Two stories from the borderlands

#1

It was a hot, southern-Texan day. I took a deep breath before I opened the door of Martin's air-conditioned car and stepped into the dusty, scorching landscape of the ranch. Martin, my supervisor, and I were there to survey the population of peyote at the site. Peyote is a psychoactive cactus that grows in the Tamaulipan thornscrub. Out here, plants grow dense, and they all have thorns.

We took our spare food and water and hid them under a nearby bush, to avoid the car's heat, then left the car parked at the gate, as we always did, and headed into the ranch.

Some time later, dehydrated, hot and exhausted after a few hours of finding and measuring cacti in +40°C we headed back. As we were climbing down from the hill towards our car, I noticed lots of shiny, blinking lights. “It must be a mirage”, - was my first thought. Then, a second thought: - “Wow, it’s such realistic mirage!”. But, as we came closer, we realized it was police, preparing to tow our car away. A few more metres, and I see, to my horror, that it is not any police, but Narcotics Police. In my head I am starting to think what I am going to say to them. I would start by saying that we know the landowner, and have his permission to be here. Then I would explain that we are scientists, and I am a visiting researcher from Imperial College London, collecting data for my master’s dissertation. We are here to study rare cacti, specifically interested in peyote. There is some evidence that peyote populations in the USA are declining, peyote is becoming increasingly rare, and is severely over-harvested, but there are very few ecological studies to verify this claim. Therefore, here we are, officer, collecting the data to understand what is the actual, on the ground situation with peyote here in Texas. No sir, we are not harvesting or collecting peyote, just doing surveys of their populations, examining where they are and how to they look. No sir, we are not going to share this information, it is strictly for research, no we are not connected to peyote dealers in any way etc… As I walk down the hill, I am rehearsing this story, and in my exhausted state, it sounds less and less convincing… My brain goes into a bit of meltdown. The air is still, and somewhat shimmering, as it does on very hot days, and everything is very quiet.

As we come close, the police are evidently surprised to see us. I start explaining who we are and what are we doing there, but they are not particularly interested in cacti conservation or even peyote. They thought that the car has been stolen by the drug traffickers, and has been abandoned at this ranch near the Mexican border. Once they made sure that it belongs to my supervisor, they apologized and waved us goodbye.

#2

Another time, looking for my cacti, I found a hoodie. It was a very ordinary looking, gray fleecy hoodie, completely out of place in the middle of thornscrub. I picked it up, and realized it was still wet with sweat. I looked around, but there were just shrubs as far as I could see. Yet I could not shake off a feeling that I was being watched. I turned around slowly … still, no one was there.

I remembered sitting on a porch with one of the landowners, trying to convince them to allow me on their property, to do a survey of their cacti. Although unsuccessful that time, a few hours talking were really interesting and somewhat disturbing. The rancher (wearing cowboy boots and a couple of pistols on his belt) kept complaining about a constant flow of people trespassing, breaking fences and occasionally dying on his property. I was really shocked how annoyed he seemed at the latter, as if to say: “How dare they are to die on my property!”, rather than provide help and water for poor people who so much needed it. Now, together with border patrol, they have set up camera traps and alarms to photograph whoever trespasses through his land.

Yet I also remembered talking to many friends of my supervisor, trauma therapists and activists working, often pro bono, at detention centers to help migrants, stop the separations of families and ensure human rights are observed. They work tirelessly, saying no to cynicism and hatred. Their views could not be more different, and I remember wondering what would be a way to bridge the gap between those worldviews, and if it’s even possible.

I put the hoodie back where I found it, and continued along my transect, eager to get away. But, as I moved further through the scrub, more and more things started to appear: gallon bottles with water, more clothes, plastic wrappings, eventually a couple of backpacks, looking very full. The eerie feeling intensified. I felt hair on my arms slowly rising, despite it being really hot. “That’s enough fieldwork for today”, - I thought, and moved out of that creepy place as fast as possible.

Re-telling these two stories, made me reflect on my own attitudes, and societies’ attitudes to authorities and rules, beliefs about what is societal (in)justice, and how the issues of trust and distrust play out in our thoughts and behaviours.

Anya Ermakova