This week started in anger. Monday brought over 400 people to Casa Alitas. This means for at least 3 straight hours I was sitting in the Arizona heat welcoming people. Entering in their information as fast as possible while also trying to give a sense of security and safety. When there was only one more bus left to arrive, I transitioned to the help desk. Another space of frantic people just trying to get to their families and friends. We do not have capacity to care for 400 people well.
How do you tell ICE that we cannot take more people, when the alternative is street releases?
I left work feeling frustrated with the whole system. The series of events that have lead to policies which push people out of their homes and make refuge in impossible feat. This organization should not have to exist.
When I arrived to work Tuesday morning, the main welcome space was eerily empty. I snatched a few pictures so you all can have an idea of the space I am in. Just use your imagination to add people to all the empty seats. When the buses started arriving, I had a new sense of competence. I was feeling comfortable in my Spanish (still of course very limited, but enough for the small intake interaction). It all breaks down though when someone asks me a clarifying question about their upcoming court date.
How do I tell someone, "good luck trying to understand a legal system that I, as a citizen of this country, cannot make sense of" in broken Spanish?
I was warned on one of my first days to only help one person at a time, otherwise it gets messy and confusing. I'm not even sure how it happened, but around 4pm on Wednesday afternoon I found myself attending to more situations than I knew what to do with. A group of Indian men crowded around my computer looking at greyhound tickets. A Venezuelan man needing a flight to New York. A relative is on the phone handed to me. And a man who left behind his immigration papers is wanting updates on their location. I get up to pass on some information to a staff person in the office. On my way, a man (we will call Jorge) approaches me asking for help with his situation. He has no money, family, or sponsor.
How can I, in all my wealth and privilege, tell another human that there is nothing I can do for them?
I assure him that tomorrow he can apply for money assistance. I left work at 5:45 that evening.
Thursday afternoon, Jorge approaches me with a smile. The worried wrinkles still present on his brow, but less defined in this moment. He said he and his uncle found a place to work and someone who will buy their plane tickets. I take a deep breath of relief and celebrate with him. I work with him to get settled into this new plan and update our system. It is rare that I have more than one interaction with a person, so I delight in this development of events and relationship.
When I finish up with him, it is 5pm. As I pack up my things, I am talking to someone else who has been waiting to buy a plane ticket. I tell him, I have to go home, I cannot help him.
How do I tell someone that I am prioritizing my work hours over helping buy a plane ticket?
These questions flood my emotions as I struggle to know what to chose. How to care for myself and others without causing more harm.
A few joys from outside of work this week:
The church engaged in a greeting dance taught by a guest speaker on evening.
Mug brownies.
Second bike ride in one day. And second bike ride after surgery!
A series of photos while we practiced some four part harmony as a house.
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