Filled With Rage, Sustained By Hope ~ Justyna Jakacki

As the van bumped through the desert, I began to wonder: Is this hike going to be more difficult than I anticipated? The van came to a halt, and it was time to begin our journey. I started towards the front of the group, determined like a few others to follow close behind our guide through the rugged terrain. Quickly, I realized that it would prove to be more challenging than I expected.

Our leader was a large, burly man who knew the migrant trails like the back of his hand. While he took calm strides, whisking around the thorn bushes with ease, I quickly became lost in the bumpy turns and prickly shrubs of the dry landscape. Barely a minute into the excursion, the rest of the group was lost behind us, and numerous times we stopped to wait for the others. Even once we regained our distance and met up with the guide again, in seconds, we were once again left behind, hobbling through the vegetation, trying to catch up.

All the while, I felt the overbearing presence of being watched. Over the wall was a Border Patrol station with cameras able to see the color of my eyes from afar. Not only were their eyes on us, but “coyotes,” members of the cartel who smuggled the migrants, were simultaneously observing us.

By the time we were just ahead of the border wall, my legs had been scraped and pricked, and my arms and hair were well acquainted with the sharp spines of the thicket. As I sank across the small dunes, I looked up in both awe and disgust at the looming metal wall in front of me. I watched as others approached the wall, shrinking in comparison to the gigantic metal barrier.

Seeing the might of this 30-foot wall, I felt I truly grasped the desperation many migrants faced. In just a minute, men, women, and children, having just crossed the desert, had to scale this wall in the dark of the night. This wall, which acted as a hindrance to both people and nature, was designed to kill. Just out of sight were the Border Patrol agents on the other side, simply waiting for the sensors on the bottom of the wall to alert them that they could chase after those who crossed the wall and, if necessary, put their deadly rifles to use.

As I stared at the wall that overshadowed the highest mountains and left a red stain on the earth, I was overwhelmed by the lengths humans go to turn their hatred into reality. How could someone design a wall at the exact height it would take to kill someone if they fall? Why were U.S. agents shooting across the border into Mexico to put holes in the barrels of water left out for the dehydrated, dying migrants? How have we gone so long allowing our tax dollars to fund a deadly barrier and bullets in the backs of human beings? How did I ever believe my reposts of activism on social media were ever enough to stop this?

I am filled with so much frustration and rage. Yet, I haven’t given up; in fact, after this trip, I have also been filled with hope for a future without borders. Birds and butterflies have become a symbol of this hope as they continue their migration over the walls. Our guide taught us that each monsoon season, the flowing flash floods tear down parts of the wall. Through these glimpses of hope, I know nature will win. God’s Earth, a land not intended for borders and walls dividing God’s creation, will be united.

Justyna Jakacki (she/her) is a freshman studying psychology.

Photo: Members of the group standing next to the wall after the hike through the desert.