Waving from Behind the Wall

We were there today. We were there in person, in body and in heart. With the guidance of those who have been there to witness day after day, we climbed up on ladders holding large red hearts and signs so that the children and youth inside could see us. Some were playing soccer. (Thank God that’s still allowed in spite of Trump’s recent announcements that all educational and recreational activities in the youth detention camps are to be cut!!) Many more were standing in lines, moving in lines, being herded in lines. We chanted and waved from our ladders and quite a number of the kids waved back. So good to know that they know that we are there. At least they know that some folks in the US are with them, are fighting for their release. (This, in spite of the fact that we’ve heard that the children are being told that the witnesses are being paid to be there.)

We had heard that the children in this prison camp are between the ages of 13 and 17, but one of the long-term witnesses says that there may be children there as young as 8! She has seen twins there that she is sure are younger than 10. They are not allowed to touch or hug, even their siblings. Most have been separated from family members (aunts, uncles, older siblings, grandparents) with whom they made the dangerous journey from Central America to the US border. Many have family members already settled in the US. Why, why, why can they not be with family as they await their asylum hearings? Why can’t those who don’t have family members here be placed in warm and loving and welcoming homes with sponsors?

I think of other such camps in our country’s racist history, most particularly the camps where Japanese-Americans were interned–that is, imprisoned. I wonder, Why did I never hear about this from my parents? Did they really not know? Not at the time and not shortly after that? And the people on the West Coast whose neighbors were forced to leave their homes? Surely they knew. Was it that those who were alive at that time did not know–or was it that they did not want to know? What will our excuse be?