Day Two- Volunteering in a Migrant Shelter

For our second full day in El Paso, we mostly volunteered at a shelter for migrants. Before that, we went to Cafe Mayapan to learn about some local issues in El Paso. We talked a bit about NAFTA and TPP. What’s difficult with these agreements is that, in aggregate, it has made us better off but if you are one of those who get left behind, you don’t care about the aggregate. It makes one think about what role the government should (or shouldn’t) take in regards to globalization. I won’t go to into this topic but it is certainly a big topic and we should think about the consequences of trade agreements on local communities
The big thing of the day was volunteering in the migrant shelter. I want to make clear that this shelter cooperates with Border Patrol and ICE so that people who have applied for asylum won’t be out on the streets at night. My first task was to clean the showers. Not a great task but it had to be done. With some good help, it took me about an hour. I was just happy to help.
I then helped hand out wash towels for migrants to shower. Next to me was a bunch of little kids playing with toys. They were having so much fun. They were playing soccer and with toys and they were running around a lot. We then had dinner which was beef and rice from Salvation Army. Was not bad. There were moments where people shared their stories with me. Many Guatemalans left because of a serious drought that is killing the ecosystem. Many others left because of gang violence. I must say, if I were in their shoes, I would apply for asylum as well. One woman said if she had stayed in Guatemala, her daughter would be kidnapped and sold by the gangs. I would also leave if I were put in such a situation.
I did not realize how quickly eight hours would go by. The hard work hardly felt like work. There was one moment towards the end where a tiny child kicked a beach ball towards me. He wanted to kick it around with me. I figured it was time for a break anyways. This little child was so funny. Every time I kicked the ball high into the air, he would raise his arms up and have the biggest smile on his face. That was a special moment for me because in all that was happening in the shelter and in all this child may have experienced, he still had the biggest smile. on his face. It was almost as if all the noise of the outside world had been shut out because of this one beach ball. But perhaps it was more than just the beach ball. Perhaps it is because he came to America and an American played a game with him. That in spite of all the political noise, we can see the humanity in each other and play a fun little game. For me, this could have been some form of a "God moment." I truly felt special with the work that I did this day.

Day One - Fence or Wall?

The first thing we went to go see in El Paso after a lovely breakfast is the fence. Or is it a wall? Does the distinction matter?
You can see from the picture how far it spreads. This picture was taken about a step into New Mexico. The fence to me, is very strange. Before today, I’ve only seen borders as lines on map. Today, I saw some of the people on the other side of the fence. Some parents, some kids, some dogs. I wonder what it is like to grow up on one side of the fence only being able to see the other side but do no more than reach your hand through. Are we really supposed to be afraid. Is fear what built the fence?

Borders are a reality and they serve an important purpose. As I am currently writing this, I am sitting on a rooftop staring into Ciudad Juarez. I will not be setting foot into Juarez (this time) but I can see it. Two cities that are split by a line in the sand with a fence put on top. To be honest, from where I currently sit, it is hard to tell where El Paso and Juarez split.
I’ve spoken to some people today who have grown up and lived many years in El Paso. I asked if El Paso was safe before the fence. I got a very quick “yes!” She credits El Paso’s safety to the top-notch enforcement agencies primarily the El Paso Police Department. Perhaps it isn’t fences or walls that make us safe - it’s what we do for ourselves that make us safe.
The fence in New Mexico.
Looking into Mexico.

After our visit to the Border, we went to visit the University of Texas at El Paso (UTEP). We walked around a little bit and then went to their Centennial Museum. There, they had an exhibit on the ICE detention facilities that were set up in 2018. It primarily focused on the centers that had children. There was a comparison in there made between the camps set up in the USA to lock up Mexican migrants in the early 1900's, Thereisenstadt which was a concentration camp in what was then Czechoslovakia (today the camp is in the Czech Republic), and the Japanese internment camps during the Second World War.
The pictures of the camps that were set up in 2018 looked like something from the past. Seeing the exhibit recreated the emotions I felt last year when I first learned we were separating families. That was a feeling of great shame. I have high expectations of the United States and that moment, my country let me down. But, I was encouraged by the level of outcry in which many people on the left and right spoke out against the Zero Tolerance Policy. At the time, I was in Cape Town and I felt powerless. Now, being in El Paso, I feel like I have a voice in the immigration debate and hopefully will never allow such an injustice to occur again. We are better than that.
I am left today challenging the concept of border protection. There is a need to protect and enforce our borders but I believe that going overboard can be problematic. While Mexico and Canada certainly have their issues (keep your snow up there Canada!) we are not at war with them. They are our neighbors. We should cooperate with them as such. Mexico needs to get ahold of their cartel problem and Canada, well you know what you need to do.
Perhaps we as neighbors, have an incentive to help Mexico overcome its corruption problem and defeat the cartels. Easier said than done, but I think this is something we should talk more about. Let's talk about what pushes people here and deal with the source of the problem.

