ShareThisPhotographer Wilhelm Scholz and I were recently on the phone talking about photos he took and which one worked best in a presentation we were preparing. Three years ago, we traveled to, among other places, the Arizona desert just south of Tucson. Our book documents how people are moving all across the world, following the seven directions. We wanted to write and shoot about our little corner of it.
Today, four times the number of people than in the 1960s have gone to live or work in a country other than the one in which they were born. The world is on the move.
Everywhere people are venturing to the remotest corners. We focused on those who transplant themselves because of work and family necessities. But the same is true for expats and those who leave for leisure and retirement, vacationers, eco- and other tourists, the curious, students, workers and business-opportunity seekers.
The evolution of affordable travels and virtually telepathic communications allow people to receive images about what's on the other side of the mountain. With the slightest ambition, they go to see for themselves. That dynamic is taking place everywhere.
More than 4 million U.S. citizens live abroad, upwards of 500,000 in Mexico.
Often cited among reasons why more U.S. migrants have left since 1910 is the search for a brand new life, often away from the social and demographic changes taking place at home. It's not that the expatriates fall out of love with our country but that some simply fall in love with a foreigner, another country, or a lifestyle, maybe intending to return but established roots elsewhere.
For others who like shadowy explanations, a parallel is drawn sometimes to growing disillusionment, as in the decade 1910-20 when the 56,000 migrants leaving doubled to 117,000.
After a lengthy debate, Wilhelm Scholz and I settled on which photo out of dozens would represent that desert border region in Arizona and the story about modern migration. It is one with vast pewter clouds in the sky, matched by an expanse of desert floor and brush. Off to one side is a blue barrel with a flag at the end of a long pole that can be seen from far away. A symbol of compassion. The blue flag signals where a barrel of water is kept.
It also marks a place of very mixed but intense values that define our time. Our attitudes disdain strangers who seek a better way for themselves when they enter unauthorized. Yet we try to be humane about it and don't want them to perish along the way. That's why what happened in December to Walt Staton, 27, a Tucson man, is troubling.
He was cited for littering in the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge after Border Patrol agents spotted him placing unopened gallon water containers intended for unauthorized migrants crossing the border southwest of Tucson. He was a volunteer for a Presbyterian-supported humanitarian group. A jury convicted Staton, who is due to begin seminary in California, although he was restricted from testifying about his faith and moral beliefs.
Staton told the judge he intended to continue giving humanitarian aid in the desert and was sentenced to 300 hours of trash pick-up community service.
His is only the latest of law-and-order rough cuts into delicate matters needing a surgeon's laser scalpel so that the intention to repair is more evident than an intent to punish.
Whether they are coming here or we are going there, routes in the seven directions get us there. There are north, south, east and west, of course. There are also two others -- above and below.
But the one that explains what it means to give water or deny it, and Staton was on to something here, is the direction that goes within.
Jose de la Isla's latest digital book, sponsored by The Ford Foundation, is available free at www.DayNightLifeDeathHope.com. He writes a weekly commentary for Hispanic Link News Service.. E-mail him at joseisla3(at)yahoo.com. For more stories visit scrippsnews.com
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