Witnessing in the Tent Court

by Annique Boomsma, Joan Epstein, and Karen Levine

On February 11 several of us spent about four hours in the Tent Court just on the Brownsville side of the Gateway International bridge where asylum-seekers come for their court hearings. Below is a summary of our observations, including questions that arose for us.

Our expectations going in, based on the reports of many others who had witnessed in the courts, were that that we would see a kangaroo court with a dismissive judge who would bulldoze through the legal process without any attempt to make sure asylum seekers understood the process. We expected the homeland security offers to be brusque and strict with us as visitors.
Surprisingly we were greeted respectfully by the homeland security officers, (HSO) and they were receptive to answering our questions and bent over backwards to make us comfortable while we were there. This was also the case at the Homestead detention camp.
QUESTION: Is this genuine or PR?
Both homeland security officers that we met presented a very positive picture of how migrants are treated and how many are granted asylum. The first officer told us that he saw 25 asylum-seekers “walk out this door free” last week which he said was typical. These numbers do not match publicized reports.
Our question about this, which we hope to get answered, is what percent of adjudicated asylum cases are granted asylum? We have heard from lawyers here that the number is close to nil.
Also a surprise was that this judge was a model of compassion, support, good listening, clear, kind, respectful communication and repeatedly asked asylum-seekers if they had questions.
Despite the ILLEGAL rules of the Trump administration that deny asylum seekers their LEGAL right to seek asylum, and that the judge had to follow these procedures, she went out of her way in the course of the hearing, by scheduling future hearings, to allow migrants to make their case for asylum, without ever using the word asylum. It was glaring to us that the word ASYLUM was never uttered in the court.
Once we were seated in the back of the court we observed the proceedings. In the front of the room was a large screen where we could view the judge in Harlingen 20 miles away via video camera. Seated next to the judge was a Spanish translator, and a lawyer representing the United States government was seated nearby. Migrants were seated in rows facing the screen. The HSOs in the court would be instructed by the judge to provide needed forms for each migrant during the proceedings.
The judge began with general education to all that were present about the process and what to expect at the hearing. Then she called each migrant individually, who came up to a table in the front of the camera either alone, with a spouse or with their child. We heard seven cases in total with migrants from Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Cuba and Venezuela. Four had children with them ages one and a half to 12. All had arrived in Texas in mid November, except one who had arrived in August, and this was their first hearing.  Most will have 3 to 4 hearings in total during which they must provide evidence for why they are afraid to return to their country of origin. The evidence they must provide consists of personal identification, medical or police reports, and affidavits from witnesses familiar with what they endured as well as any other evidence they can “reasonably provide”
QUESTION: What is considered “reasonable”? What if they fled without anything, for fear of their lives and only have their story to tell? What if reporting gang violence is never reported to the police in their country of origin because police don’t do anything to help? What happens at their next hearing then?
Each case began with the judge asking if the migrant needed time to seek legal counsel or was ready to present their case today. If they were ready to present their case today she began by reading the charges by the US government against them. The charges were “the government alleges that you are not a citizen or national of the United States and entered without inspection or documents for legal passage into the United States. Is that true ?”  They all answered yes. The judge asked, “And do you understand that with this admission you are subject to removal from the United States? Do you agree?” They all said yes.
QUESTON: The change in policy of the United States has made it literally impossible for anybody seeking asylum to set even one toe onto US territory in order to legally claim asylum. The only way to enter is illegally. The logic seems to be that as you exercise your legal right to seek asylum you automatically break US law. How can this be?

