Humanitarian Aid Is Not A Crime

I have had some visitors lately. A couple of weeks ago, when the dogs were barking, I looked out to see two migrants standing in the shade of a tree in the corral. As I approached one raised his empty jug and said, in perfect English, “Ma’am, may we please have some water?” he then offered me a $100 bill for food. I told him to keep his money, but took the opportunity to ask a few questions. He and a young man from his village in Southern Mexico had been traveling for three days and they had been afraid to show themselves but were out of water and were starving. He had worked for 10 years in Visalia, California picking vegetables and is finding it hard to return to his job after he goes home to see his family. If he is caught now he will spend three months in jail so he is happy to hear that he is three miles north of the new Border Patrol checkpoint on 1-19 and one mile east of the Arivaca Road checkpoint. After profuse thank-yous and blessings they continue on their way in the warm afternoon sun.

Four days later I am watching a movie in the evening with a friend when the dogs start up a ruckus that gets close to the house. I flip the porch light on and we see at least ten desperate men using the hose spigot inside the garden gate. They were drinking like their lives depended on it. One man waved his arms at me and said, in perfect English, “Please, we just need water, please”. We watch, stunned and apprehensive as they gulped water and filled their jugs in the glare of the porch lamp. I realize I may have helped the leader a few years ago for him to know where the water spigot was and to take the risk of coming in to use it. With a grateful wave they staggered off into the pitch black night, other farm workers going to their jobs.

My questions are: Why aren’t these guys riding a bus to their jobs with a guest workers’ permit in their pocket? Why do these people, who pick our food that we eat, have to sneak in under the cover of darkness with death-by-dehydration and/or starvation hanging over their heads? And what, exactly, do the Border Patrol check points do?