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The comment I didn't write . . . -

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This paragraph is all I have time for right now, but here it is—I just (almost) finished watching and hearing Trevor Noah’s interview of that … forgot her name, I’ll look it up.  I want to forget she exists but she keeps us on our toes.  This is her reference to “illegal immigrants”“getting in line” ahead of “people who have spent thousands of dollars” [to get in that line that forms somewhere north of Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua, and south of El Paso, Texas].

[It’s pretty obvious that one paragraph turned into several, but I still have time constraints so no editing, here is an actual diary]

It is so true that people spend piles of pesos (in Mexico, anyway) to get a visa.  The U.S. embassy requires a minimum of one interview per applicant—and usually many more.  The last figure I heard for the amount charged Mexicans for these interviews was $100 (U.S.) each.  It’s more now.Each one of these people has already proved that they are gainfully employed (in Mexico) and will be able to return to their job when they get home.  They have produced statements from BancoMexico that they have considerable savings to support themselves while they are in the U.S.  Think of what these figures might add up to while I go over the situation of someone in Mexico who most probably doesn’t have the bucks (U.S.) to fly AeroMexico from Mexico City to one of those cities targeted by “illegal” people and be cut out of the line that forms into the United States—Dallas, for example.  Or Washington D.C.

In two world wars (a little applicable history here) Mexico was entreated by Germany to declare as their ally.  Mexico was a strong trading partner of Western Europe, especially Germany, and for Mexico to say no was picking a scary negative economic situation for an unknown length of time.  The United States, both times, fronted loans to Mexico to make up for their ultimate decision—to remain an ally of the U.S.

When Richard Nixon happened to be president here, the loans came due.  Mexico couldn’t pay—that country had lost way too much in loss of trade to make up in a few years.  We (via our government) presented Mexico with a deal:  the loans were refinanced in return for allowing us (see parentheses above) a strong and often deciding hand in BancoMexico (Mexican economic) policy decisions.  

The vast majority of Mexico’s economy was agricultural then (it’s still hugely agricultural).  The ejido system had even then cut individual farms (the majority of agricultural land) to a smaller-than-prosperous size.  A decision long ago, required by the U.S., created U.S. ability to dump (subsidized) corn on the Mexican market.  Corn is the major crop of family farms.  Dumping U.S. corn drives its price down.  A majority of agricultural land being family farms, poverty increased with each drop in corn prices.  

Manufacturing was moved to Mexico in fits and starts.  The U.S. refused to buy Mexican oil.  Congress bowed to the Communist Menace factor of PetroMexico, in 1980.  It hadn’t been long that Reagan raved about the Communists in Nicaragua “crossing the Pecos” into the United States; although we from the Southwest know that the Pecos River is hundreds of miles north of the Rio Grande, which is the border and a formidable river to cross, especially considering the dearth of amphibious vehicles in Nicaragua’s guerilla groups. 

 Automobiles were manufactured for a while for a while, then NAFTA happened and the Mexican government’s position--whatever it was and whether or not the Mexican government cared that much about the money family farms would make and if the U.S. pressure on their economic policy was the deciding factor it was designed to be—it doesn’t matter now.  NAFTA was a disaster for Mexico and its people.  The number of people below Mexico’s official poverty line increased 20% from the time NAFTA immigrated into that country and the time its sweatshops closed.

I personally know so many Mexicans who chose to come here or starve, or watch their families starve, or lose ill children who weren’t cared for in any way by their country of birth, or any of many reasons of desperation based on their spiritual strength, love for their families, and the feeling that I and other U. S. Americans had—that the border was a an invisible, meaningless part of the desert.  Even in El Paso/Ciudad Juarez it wasn’t always in the same place; the border moved north and south with the Rio Grande and whether or not the Chamizal—the sandy, reedy island that formed and disappeared, formed and disappeared in the river--was declared to be Mexico or the U.S.  If ever there were an artificial border, the frontera of the Southwest U.S./Northwest Mexico is it.

The torture that Mexicans desperate enough to get into the U.S. endure surely proves their commitment.  I wonder how much (U.S.) the “legal” people in line would pay to avoid what the poorest, most desperate people of Mexico go through to get here. [To describe that would be many many more paragraphs just to get started] .  I wonder even more how much (U.S.) it would cost us here to eliminate the monetary requirements for entrance, and instead find a way to quantify and appreciate the enrichment, the understanding, the skills and knowledge, that immigrants add to this country—this country surrounded by oceans and mountains, two peaceful nations north and south, occupying land and using resources taken from the legal citizens (!) already here by immigrant ancestors.  I have hundreds of those, and think about that almost every day.  And about how much I have been given by the new neighbors and friends that immigration gives me as well.  I know I’m lucky. 


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