El Paso - Flashpoint in the Debate

I have been fortunate enough to receive a college education that took me to amazing places and taught me complex and fascinating subjects. I studied U.S.-Latin American Relations, I visited Guatemala, I studied U.S. immigration policy, interned for an NGO in Cape Town assisting refugees, and more. Immigration is a part of my life. Both my parents are immigrants and ancestors on both sides of my family have been displaced, expelled, and some even killed. This was purely because of their religion. This is why I have family in Israel, South Africa, Brazil, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, etc. I am fortunate enough that I had never experienced such turmoil and to have grown up in the United States. I think this array of experiences and family history grants me a say in the debate. So, it’s now finally time for me to visit the U.S.-Mexico border.
In a way, I want to offend both Democrats and Republicans. I want to offend them because the immigration debate has grown to be very toxic. Immigration is a complicated topic being viewed through simplistic means.
If you’ve made it this far and haven’t wandered away from my blog post, I hope you will join me on this journey. In El Paso, I will be visiting different people and organizations that operate on the border. I hope that we both learn from this journey and that we seek to better our discussion on immigration policy. I cannot promise you I won’t get political. That simply is not possible. What I will do is present to you the information I’ve received and try my best to reflect what I have witnessed. There may be parts that Republicans would agree with and parts that Democrats will agree with. I honestly can’t tell you what this will lead to. You also have no obligation to like what I say and while I am open to constructive criticism, my experiences will be reflected here and it’s possible I won’t take your criticism. I don’t want you to fully agree with me. What I want is you take what I have seen and learned and use it to challenge your thoughts and biases you may have in relation to the border. Please leave comments and stay tuned to what I will post. I hope we both grow from this experience and I hope we may some day have an immigration system that works. For now, let’s go see the border.

Poverty & Privilege - A Personal Reflection

Throughout my travels, I have witnessed poverty and the misery that it can bring. Prior to 2017, I had never witnessed poverty with my own eyes. I have seen pictures but I don't think that is the same as seeing it and standing in it. I was in Guatemala City when I first saw poverty. The smell is something that haunts me to this day. The conditions were difficult and yet, we were on the "good" side of it.
Now, a little over a year later, I see poverty in a different country. I have so far been to two townships (Masiphumelele and Langa). But, what is different with my experience here is that even outside of the townships, poverty can reach your front door. Hardly a day goes by where I don't encounter someone begging for money or looking to sell enough trinkets to scrape by with a living. I have found it to be challenging to understand. I am not of that world. I was born in a middle-class American home with loving family. I have never known poverty. I have never known a life where my needs were not met.
This is where we have to be honest with ourselves. I don't know how to fully eradicate poverty. I wish I did and I think we all do as well. I used to think it was making jobs available but after some reading and thought, it is a little more than that. Over this trip, I read Trevor Noah's book, Born a Crime, and in that book he raises an interesting point about living in poverty. There is a mindset created in it and often, poverty will drag you back in even if you know you shouldn't. There are stories of people quitting their jobs due to social pressure from back home. There are stories of friends from the township ruining prospects for others so that they don't leave. This isn't universal of course, and how prevalent it is I do not know. But I think it raises an important point. It takes a lot to get out of poverty and for many, it's more than just getting a job. It's about being able to get out of poverty and stay out of poverty.
How should those who who are not living in such conditions view those that do? It's easy to dismiss if you don't live, but it's impossible to ignore if you do live in it. I think providing jobs alone isn't enough but also advertising what life is like when you have a career. I think proper educational facilities is key as well. You might note a previous blog post I did where I went and visited a school in Masiphumelele. The conditions of the school was difficult and I imagine there are schools like it in other townships in Cape Town that are either the same quality or worse. Quality education and job aspirations could be what it takes for everyone to have equality of opportunity. If you feed a man a fish, he will eat for a day but if you teach the man how to fish and to allow him the chance to seek further ways to fish better - him and his family will never go hungry.
May what we call a township today be a thriving city tomorrow.
~Noah Goldman

Mandela Day - Celebration in Langa

It goes without saying that I have had some very interesting experiences whilst traveling. I have gone to some places that have caused some raised eyebrows. "Noah, why would you go there?" "Noah, why would you eat that?" "Noah, what are you doing?" I have to be honest, I've been hearing questions like that at least once a week. One of the things you have to do when you travel is go for the local cuisine and look for those places that fill your heart with joy. 

