10.10.06 -- 4:45 AM
We set out in less than six hours and I haven't slept. Seven hours ago, before I read the Houston Chronicle article about Jay Johnson-Castro, I had no idea I would be traveling to Laredo to document his journey. 350 miles and an X-Large Monster energy drink later, I sit here in the business center of the rather swanky La Posada hotel. The hotel is less than two football fields away from the Rio Grande. I can see Mexico. I have never been to the border (save for when I was brought here "illegaly" while a toddler); never seen the fiercely contested imaginary line drawn by Man across our silent Mother. But I will see every single inch of the 203 miles of it that lie between Laredo and Brownsville.
So far, the group consists of Jay Johnson-Castro and myself. How many--if any--will join us, I don't know. I don't know many things: where we're going to sleep, what we're going to eat, what our route will be, where we'll "use the John" as Jay said in the Houston Chronicle article. Actually, I don't even know what Jay looks like. I've only spoken to him on the phone but we haven't met yet. We're having coffee in less than three hours, though . . . three hours. And I haven't so much as laid my head on a pillow and probably won't tonight. I don't know if it's remnants of the adrenaline that coursed through my veins as I hastily packed my bags and loaded my equipment into my 1997 Honda Civic or the caffeine in the Monster--but I'm not tired.
Jay seemed cool on the phone. "Bring a pair of good walking shoes and a hat," he said after I explained to him who I was and what I wanted to do. Lydia (haven't gotten her last name yet) has volunteered as Jay's publicist and will try to help us in anyway she can (trying to arrange a place for us to sleep, food, a "John," etc. She's already being motherly, calling me "Mijo" (an endearing spanish word meaning "son") and telling me not to worry. I'm not sure of her age but by the sound of her voice it doesn't seem like she's old enough to be my mother. But I apprieciate the gesture; it was comforting. Steve is the final member of our band of conscientious adventurers. I'm pretty sure I detected an accent, British maybe, but I can't be sure since he was waking from a nap and I was running on massive amounts of caffiene. We spoke only briefly but I think he mentioned that he was the editor of a newspaper in . . . I forgot what small town. I'll find out and let y'all know.
I don't have any money, I don't have any idea what to expect, I don't know how long this journey will take. All I have is my Panasonic DVX100b, some clothes and the firm belief that the proposed fence will do much more harm than good.
I can't wait to get started.
So far, the group consists of Jay Johnson-Castro and myself. How many--if any--will join us, I don't know. I don't know many things: where we're going to sleep, what we're going to eat, what our route will be, where we'll "use the John" as Jay said in the Houston Chronicle article. Actually, I don't even know what Jay looks like. I've only spoken to him on the phone but we haven't met yet. We're having coffee in less than three hours, though . . . three hours. And I haven't so much as laid my head on a pillow and probably won't tonight. I don't know if it's remnants of the adrenaline that coursed through my veins as I hastily packed my bags and loaded my equipment into my 1997 Honda Civic or the caffeine in the Monster--but I'm not tired.
Jay seemed cool on the phone. "Bring a pair of good walking shoes and a hat," he said after I explained to him who I was and what I wanted to do. Lydia (haven't gotten her last name yet) has volunteered as Jay's publicist and will try to help us in anyway she can (trying to arrange a place for us to sleep, food, a "John," etc. She's already being motherly, calling me "Mijo" (an endearing spanish word meaning "son") and telling me not to worry. I'm not sure of her age but by the sound of her voice it doesn't seem like she's old enough to be my mother. But I apprieciate the gesture; it was comforting. Steve is the final member of our band of conscientious adventurers. I'm pretty sure I detected an accent, British maybe, but I can't be sure since he was waking from a nap and I was running on massive amounts of caffiene. We spoke only briefly but I think he mentioned that he was the editor of a newspaper in . . . I forgot what small town. I'll find out and let y'all know.
I don't have any money, I don't have any idea what to expect, I don't know how long this journey will take. All I have is my Panasonic DVX100b, some clothes and the firm belief that the proposed fence will do much more harm than good.
I can't wait to get started.
posted by Jesse Salmeron at 2:14 AM
2 Comments:
OMG!!!! this is the most awesome thing anyone i know has ever done! :) it gave me hope, a sense of security and brought a smile to my face.
When I read "The Alchemist" it said that we are all writing our own stories, and some of us go on without knowing that we're writing it ... so we make no effort to make this story interesting ... don't give it a climax, a problem, a solution ... we don't write our story ... i'm so proud you're writing yours.
Jay, you and others in your journey are not alone. There are many of us that for different reasons cannot physically be there. We are conscious of this couragous act for justice. We are working in different ways to bring unjust walls down and to build a world that recognizes that all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. We join Jay, you and others in the same walk for a better world. And yes we are united in our conviction that "a better world is possible."
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