even altars honoring those who have died by simply trying to cross it. Los Tijuaneses know the wall as La Llaga, or "the festering wound." And behind that wall, there is another. The other wall is taller, stronger, sterile. It is guarded by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.

One of our hosts, Fr. Tom, brought us to the border, to the walls. Walls that represent a horrifying amount of suffering and loss. As we simply drove by it, I couldn't help but feel oppressed by it, taunted by it. I wanted to cross it just because it's very presence was telling me not to. But I can cross it. Freely. And those that can't cross it... or those that must risk everything to cross it... have a real reason to try. They risk losing their lives... so they can have a chance at living.

When we visited that wall we saw names; names just like those honored on the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial in Washington D.C. And these weren't just the names of men. I also saw the names of women, children, infants. Yet, what's most disturbing... is this is a living memorial. More and more names belong on it each day. As we drove away from one part, we witnessed a group of Mexicans jumping over the wall in the very spot we were standing just minutes before. Seconds later they came scrambling back. But we were assured these men would have went for it if they had seen a real opportunity. Our group was baffled. Why there? Why risk it? It seems so secure.

Fr. Tom shared more of the realities of the border with us. I have some great audio but apparently blogger doesn't offer audio hosting. I am still trying to figure out how to get audio up on this site... and I'm getting frustrated because I really want to share his comments with you.

Listening to Fr. Tom speak, I become less hopeful, more disturbed. But then Donna Eisenbath, the leader of this trip, reminded us "that walls do come down. The Berlin Wall did."