Part I

No matter how tall or wide the wall across the vast Mexican/American border is, the will of the immigrants will always find a way to get to a destination where jobs are awaiting them. I guess it would be hard for any immigrant to leave their family, even when at times the young ones are unable to understand why this imminent and necessary abandonment is pursued.

For many immigrants who ventured to the north, Mexico is not a distant memory, but a distant place without opportunities, hunger and desperation. In Texas, where family and friends could be up to five minutes away, a border town feels like a daily reminder of the why’s, when’s and how’s of making the deadly trip across the river and desert.

“BP, BP”, that’s the authority in this town. Border Patrol can be seen in almost every corner of the city; airport, roads, checkpoints, gas station, the flea market and of course the border.

The whole town felt as if it was disconnected from the rest of the country. Maybe that can be said about other small border towns across the southern states along the Republic of Mexico, but San Juan, Texas was unique in my experience.

Out of the thousands of immigrants that successfully make it pass the dangerous obstacles, and the border patrol, many of them are disperse across the United States to be with family, friends or where jobs are available. Some will stay close to their home country; those will stay in San Juan, Texas (or any other border town).

Las Colonias
In Mexico, Colonies are often described as a territorial division inside cities and towns. Also a Colony can be a group of people from another territory, making another piece of land their own. In History and Politics a colony is a territory under the immediate control of a state, some colonies are without definite statehood from their inception.

I choose the historical and political definition to describe San Juan, Texas.

Some of these colonies look like beach towns, along palm trees, sand roads, but no beach, I forgot I was in the desert.

I travel to the Colonias several times, once with Ann Cass the executive Director of Proyecto Azteca, and a great source of information. She worked at the UFW (United Farm Workers), with Cesar Chavez back in the 1980’s and has dedicated her life to help those in need, especially the immigrant community in McAllen and San Juan, Texas. Let’s just say she has been saying “Si Se Puede” (“yes we can” way before Barack Obama made it popular in English.

Back to the Colonias.
The other times, I traveled to the Colonias with our camera in hand and a thirst to find the true face of the Colonias. Several trips were made following a GPS system that at times seemed to be on a lunch break. Getting lost was part of the trip and finding our way back was more rewarding than knowing our destination.

There may be many neighborhoods resembling the Colonias across the Nation and this vast globe, but all of them are unique. The social structure or the people of a community will cement itself far more deeply than its infrastructure at any given place.

The definition of the Texas Valley Colonias varied from person to person. Some argued that Colonias were communities from the ground up, were families invaded the land and made them their own. Others argue that through organizations and advocacy they were able to acquired the land on fair terms, others commented on the fact that they bought the land from predatory lenders and subprime loans and now owned a piece of land which they have lived, but weren’t able to pay it anymore.

All of the above were right at some point or another, depending on the family or the Colonia.
We were at the Colonias during the day most of our time, not because we wanted it that way, but our schedule almost never allowed it, due to the fact that the Colonias are marginalized by the city and authorities and once the sun is out, it all becomes pitch black. Yes! There was no public electricity at the ones we visited.

During the day, some streets felt strangely desolated. Even when school was out and at any other given place, you would see kids playing, young boys and girls hanging out, it was rare for us to be there for hours and hardly see any people.

No house ever looked the same; they were unique even within the same structural resources which the owners had to build them. Some of them looked as they were victims of hurricane Dolly back in 2008 and never got fixed. Some were half way through their construction or reconstruction cycle, and of course some looked great. Surrounding the houses, skinny horses, chickens, roosters and straight dogs, decorated the outdoors of this picturesque community.

On the main roads many taco stands, little marquetas and tortilla shops, coasted the Colonias, where its residents stop to buy what was needed and catch up on the local, and very internal news. As I learned one day, when Luis and I were looking for a rooster farm for cockfighting, I stopped at one of the many local stores, and I ended up buying two Tacos al Pastor, got the directions, and found out that La Migra away some immigrant residents’ days before not far from where I was buying my goods.

Part II coming soon………….