A Roadblock, Not a Barrier for Migrants

Sergio Cruz almost made it. He had walked five days through the desert, was robbed at gunpoint, abandoned by his guide and now was within 20 yards of the border.

That’s when he saw the line of trucks and sport utility vehicles flying American flags just over the barbed-wire fence separating Mexico from the U.S. Frustrated, he and nine other travelers lay quietly in a ditch along the railroad tracks hoping the men would go away. Early Sunday, Enrique Enriquez stumbled across the migrants and broke the news.

“Did anyone tell you about the Minutemen?” Enriquez, a member of Grupo Beta, Mexico’s agency dedicated to protecting the health of migrants, asked the ragged group. “They are hunting for guys just like you. You couldn’t get across now if you were sitting on George Bush’s lap.... You cannot cross here -- wait a month or choose another place.”

Enriquez had been patrolling La Morita, a desolate border region, all morning. His mission was to intercept people heading north and warn them about the Minuteman Project, an effort by hundreds of American volunteers to track and report illegal immigrants coming into southeastern Arizona.

The migrants frowned.

“I would like to tell those people that we are not criminals,” said 22-year-old Cruz. “We came to pick crops. Our records are clean. We are not selling drugs, we only want to work. Who will pick the crops if we don’t?”

Although only about 200 activists have shown up, their efforts have already had a dramatic, if perhaps short-term effect.

This vast desert border just west of Douglas, Ariz., is the busiest illegal crossing point in the nation. Enriquez said more than 400 people a day walk these harsh trails. But news of the Minutemen’s arrival, combined with media hype in Mexico, has cut the traffic to a few dozen a day.

Some smugglers have refused to take clients to the border area until the activists leave. Others are directing them elsewhere, as far east as El Paso, Texas. An air of fear and indignation hangs over this side of the border, where misinformation is rife.

Ruben Valenzuela, a Mexican state policeman at a checkpoint near Agua Prieta, across from Douglas, said his unit had been dispatched to protect migrants.

“We came because they are shooting our people over there,” he said. “They don’t have the right to kill immigrants. People here are really angry about this.”

Valenzuela and his comrades seemed surprised to hear that the Minutemen, who began arriving Friday, were under strict orders not to touch any illegal immigrant, only to report them to the Border Patrol.

“Well, they will only stop the immigration for a short time and then it will start again,” he said.

Not far away, Lupita Paz said she didn’t send her children, American citizens, to school in Douglas on Friday. “A bunch of us women didn’t send their kids because we were afraid of the Minutemen,” she said.

Agua Prieta Mayor David Figueroa called the activists “vigilantes” and their effort “an expression of racism.” He said that Grupo Beta had added more agents to try to persuade people not to cross and show that the Mexican police presence has been beefed up to deter drug dealers from sneaking into the U.S.

The net effect has been a precipitous drop in illegal traffic, something the Minuteman campaign would likely claim credit for. But Figueroa said Mexico didn’t have the money to sustain such efforts and that they would end when the volunteers left at the end of the month.

“I understand the frustration of the American people but this is not the way to handle it,” he said.

While the activists’ presence along the border has deterred some, it has done little to stop the desire to go north. Interviews with migrants Sunday showed they planned to go around the Minutemen or wait until they left. None would stay in Mexico.

“We heard about these people but didn’t see them until last night,” said Manuel Soto, 21, as he sat along railroad tracks in Mexico. “We didn’t know what we should do so, we were going to wait until they left.”

The Minutemen, stationed at quarter-mile intervals, were just over a small rise where they couldn’t see the migrants.

Santiago Ramirez, 36, was angry with his government.

“Tell [Mexican President] Vicente Fox to pay us better wages so we don’t have to cross here,” he said.

Enriquez of Grupo Beta calmed the men.

“I will tell you the truth,” he said. “The people over there are very angry with you. I cannot say what they will do if they catch you. They may beat you up or hurt you. You see the solution, you are not dumb, so don’t waste your time crossing, it’s not worth it.”

They agreed to abandon their plans for the moment and jumped in back of Grupo Beta’s orange pickup.

Sergio Cruz stared out the window.

“My dream is to some day have my own business, but I must save my money for that,” he said. “I would like to have a wife and children and a stable job, but I don’t know if that is possible in Mexico. I can’t get any money here. I see this dream as not happening.”

The group was taken to Agua Prieta, given soup and offered a reduced-price bus ticket home. There were no takers. Everyone planned to cross.

“Maybe we will go through Juarez this time,” said Justino Escabar. “But I am not giving up. I will try again in a different direction; there are still many places to cross.”