Today is a special day (at least in my eyes) because it is Mandela Day. If Madiba were alive today, he would be 100 years old. Perhaps also appropriate that it's my dad's birthday too. Madiba is someone whom I had admired for as long as I can remember. He was a man who brought an oppressive system down to its knees. That alone is admirable but he did so much more. I think what I have learned from Madiba is that it takes great courage to let go of the pain brought upon you, to turn the other cheek, and be willing to work with those who hurt you to make something better. 

So, in honor of his life and of what happened to be good timing, me and some of my friends went to this very special restaurant: Mzansi. Mzansi is a buffet/homestyle restaurant. It is located in the township of Langa (this is where some eyebrows are raised) and has been in operation for quite some time now. This restaurant was made for travelers to come to and experience a different part of South Africa. Here you are served traditional Xhosa foods and are meant to feel at home. There are no waiters as you serve yourself but the experience is very homey. I will explain. 

You get your food and you sit with anyone. It is home-style so its not just a table for you and your group like a normal restaurant. You meet people from different parts of the world who happen to come to this place the same time you did. There is also a wonderful band playing to make the experience even more enjoyable. Then, after you eat, the owner and head cook shares with you her story. We, as travelers, know her as Mama. 

She shared her story of growing up in Langa during apartheid and how even before the restaurant she would serve food to people in the township. Back then, whites were not permitted to go to townships due to 'forced separation' laws. A couple years ago she opened her old home, renovated it, and made it into a restaurant. Thanks to spread of word and TripAdvisor, it has become very successful. She is a humble woman who loves to see the smiles on people's faces because of her delicious food. She said that thanks to this restaurant "I don't come to the world, the world comes to me." This was rather interesting to me. It really does show how small our world really is. She talked with us about the struggles she had to endure because of racism but holds no grudges. Cliche' it may be, below our different skin colors, the blood is the same. 

I think what has been hard for me here is the dialogue around race. "Whites do this." "Blacks do that." Coloureds always do such and such." The over-simplification and generalizations infuriate me because human beings are so much more complicated than skin color. I think people spend so much time thinking about race that they are missing out on the beauty of the world around them. This is what Madiba believed. Race does not define your character. You are no better or worse because of it. There may be systems that prefer certain skin colors but in the grand scheme, it ultimately means nothing. 

Look for the beauty in your culture and in your people. It is beautiful and there are amazing stories to share of it. Then, go to a place like Mzansi, and you will find people of another culture and you will see that they too are beautiful. This is what Madiba believed. That the plurality of society in which we all live together and contribute to each others well-being is what makes our world great. So, on this Mandela Day, let us move past this primitive view on race and let us move forward so that a better world is yet to come. 

"There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living." 

~Noah Goldman

Robben Island

I think Robben Island is about four miles from mainland Cape Town. The way you go there today is by boat through the Robben Island Museum. Distance-wise, it is not that far from the mainland but for some reason, it felt like the longest boat ride of my life. There is something about this place of terror and oppression that makes it different from the others. Robben Island was a place in which the apartheid government could hold those it deemed "enemies of the state" away from South African society with four miles of water to keep them separated. A place where many black people suffered tremendously. Where some, would never return from.

When you go to Robben Island through the museum, you get a very special perspective added to your trip. Your tour guide will be someone who was a former prisoner when it was operational. This is a very unique and powerful perspective. Our guide was a man who went to a protest in his high school years and because of that, he was arrested and sent to Robben Island for five years.

This is the entrance to Robben Island prison. As you walk through the prison halls, you see the harsh conditions that prisoners were put through. When you hear and read testimony, you learn how experiences on the island were made to be even worse than designed. It is a place where for many, the punishment was far bigger than the crime. Going through the island, one can understand why many hold resentment towards South Africa. It is a suffering beyond what a person can imagine unless they have experienced it. 