The judge then asked each migrant, if they are removed by the United States, what country would they choose to go to? All said Mexico. All were then told by the judge that Mexico is not an option because it is contiguous with United States and is not a designated country for removal. All were then designated their own country of origin except one man from Guatemala who was designated to go to Honduras should he receive orders of removal. This is probably due to the new Guatemalan Asylum Cooperative Agreement which now deports many migrants often before they even have a hearing and returns them to Honduras instead of Guatemala.
Then each migrant was asked if they were afraid of returning to Mexico. Five said no, two said yes and they were taken to a private interview with a homeland security officer to decide if they would have to go back to Mexico that day. We were not permitted into that hearing and do not know the outcome.
All of the asylum-seekers in this court room were given a follow up date with the same judge for their second hearing in either April or May which will be at least six months from the time they arrived.
Today it is cold and damp and we are feeling how very hard life is for all in the camp, to have sustained this life over so many months already and with no end in sight. The judge advised everyone to seek legal assistance before they returned next time. The system is in crisis with a severe shortage of affordable or free legal representation available for the number of asylum-seekers who need legal help (as well as help translating all of their documents into English).
One asylum seeker gave as his reason for leaving Guatemala that “he wanted to have a better quality of life for himself and his six-year-old son”. The judge responded that a desire for a better life is not a criteria for seeking asylum.

QUESTION: If you come to this country from a Central American country and due to severe poverty your children are hungry, or due to climate change, that has made it impossible for you to grow the crops that sustain your livelihood or your family’s food supply, but your life was not threatened by a gun or a knife- why is this not a legal criteria to seek asylum? (Not to mention the role of the United States historically in contributing to all of these problems.)
We look forward to hearing from others who have observed in the courts. We wonder if this judge is an exception to the rule (a gorilla judge?) Or perhaps even the seemingly best of intentions and kindness may have no impact on her final ruling, under the legal constraints of this random, racist, cruel, Trump policy.
We are starting to really feel the desperation and pain of being stuck in Mexico as well as the grind of daily life in the tent encampment. We also learned that in addition to the roughly 2500 migrants in the tent encampment there are probably another 5000 migrants living on their own in the city of Matamoros, with all the same struggles and painful stories-a staggering human crisis.

Humanity Is Here

In times where so many of us struggle against becoming numb from the onslaught of depressing news headlines, we have found hope and courage here at the border, from listening to the dreams of the migrants themselves, witnessing their perseverance and fortitude in putting up with untenable situations, and from the many people and organizations who have dedicated enormous amounts of time and energy to help them. Here are just a few of the people who are making a huge difference in the lives of others:

Lizee, Ginny and Susan from the Angry Tias and Abuelas. This small group, whose mission was first to provide logistical and humanitarian aid to refugees after they were released from detention is now supporting this community of about 2500 refugees in a smattering of tents stretching out on a narrow muddy plateau above the Rio Grande. They work with a number of private NGO and Mexican government agencies to keep people fed, clothed, and healthy, and to assist them in their interactions with various governments.

Gabi, Charlene, Luis and Santos from the Resource Center in Matamoros: This small rabbit warren of a building across the street from the refugee camp is always filled with people spilled out on the sidewalk waiting for legal help in building their asylum cases. The Resource Center also takes people to the local hospital when their medical issues can’t be resolved by the small medical trailer in the encampment. They have a small “survival center” of donated clothing and toiletries. And to make life less bleak, they run yoga classes and arts workshops. I’m thrilled that three of us will be offering our workshop on Somos Como Las Nubes, a beautiful illustrated book of poems by Jorge Argueta that we did at La Escuelita last Sunday. After discussing the poetry and how it resonated with their own lives, we asked the participants to respond to a poem with their own words, hopes and dreams.

Richard from Justice for our Neighbors. A former ICE attorney, Richard told us how the current administration’s draconian laws, which make it nearly impossible for anyone to claim asylum successfully, made him decide he couldn’t continue in his job. He bought a smaller house for his family of 7 children and accepted a position with this non-profit group that offers legal advocacy for refugees and asylum seekers. They are trying to expand their efforts by recruiting legal and non-legal professionals to help prepare cases, so please check them out if you are able.

