WWJD?

 

 Jesus, as in Jesus from Mexico, who decided one day he was no longer going to live a life of extreme poverty and be afraid to walk outside, where fights were settled with knives or bullets. There were no jobs, no help, no Pancho Villas to inspire them, only drug lords and mule runners who preyed upon the citizens. So he grabbed a small bag of his most personal possessions, pictures of his mama and papa, a rosary, perhaps, an old portable radio and a whole lot of courage and faith to undertake his journey.

He did everything he was supposed to do as he reached the border, seeking asylum, getting a green card which allowed him to work in the US. And work he did, from 6am to when they could no longer see the beans or the strawberries they were picking, seven days a week. They traveled around the country, wherever they were needed. If a worker became ill, he was abandoned and replaced with another obrero.

They knew about the faceless agents who were coming for them. They tried to stay one step ahead of them, warned by the bosses who kept in touch, their bosses who couldn't afford to be caught. Not that they were worried about any repercussions. The bosses were untouchable, but they worried about the crops in the fields going to waste, losing money. Jesus wasn't even concerned about his own safety. He had his green card. Late at night, when his fellow compadres slept, Jesus would listen to his portable radio and learn English. He worried for Rosalie and Margarita who ran from abusive relationships to now work sixteen hours a day, with no light, no hope of life getting better. 

They were waiting for them when they were at their most vulnerable. Tired and hungry after working the onion fields for twelve hours. Too tired to run, too beaten down to resist. They were zip tied and marched to waiting buses. Even children as young as five were bound and pushed into the crowd of weeping parents. 

Jesus showed his card to the masked man who ignored his pleas. He was shoved and beaten with a baton across the back of his legs as the agents rounded them up. He could see the bosses watching from a distance, counting the days yield, unmoved by the upheaval unfolding before them. 

Caged with 32 other men in the sweltering heat, where food was scarce and fighting was common. His pleas to be heard went unanswered until a man in a suit called his name. He said, "Your green card is useless. You don't belong here. They don't want you. You now have a decision to make, Jesus. Remain here in this sweltering swamp for who knows how long to perhaps one day get a trial, or get on a plane back to where you came from. I'd take the one way ticket, compliments of the American tax payers. See, they'd rather let their vegetables and fruit rot rather than have you here. So, think about it. You've got three days before the first group is sent back. Just remember, amigo, you are not welcome here. That should make your decision easy enough."

*Florida is beginning the purge of immigrants, whether here legally or by profound hope they will be saved, they will be given a one way ticket out of the United States. This is who we are now.