Overview of Itinerary:

Our two days in Tijuana were carefully planned by UHI’s community partners, Dignicraft. Arriving via the Pedestrian West Walkway from San Diego, we congregated in a small piazza celebrating the entry into Tijuana, while we waited to meet our Universidad Autonoma Mexican de Cuajimalpa counterparts. Attached is a detailed itinerary of our trip, but we want to focus in particular on three events that shaped our experience: our visit to the shelter Embajadores de Jesús at Alacrán Canyon, dinner at Cine Tonalá, and lunch at Estación Federal a mixed-use development in the cross-border area.

Akana:

I felt self conscious arriving at Embajadores de Jesús in our large buses. The roads to the shelter were so eroded that I wasn’t sure if we would even make it there. Stepping out into Alacrán Canyon, I felt like I had stepped into a scene from Vicky Funari and Sergio de la Torre’s, Maquilapolis. It was hard to deny that the little creek flowing past was filled with as much garbage and sewage as fresh water. Yet, children were giggling and running around, seemingly unaffected by the smell that I was finding so hard to ignore. Entering the shelter we were greeted by Pastor Banda who quickly ushered us into the high ceilinged space and had us arrange chairs around a presentation area. I was aware that we were not entering an empty space. Life as usual was going on around us in the shelter. Tents were set up along the periphery of the large space and a woman was braiding a little girl’s hair. In another corner of the room, doctors dressed in scrubs were conducting what looked like a health camp.

Pastor Banda began his presentation, telling us the history of his shelter - an incredibly moving story of perseverance and altruism. The next segment of the program was a presentation by the photojournalist Omar Martinez, who has been documenting the struggles and victories of Tijuaneados over the last few decades. As Omar was setting up, a group of three men hoisted a ladder towards the projector mounted on the ceiling - some 30 feet off the ground. We must have all collectively held our breath as we watched a man scale the ladder - now resting on a shallow beam beneath the corrugated metal ceiling - to adjust the projector ever so slightly so that it was better positioned on the screen. “This is a bad idea” is all I could think as I sat there watching, feeling helpless and saying nothing, while knowing that my peers were probably feeling the same way I was. As he began to descend, the ladder slipped off the beam, and began falling. At this point I could no longer watch.

Rojelio who fell from the ladder that afternoon, hurt his shoulder, hip and heel. Despite the free healthcare in Mexico, we know that the time he is unable to work and provide for his family is the real cost of his injury.

This incident fundamentally changed the course of our trip. In the aftermath of Rojelio’s accident, I felt a sense of responsibility for his misfortune. He was adjusting the projector for us, I kept thinking. Once Rojelio was taken to the hospital, Omar Martinez continued with his presentation and Dignicraft pushed on with the rest of the days program.

In retrospect, Rojelio’s accident catalysed an uneasiness I was feeling from the moment we entered the shelter. What are we doing here? This is someone's home - were some of the thoughts I was wrestling with. I could not shake the feeling that we had intruded on a space despite having been invited there by Pastor Banda.

Manos, what were your feelings about this? Does our discomform say more about us than about our hosts? And is a little discomfort something we should gladly face in order to confront some of the issues around borders and commons facing these communities?

Manos:

Underpinning all of the places we had the opportunity to visit over the weekend is the Mexican conviction in the importance of hospitality and helping out others. At the Shelter Embajadores de Jesús at Alacrán Canyon, Pastor Banda welcomed us into his community and the residents living therein welcomed us into their home. At the informal settlement Diez de Mayo, Jorge Calderon gave us a glimpse into his life’s work, inviting us to eat tamales at the locally built community park. As outsiders coming into these communities we need to be cognizant of both our immediate impact as well as the preconceived notions that we bring along with us. We need to be critical about our roles as UCLA students and privileged researchers as we enter spaces that are new to us and that we do not fully understand. As Akana mentioned earlier, it is exactly for this reason that I believe our visit allowed us to be observers rather than spectators, and it is specifically because of the unending hospitality, warmth, and desire to show us a piece of their lives that our community partners made the experience so impactful. 

This trip was defined by discomfort. I experienced discomfort seeing the unsanitary and testing conditions in Alacrán Canyon, I felt embarrassment entering into the homes of the refugees at Embajadores de Jesús and intruding on their daily lives, and I felt deep pain and responsibility for the injuries Rojelio sustained trying to improve our experience. However, I think that discomfort can be constructive in many ways, and acknowledging our discomfort can help identify what actions we need to take moving forward. 

In order to make good on the implicit promise that we made by entering into these spaces, we need to not only spread the word about the beauty and struggle that we observed as well as recount the incredible stories that we heard, but we must also take action whenever we can with whatever levers of power become available to us in university and beyond. Rojelio fixed the projector position for us, he fixed it to ensure that the young students in the audience left knowing that we were treated in the best possible way. It is up to us to make sure his actions are not forgotten.

