Today Hannah went to court to support two Samaritans who were recently arrested for assisting 3 immigrant travelers who they found in the desert suffering bloody stools and hallucinations – late stage dehydration. After consulting with a physician by phone, they were taking the travelers to the hospital and were stopped by border guards and arrested. The travelers, who were showing signs of recovery (often false bravado after a few sips of water) were released. There wasn’t enough room for us in the courtroom, but still it was good we showed up at the arraignment to show support for the Samaritans.
From there, Deb and Ed took Hannah into Mexico to see what real poverty looks like. We drive up and down steep streets, houses hanging onto the side with improbable tenacity. The wall separating the US from Mexico is made of sheets of rusted, corrugated steel with rolled razor wire across the top. Decorating the Mexican side are crosses commemorating souls lost in transit. The eager sales people try to engage with smiles and commonalities – where you from? I know that place. Come in. Come see. You never know.”
True. You never know. But Hannah and I certainly know more than we did a few days ago about the disparities in defining the word “poor.”