Josh Rubin from Witness at the Border. Every time we cross the bridge from Matamoros, we see Josh and others bearing witness. We are happy to be participating in the upcoming weekend of witnessing Amor, No Odio, February 14-17, where en masse we will say no to policies that separate our fellow humans from their families and put their lives at risk.

Our First Day

By Betty Lynne Wolfson

Please take a moment to read a bit about our first day’s experience, here at The Border. 

Every person, parents and their children, here in their encampment on the Border, were so warm, open, lovingly kind, and full of faith. 
I spoke with a woman at the Medical Tent, this was only her second day in the camp. Her body held the look of total exhaustion, yet when she smiled at me her eyes lit up.  She radiated, her face shown with a brightness I can only call faith, a faith I know exists, it was in every corner of this camp, a faith like I have never known, and may never know.  When I asked her from where had she traveled, and when I told her I had lived, for a time, in her beautiful State of Chiapas, Mexico, she acknowledged, yes, a beautiful place from which to need to flee for safety. To come for a life, free from fear.
I had expected to feel more despondent, but so heartening is the pervasive ingenuity, perseverance, and faith, I am energized this morning to do more of what we came to do, help make things better for these asylum seekers, as they wait.  It may be a book read, an art activity, a meal prepared, stories and smiles shared.

Betty Lynne

Privilege and Pain

Here we are, on the Brownsville/Matamoros Border, the place we’ve been talking about going to for months. Here we are, with our passion, our commitment, and our privilege, ready to do what we can to connect, to support, to witness, and to protest.
We got up early this morning to meet Melba Lucio, director of the Escuelita for Team Brownsville. We were surprised to find 50 or more people gathered by the bus station near the international bridge, with wagons overflowing with yoga mats, blue tarps, books, toys, and schools supplies. Apparently it takes the group 48 hours each week to put all this in “beach wagons,” so they can trek it across the border for the one hour school on Sunday mornings. Sometimes, apparently, the group with Melba are waved across by the border guards, but today the officials wanted to know what was in each backpack for the children and to see the name of each children’s book we were pulling across.
In any case, we made it to the other side, and first saw small children with their faces pressed against a fence, watching us. Their families’ tents were set up near the fence, in dirt that could easily fall or crumble or get washed away by the rain. But apparently some are reluctant to move to the covered area set up by the Mexican government (not clear whether this is local or national government) because they want to be very close to the border, where they will have the best chance of making it across when their number is finally called.   I have heard that some are devastated when they find out that even once they have their first hearing, they will be sent back to Mexico, to live in tents again, and that they will probably be required to go to the tent courts 4 times (over the course of months) before their cases are finally decided–almost in every case, decided against them: “No,” our government declares (with a judge speaking to them through a video screen), “In spite of what you have told us about your fears for your life if you return to your home country, you are not eligible for asylum.”

As the 10 of us work to make decisions together and live in close quarters for 8 days, we hear that there is almost no fighting among those who are living on the dirt, in tents, sharing limited clean water, food, and other essentials.  Every child, teen, and adult we met was so warm and friendly, it made me wonder how they could seem so open to us, when our government is treating them with such disdain and lack of humanity.  

We were given a tour of the encampment by a longer term volunteer who is working with the group Angry Tias and Abuelas, and who was able to answer a lot of our questions.  As we walked around the camp, we were able to lure a child of 3 away from the crumbling banks of the Rio Grande because we were afraid he would fall in.  We were able to talk to adults who had somehow managed to build stoves, or trenches to keep water away from their tents.  I was able to say to a few of them, we are here from the US, from MA, because we want to go home and tell everyone we can about what our government is doing to you.  We think our government is wrong and that we should be welcoming you, instead of turning you away.  

One of the hardest parts of the day so far was our return across the international bridge to Brownsville, Texas.   There were lines of cars crossing, and lines of people waiting in line–not asylum seekers, for sure, but those who had travel visas or some other kind of permission to enter the US.  Adults and families with children, waiting patiently, as they must each time they cross, to get permission to step across into our precious, protected land.  And we, we with our white skins and US passports, got to go through door after door, saying “disculpe” as we walked in front of those waiting, because we, we the privileged, are allow to walk easily through a special line made just for us. 