Hopefully getting these stories on paper is a step in the right direction. I don't think that Rojelio’s injury is an indication that we should never go to these places, that we should not engage in the future for fear of doing more harm than good. Rather, what happened should push us to try as hard as we can to ensure that as much good comes out of our work as possible. Good is defined by the communities and people we interact with, and it seems that understanding what is “good” cannot come without intentional self-critique and without leaning into discomfort. Experiences like the trip to Tijuana have made that reality clear to me.

However, that doesn't mean that all discomfort is constructive. I am conflicted on how to feel about us ending this formative day with a beautiful dinner on the rooftop of Cine Tonalá. In many ways it felt a bit disingenuous, like we were papering over the difficult thoughts and conversations we had throughout the day. I am not sure if allowing us to keep digesting the events, to stay focused on what had happened, would have been better served via smaller conversations in our hotel rooms or in less impressive surroundings than on a lovely rooftop with food and drink. UHI forces us to navigate discomfort and to think critically about the decisions we make. In this instance, I think we may have made the wrong one.

Akana:

I share similar feelings about the visit to Embajadores de Jesús culminating in a fancy dinner at Cine Tonalá. I remember feeling incredibly guilty sitting on the beautiful rooftop, enjoying delicious food and sharing conversation with my classmates. I wondered then, and I sometimes still wonder now, “would it have been better to just donate the money we are spending here at this restaurant to the migrant shelter?” Although in the height of my discomfort this felt like the solution - to just disengage and throw money at a problem - upon reflection I know that this would be a bandaid, feel-good, mess-free solution that would ultimately be short lived. As Señor Calderon insisted, they do not want money.

I feel that ultimately, our role as designers, planners, thinkers and social activists is to uncover and enact solutions that money can’t buy. Understanding the communities we want to empower is the first step in this process. As Manos brought to light, Mexican culture is incredibly giving. I am in awe of the generosity we experienced in Tijuana. Señor Calderon’s tamale meant more to me than any fancy meal I’ve been given. I felt guilty, eating this meal, knowing that it would have cost him. It felt a little bit like taking from those who don’t have. But I think if I were to have abstained from participating, it would have cost him much more. Looking back, my feelings of guilt and unease in these situations were ultimately about me, and thus, inherently selfish. Calderon’s gesture showed me that he is part of a community that despite hardship, is thriving. It is one that wants to give. It is one that is proud of what they’ve accomplished. It is counterproductive of me to pity what I perceive to be their “plight”.

Similarly, the stark juxtaposition of dinner at Cine Tonalá and our visit to Embajadores de Jesús although initially jarring and uncomfortable was ultimately a productive and inspiring one for me. It showed me that Tijuana is not just a migrant border town fraught with violence and drug crime. It is not just a city of informal settlements where residents are exploited by Maquiladoras. It is not just a non-place filled with people waiting to cross the border. This is not to say that these things don’t exist in Tijuana, this is to say that there is another reality as well. On Avenida Revolucion and at Cine Tonalá we experienced a Tijuana proud of its culture and heritage, a Tijuana that’s trying to show there’s more than the gruesome images we see on the news. To not have experienced this vibrant side of the city, to come away from our trip only having seen the strife and poverty, I feel, would have been a disservice to it.

I do feel, however, that to go the other extreme, to act as though the border doesn’t exist, is a gross distortion of reality. The founder of Estacion Federal, Miguel Marshall, during his presentation on the second day of our trip said “I don’t see a border,” when talking about how he travels to and from San Diego from Tijuana, on account of his dual citizenship. I found this extremely offensive. To make such a statement in the face of so many migrant deaths on the border seemed incredibly insensitive to me. As I think back on it now, it’s hard to discount someone else's experience. In Miguel’s world, for all intents and purposes, the border is inconsequential. This further solidifies that borders and commons affect different people differently. Within Tijuana itself, there seem to be internal borders. As we move forward to take action on our observation, understanding and reflection, it is important to keep in mind that these issues are multiplicitous and there are no one-size-fits all solutions. Leaning into the discomfort of stark juxtapositions on our trip to Tijuana elucidated this for me.

Manos:

I don’t have much to add, I think the segment above beautifully captures the inherent conflicts and points of contention within this vexing city. Looking back on our unfortunately short weekend I see a city with many different faces, many of which seem hopeful. Our experiences thus far learning about and interacting with MacArthur Park and Tijuana, have left me incredibly excited for what is to come in Mexico City. I think this program, not unlike the Luskin school, the School of Architecture and Urban Design, and the various humanities disciplines that make up our cohort, forces us to form our own opinions and to respond to difficult prompts with no right answer in the way that we think is best. That is exciting to me, and I have learned so much over the past two quarters about how to respectfully engage with communities as an outsider, how to establish some semblance of informed academic work even in the artificially short amounts of time the quarter system and our profession based degree programs afford. Hopefully we can all continue to build on these lessons to do more for the communities we interact with in the coming months and years. That’s how we can make sure that our experiences in Tijuana leave a lasting impact.