Untold Stories

Altar, Sonora

David Rochkind, for the Pulitzer Center

Hector Juarez, and his older brother Alfredo, were two of only a handful of migrants in an otherwise packed mass at the Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in Altar’s central plaza. I had expected the church service would be full of migrants, especially since a prayer is recited specifically asking god to protect all those who make the dangerous journey to the United States.  A nun at the church later explained that there are never many migrants at Sunday mass.  It isn’t that they are less religious, but rather that they prefer to pray when the church is empty; they are often embarrassed to be dressed in worn, dirty clothes while surrounded by the freshly cleaned, pressed and coifed church members.  Nevertheless, there were Hector and Alfredo, sitting in a pew at the back of the church, spending their time with God as they decided if they should go home or trek north through the desert one more time.      

Altar, Sonora

Sacha Feinman, for the Pulitzer Center. Photo by David Rochkind

Marcos Burruel is so in love with the scent of beer that he will sometimes wash his hands in it. He breaks into a smile whenever he tells people this, gently shaking his silver head of hair. Once a quality control supervisor at the Tecate beer factory in Baja, Mexico, it was Marcos’ job to smell each batch of the freshly brewed product in order to make sure that nothing was off. He currently works with the local church, running Altar’s only shelter for migrants. One profession would seem to have little to do with the other... Though Marcos went and found the common link.

Marcos opens the shelter every night at 5 p.m., allowing all who show up through the front gate. He tries to give help to anyone who needs it, handing out fresh clothes and medical supplies, letting people take a quick shower and feeding them a home cooked meal. Those looking to stay the night, however, must first make it pass his discerning nose.

“There are many different types of people who come through here,” he explains.  “There are the very good, the good, the normal, the bad, and the very bad.  My job is to determine who is who, and to protect the people who need my help.”

Altar, Sonora

Sacha Feinman, for the Pulitzer Center

We hadn’t yet taken ten steps off the bus when I made eye contact with someone for the first time.

“Are you going North?” he hissed, walking towards me quick.  “Let’s go, let’s go.”

It was a strange way to be welcomed, no doubt, but one that reflected perfectly the town’s character.

Altar, Sonora… As soon as you arrive, we’ll try and sell you a way out.

There are plenty of trite analogies one can use in trying to explain Altar.  It’s like Grand Central Station, a gathering point from which people are moved in a myriad of directions across the U.S. border - or maybe it’s like a migrant Walmart, where everything one might need for making it North, like backpacks, electrolyte-infused soft drinks or a guide to take you through the desert, are available within a few short steps.

Nogales, Sonora

Sacha Feinman, for the Pulitzer Center. Photo by David Rochkind

Their stories are infinite in variety.  Jose Arturo Romero got separated from his group and was left to fend for himself in the middle of the desert, picked up by the Border Patrol after four days of what had seemed like aimless wandering.  It was his third attempt, and he had yet to make it the 60 miles to Tucson.  Dehydration and the near-death experience be damned; he was ready to try again.  Jorge Flores had been successful in his one and only crossing 22 years earlier.  More than two decades later, an entire life came undone in Raleigh, North Carolina when he ran a red light and was found to be driving without a license.  Some are trying to get to their families in New York or Chicago, believing that opportunity awaits if they can just complete the journey.  Others have no one to call on and no idea what to expect once they finish moving.

The stories vary save in a single detail; each narrator hired a "pollero", or guide, to bring them across the border and safely install them in the U.S.

These days, human smuggling to the U.S. is a big business, one that has undergone a profound transformation over the last 10-15 years.  What were once "mom and pop" enterprises only found on the U.S/Mexico border have been replaced by far more sophisticated brokers who now interact with the country's deadly narcotraffickers.

The hiring of a pollero represents a remarkable moment in a migrant's journey.  Life savings, not to mention lives themselves, are given over to a total stranger.  And there is no criteria by which one might judge which guide is trustworthy and which is trouble.

"It's luck, picking a pollero.  Luck and faith in God," advises Melvin Castañeda, a 34 year old migrant from the state of Sinaloa.  "There are a few little things that can help.  Never pick a young guide, for example.  Older guides have been around longer and know better how to get around.  And they don't walk as fast.  But luck; that is really all you have."

"The border crossing is more dangerous today than ever before," says Enrique Enriquez, the local coordinator of the governmental agency Grupo Beta.  Working to provide medical attention and travel advice for would-be crossers, the organization's members are in a unique position to testify on the dangers facing migrants looking to smuggle themselves across the U.S./Mexico border.

According to Enriquez, increased security measures by the U.S. Border Patrol has resulted in an equal but opposite reaction on the Mexican side.  While U.S. authorities have militarized the border in an attempt to bring order to the region and stem the flow of undocumented workers in to the U.S., their actions have made the journey more dangerous for migrants.

"Polleros are pushing these groups further and further into the most deadly regions.  The Border Patrol is a stronger presence along the most obvious routes, so the polleros have to travel into the most inhospitable areas, routes that are controlled by the narcotrafickers.  The polleros are forced to pay taxes to the narcos, and they put the migrants in a much more dangerous situation."

As Enriquez sees it, this interaction between drug smugglers and people smugglers is a relativly new development.  "We have really only started to see it in the last 2-3 years.  As the narcos have gone and consolidated their total control of the border, they are more visible in the migrant buisness."

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