Confessions of a Wannabe Professional Host Daughter

Photo Courtesy of Hannah Ebling-Artz

            Not everyone wants to migrate to the U.S.  This sounds like a simple enough statement, I know.  But with words like the immigration “tide,” “wave,” and “flood” inundating media coverage today, this is a truth so quickly obscured!  Currently, net migration from our southern neighbor hovers right around zero.  And yet, this immigration “wave” is overwhelmingly equated with Mexico in particular, leaving many with the unconscious impression that everyone there would come here in a heartbeat if only they could.  This, I would argue, is why we need stories, stories of people who live contentedly in Mexico and other Latin American nations, people who can help us to debunk the myths percolating around the issue of immigration.[1] And so it is that I would like you to meet José and Rosa, the couple with whom three other students and I had the honor of staying during our two nights in Mexico.

            I am going to be honest: when BorderLinks first shared with us the news that we would be staying with families instead of in an office building as originally planned, my initial response was apprehension.  This might sound out of character for me, given the enormous role my Senegalese (host) family has played in my life.  However, literally all I could think in response to the news was, “I don’t speak Spanish!  And two days is too short a time!  This just isn’t going to work!!”  However, these fears melted almost immediately in the warmth of the couple’s welcome, and soon I was dreaming up ways of making a career out of being a “professional” host daughter, or at the least, of delaying my departure!

            Both retired, José and Rosa live within sight of the Border wall in Nogales, Sonora, with a parrot named Parrot.  Having previously worked at a bank with a significant clientele base of English-speakers, José had a pretty expansive English vocabulary.  This, when paired with the Spanish of two of the other students staying in the house, enabled us to communicate almost (well, kind of) seamlessly.  Though I definitely had to rely on the translating help of my friends when trying to ask more involved questions of Rosa, my favorite thing was when I was able to communicate with José directly.  Drawing from the similarities between French and Spanish, it was almost a game to try to decipher what was being said and then string along my own halting, ungrammatical Spanish phrases, with José meeting me in the middle with no small amount of laughter!

            As might have been the case with any U.S. family, we spent the vast majority of our brief time together in front of the T.V. and around the kitchen table.  We bonded over the Mexican equivalent of Dancing with the Stars—except in this case, El Gran Chapuzon, the stars dove off of high boards instead of dancing!  Around the table, we talked about everything from their children to our classes in seminary, from their thoughts on the Border wall to our favorite places to travel in the U.S. and Mexico alike.  We learned about their residential visa, which allows them to cross back and forth to the U.S. to buy clothing and groceries at cheaper rates, not to mention Subway, which is Rosa’s favorite!  Perhaps the story I loved hearing most of all was that of José’s Christmas car, which came to him a few years back when Rosa surprised him with a state lotto ticket that turned out to be the lucky winner!  (In contrast, my story of having once won a goldfish at an elementary school party could hardly hold water, though goodness knows my parents did not feel that way about it at the time!)  Through it all, Rosa plied us with delicious and seemingly endless amounts of food, José regaling us with stories of friends and family come ostensibly to visit, but who in actuality were most of all there because they were craving Rosa’s famous beans!

            All this is to say, well, quite simply, that things do not magically stop or change somehow when you arrive at the U.S.-Mexico Border.  We humans created that border, after all, so it only makes sense that life would continue to connect and spill over across the divide, and so it does.  The land, the weather, my allergies—the same on both sides!  And in so, so many ways, so too are the people.  Were it not for the difference in language and latitude, José and Rosa could easily be another couple in my family’s church, or in our neighborhood, with countless shared hobbies, concerns, and hopes.  Moreover, I think I can fairly make the argument that this dear family is just about as likely to move to the U.S. as my American one is to move to Mexico, so deeply rooted are they in their community!

            During our brief time in Nogales, we had the chance to speak with an activist artist association called Taller Yonke.  Referring to a mural they had once constructed on the wall itself that depicted what things looked like on the other side, they poignantly declared, “With art, we erased the wall.”  Looking back on the time shared with José and Rosa, I would like to think that, in our own small yet real way, we too erased the wall, through a mélange of shared learning, human connection, and joy.

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[1] Stories on their own, I realize, cannot bring resolution to the quagmire that is our policy reform debate.  But they can capture our imagination and equip us with new vision, and in these role I find their power to transform.