In the camp, I tried to connect whenever I could, with a smile and a wave and words in Spanish.  I connected with small children, and with their moms, as they sat listening to us reading stories in Spanish.  I connected with teens, as we shared the book “Somos Como Las Nubes/We are like the clouds” (poems written through the voices of migrant youth) with them.  I tried to connect with each of the warm and open human beings who we saw beside their tents or makeshift stoves.  But with the people we passed by on the line into the US, we with our privilege and they without, I had too much shame to say buenas tardes, or hola, or even to smile.  We knew that this was not right, and yet, we took advantage of our privilege as we followed the rules, and could thus more quickly get across and rest our tired feet.  If anyone has not experienced their white skin/US privilege in a visceral way, I suggest you walk across the bridge, from Matamoros to Brownsville, with your passport in hand.   You will feel, as we did, in your bones, and your spirit and your heart, that this is not right, that human beings should not be divided into groups of those with rights and those without, of those who are waved through and those who are made to wait.  And for the asylum seekers, it is even worse.  They have no right to enter, even if they wait and wait and wait.  On the days when they are granted (from the US, on high) the right to cross, because of a paper that indicates their court date, they must get to the bridge 4 hours ahead of time, in order to be sure that they’ll be at the tent kangaroo court on time, which means they may need to arrive at the bridge at 4 a.m.

And so, I am struck by my privilege, in a way that is painful and that I hope to never forget.  I’m not sure, at this moment, why so many people think the US is such a wonderful place.  At this moment, I am ashamed of my government, and ashamed of what we are allowing our government (“of the people, by the people, for the people?”) to do to our fellow humans.  For those I spoke to and smiled with, and those who I passed by in shame, I must commit myself to do everything in my power to force a change, to stop MPP (“Migrant Protection Protocol”–but really, “Stay in Mexico”) and to treat those who enter our gates with compassion and welcoming hearts.  

For today, I must sit with my privilege and my pain.

First Day: Escuelita

We crammed quite a bit into our first morning. Meeting at the Brownsville bus station, we joined a good-sized group of volunteers in a centering ritual before walking en masse across the bridge into Mexico.

Crossing was smooth. They were telling people to open their backpacks for inspection, but when I got to the front of the line, carrying a big bag of yoga mats, they just looked in the bag and ignored my little backpack. We’d been warned that it can be a big deal to bring supplies across the border, and to make sure our materials were in original unopened packaging and that we had receipts. I had all that for the notebooks and pens we’d brought, but they didn’t even look.

Several members of Jewish Activists for Immigration Justice approach the refugee camp

This was an Escuelita (“little school”) day. Some of us jumped right in to help either with a yoga class or an art activity. Dina and I were in the yoga class, and we weren’t needed to assist, so we actually got to do yoga.

Then it was our turn to teach in the Escuelita. We had prearranged to divide ourselves into three groups, each offering a different set of lessons. Alice, Dina, and I did a one-hour lesson with the older kids, working with Somos Como Las Nubes (We Are Like the Clouds), a bilingual book of poetry by Jorge Argueta, a Salvadoran poet who emigrated to the US in the 1980s.

Alice began by introducing the book, having them look at the cover, and then leafing through the book to identify one or more poems or pictures that spoke to them. Then Dina read one of the poems in Spanish and had them write or draw what came up for them, using the notebooks and pens we’d bought in India (where they were very inexpensive). Finally, I introduced the song “Otro Mundo Es Posible” (Another World is Possible), which Dina and Alice–who sing way better than I do–taught, and then I gave them a homework exercise to write or draw some components of the perfect world they’d like to live in.

The whole lesson went very well. My only regret is that it was too noisy immediately outside the tent to have the kids share their work with everyone else.

