Not all saints nor all martyrs or all savages: Migrants

Good migrants; bad migrants. Forced migrants; migrants in disguise. Good migrants who in days are bad; bad migrants who from time to time are good.

Migrants who flee; migrants who escape. Migrants who hide; migrants who pounce. Migrants of contrasts. Migrants from the outermost. Not all saints nor all martyrs or all savages.

These are the thousands of Central Americans who ventured to cross Mexico to seek asylum in the North. They are distinct and individual; judged by all and understood by few. It is they, yes, they who, in their eagerness to survive a violent agony in their lands, preferred to surrender to the mercy of destiny, the people and the charity of Mexicans. What motivated them? Perhaps hunger, fear or, why not? Politics.

There are stories of families that were victims of the insatiable thirst for the power of others, but in their need they decided to believe in anything, even the not-so-pious lies of the manipulative political strategists. They were pawns. They did not know that their journey would be used against them … but it was an electoral period where everything was used to secure a seat in the U.S. Congress. More fear, more votes. Peace does not reach the polls. You had to sacrifice something. This time, the price were the migrants.

They traveled shielded in an infiltrated caravan. The good ones being good; the bad guys pretending to be. We saw them. It was an intense month of powerful images in favor and against the displaced, mostly Hondurans … some showed the struggle, the zeal and perseverance; in others indecisiveness, indifference and the disdain. Brazen ends; distinct realities, mixed feelings.

But the journey in search of an idealized and ill-defined American dream not only showed the faces of those who traveled with backpacks and children on their shoulders, but also of Mexican society polarized by its passage. The Aztec earth shook with discomfort and compassion; some made faces and others gave smiles. But all, to want and not, became protagonists or accomplices of a mass exodus of migrants who bare and exposes the humanitarian crisis that is experienced in Central America and sneaks up under the sack of Uncle Sam.

Mexico saw them, embraced them, spit on them, sheltered them and despised them, contradictions that can only be explained by the discomfort caused by seeing their own reality and the same pains, but with another flag. Mexico also suffers. Mexico can also be racist.

Not all migrants are Hondurans or eat beans; There are also Mexicans fleeing, expelled by hunger, drug trafficking and poverty. Of those, we must also speak when those who leave are demonized. There is that tendency so typical of human weakness to criticize and judge what is not understood. It is not a question of flags or walls, but of a crisis that travels, stagnates, asks for political asylum, disperses, keeps moving and never resolves. Migrants move and mutate; they move … but fear, that does not go away, it is based on lands where nothing grows more than the corruption that forces exile. We are all migrants, only some move in caravan and others only travel with the heart.