Sin Nombre" and was a work of fiction based on real events.
Tonight, I saw the perfect companion piece to this movie. "Which Way Home" is a documentary -- nominated for an Academy Award in 2010 and directed by Rebecca Cammisa -- that follows a group of children ranging from 17 years old to as young as 9, if you can imagine, who face these unbelievable hardships and dangers of riding the trains to find a better life in America.
Whatever your politics are regarding immigration, they can and should be left at the door here, as there is no refuting the courageous and emotional journey these kids set out on -- nearly all of them either trying to reunite with their families already in the country, or to find jobs to help their families back home.
They leave notes for their mothers before they leave, and talk to them on borrowed cell phones on the tracks -- forced laughter keeping them from crying, as their mothers pray for them on the other end of the line. They light up when they are asked how they imagine the United States to be, and their answers are heartbreaking in their simpleness and naivete.
The most poignant of these comes from 9-year-olds Olga and Kenny, who come from Honduras. Olga, who hasn't seen her mother in three years, happily describes reuniting with her family in Minnesota and playing in the snow with her sisters -- before breaking into tears. They want to be doctors. We last see them walking away along the rails, dwarfed and enveloped as they merge with hundreds of their fellow travelers.
One aspect documented here that I was not aware of is the existence of Grupos Beta -- an organization formed by Mexican Immigration, which, rather than enforcing the law, provides water, medical aid and educates the migrants about the dangers they will face. In light of the illegalities and polarizing politics that frame this heinous underground world these people have chosen to travail, I found this example of genuine humanity to be impressive.
|Young migrants ride 'The Beast.' (HBO)|
"It tore him into three pieces," one kid says, remarking on a graphic newspaper photo showing the remains of a recent victim. "That's what happens when you fall on the rails."
Someone asks him, "So you're going back to Honduras then?"
"Nah, you're crazy man," he responds, laughing and without hesitation. "No, I'm not going back to Honduras."
Their parents are left to wonder where they are, if they're still alive, and to sign death certificates when they're not -- sometimes having to endure the wait of DNA releases because the bodies of their children are too decomposed to identify.
Earlier I mentioned the politics of immigration. This is a film that does not tread in that area but rather addresses the situations that may lead to the immigration problem in the first place. Are there things that can be done before illegal immigration becomes a last resort for these desperate people?
A director of a rest area, set up along the rails to allow traveling migrants a place to sleep, makes an empassioned speech, bordering on a plea, about the harsh realities that face every one of these travelers.
As he speaks, perhaps it is most important to reflect on how awful their lives must be back home that they are willing to risk all of these horrors -- to hear these words, and still have the unwavering determination to venture on ...
Mexico is the passage of death for you.
The freight train can be your best friend
because it will help you travel.
But it can also be your worst enemy.
It can kill you.
The United States is not the passage of death,
the United States is 'Death itself.'
At the border during the day, temperatures go from 120
up to 140 degrees.
And this jug (holding up a drum-sized container)
will not even last you for 3 days of traveling.
It is proven that at the border
out of every 100 migrants,
between 10 and 20, or more, will die.
Maybe many of you here will die.
Many of you will never see your families again.
Many of you here will never return to your countries.
Because you will die on the way.
who really wants to get to the United States?
Raise your hand.
Everyone ... (he acknowledges)