Betty Lynne, Annique, and Joan worked with the youngest group (6 and under), along with two women who were only here for the day, bringing a nice supply of art materials. They played games with balls and a parachute while counting, naming the color the balls landed on. And the kids were shrieking with joy. Then they removed the balls and paraded around the parachute, lifted it high, and had the kids run underneath. When that was done, Annique read The Very Hungry Caterpillar in Spanish, and then had the kids decorate crowns illustrated with scenes from the book for another parade (big thanks to the Eric Carle Museum in Amherst, Massachusetts for donating these materials). Earlier, while Dina and I were doing yoga, they’d led an art, feelings, and imagination activity.

Susie, Carolyn, Holly, and Karen led songs and movement activities (Hokey-Pokey, Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes) for a mixed-age elementary school group.

All three groups found the kids eager to be involved and happy for our presence.

When the Escuelita was over, Ginny Gray (who lives in Northampton but we didn’t know her) gave us a briefing and then led us on a tour of the refugee camp. We were able to meet with medical and sanitation personnel as well as another educator involved with a different escuelita and find out how we can best support their work, as well as to have some conversations with the families and kids living in the camp. Ginny told us that when she first came in October, conditions were much worse, with all the tents on a bare concrete patch just over the bridge. Now, the Mexican government has given a much larger piece of land and there are a decent number of porta-potties. Still, it must be very muddy when it rains. And Melba, one of the coordinators, is frustrated because she has people willing to build a floor, but they don’t want US citizens building in Mexico.

As we returned to the US, we spent a few minutes with Josh Rubin and his group of witnesses, who inspired us to come here. We’ll be witnessing with them at various times during the week.

This evening, Dina will lead us in an immigrant-justice-themed celebration of Tu B’Shvat, the Jewish new year for the trees.

First Day: Arrival in Brownsville

Not much to report from yesterday, but honoring the commitment to make sure there’s a new post covering every day of our witness and relief mission.

Of the 10 members in our delegation, nine were on the same Hartford-Houston-Harlingen itinerary. The tenth, flying out of Boston, arrived a couple of hours later. Most of the day (starting, for some of us, with a 4 a.m. wakeup) was about getting to Texas, getting the rental cars, getting settled in the two Air BnBs we’ve rented, and getting provisions for breakfasts, etc.

Some of that last happened at Valley Star Fruits and More, a small family-run produce shop with a super-friendly and engaging Latino staff and incredible prices. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but we were very glad we stopped there.

Today will be a full day, much of it on the Mexican side of the border. We start by teaching some of the refugee children in the Escuelita (little school), continue with a guided walk-through of the encampment, and then come back to the Texas side to celebrate the Jewish holiday of Tu B’Shvat (the New Year for trees). If it works out, we may also spend some time with the witnessing group on the border.

Report on our Children, Trauma, and Art program with Dr. Simone Alter-Muri

Quick report on the amazing talk we sponsored this past Sunday on the art of children facing severe trauma by our good friend Simone Alter-Muri. She not only brought in images from the art show we have at Michelson Gallery through 2/21—but (like the show itself) brought in the historical context, discussing art that kids did in such situations as the Nazi camp at Terazin, Japanese-Americans interned by our own government in WWII, as well as kids in Darfur and Iraq.

Paul had put out 50 chairs and that wasn’t enough, even with many competing events. It gladdens my heart that people are so interested in ending the terrible wrongs our government is doing to immigrant families.

Big thanks to gallery owners Richard and Jennifer Michelson and gallery manager Paul Gulla. Not only was it a really cool venue, but they have been so supportive!

This was the second of the two send-offs this weekend for our delegation to the border. I am so glad to be joining this strong group of female elders (at 63, I’m the second-youngest and the only male). We leave on Saturday, and following the event, we had our final pre-departure meeting. I’m always impressed with how well we work together, how much we get done in a short meeting, and how much fun it is to hang around with these folks.

Elizabeth Land posted several more photos from the event here.