What was interesting was that our tour guide knew Nelson Mandela. He casually pointed out where his 'buddy' Nelson sat in prison. I wonder what it's like to know one of the 20th century's greatest statesmen at what may be the lowest point in their lives. There is something about the cold and the gray walls of the prison. How one could spend more than a day there, I will never know. Even with the desire to escape, you simply could not. On the off-chance you break out of prison, you then would have to swim to mainland Cape Town where if you managed to make it there, there may be some people expecting you. But, the coasts are difficult, the waves are strong, and the water is always cold. When asked if anyone escaped during the apartheid era, the guide told me "the thought never escaped our minds." In a disturbing way, Robben Island was the perfect prison. 

Robben Island leaves a disturbing reminder as to what happens when we let radicals take over our politics and corrupt our systems so that opposition to them is a damning offense. This isn't a lesson just for South Africa; it's a lesson for the world.

It makes a great physical reminder because from Cape Town, if you look out to sea, there is a good chance you will see the island. As I leave the island, I reflect on the pain that took place on the grounds that I walked on. Who was locked up there? What did they do to be put there? Who never got to leave the island? Can we stop something like this from ever happening again? 

My Visit to Pinelands - Cape Town Jewish Cemetery

I have come a long way from home. From the comfort of Charlotte to the old cemeteries of Poland to the beautiful sights of Prague and Zurich to now being in South Africa. This journey to 4 different countries has involved me tracing some form of where I come from and what my history is. It is weird to think had history taken a different turn, I would likely be Polish or Lithuanian today instead of being an American. Had history taken a different route, no one in my family would have ever moved to South Africa. I would be someone totally different.
But that's not the reality I live in. The Holocaust happened and those who survived did not stay in Poland or Lithuania, they came to South Africa. There are a few different stories with how my Polish and Lithuanian ancestors came to South Africa but the underlying theme was to flee a destructive persecution. Since  the 1920's, people from my family have lived in South Africa and have contributed to the country since. They were established businesses, contributed to a strong Jewish community, and life was good but not without their challenges. Over time, people left South Africa for varying reasons and to varying places but many stay behind and when the opportunity arises, we visit South Africa.
One of the ways in which you establish a Jewish community is that you have a Jewish cemetery. This is hallmark for Jewish communities all across the world. On this day, I went to go see the Cape Town Jewish Cemetery at Pinelands.
It is a beautiful cemetery that is well-taken care of and a place where many who added to Cape Town are laid to rest. Some of the people buried there are close family. This blog post will acknowledge them and what they mean to me. One of the women buried there is my grandmother. I sadly never had the privilege to meet her in person. She passed away on the 21st of August, 1974. By blood, she is my grandmother and even thought I never got to see her in person, I feel a strong love for her through the stories that keep her alive. On this day and after all these years, I finally got to meet her.

Afterwards, my grandfather remarried and more people were added to the family. It makes for an interesting dynamic. I have uncles, aunts, and cousins with whom I share no genetic bond to. We are related through the marriage of one couple. For me at least, it has so far worked out just fine. I love all my relatives, whether related by blood or not, and we get along pretty well. One of my aunts, Ruth Golembo Mesarcik, was another woman I did not have the privilege of meeting in person. Unfortunately, she passed away on the 14th of July, 2016. I had only heard wonderful things about her. She was an amazing wife and mother and successful in her field of work. I wish I could have at least spoken to her. 

An amazing person I never got to meet was the man we called 'Uncle Phil'. He was my dad's uncle. His father's brother to be exact. He passed away on the 28th of June, 2016. I have heard wonderful stories through my dad and my grandfather of the impact he had on their lives. How he was able to touch the lives of so many people and live to a ripe old age. His life will live on through those stories that I wish to share and pass on as well. 

I would lastly like to acknowledge one more person and this is difficult. My dad's cousin had a son named Justin Goldman. He was 'Uncle Phil's' grandson. He passed away on the 16th of May, 2016. He was too young for his time and taken from us way too soon. Despite the obstacles he faced in life, he sought and worked for success. His loss leaves an unfilled space that can never be refilled. 

I know that for any of my family members who have read this, it may not have been easy and I apologize if I brought any tears back to you. I feel that it is important to share these stories and these people with the world. I have to be honest, these losses have shown me how fragile life really is. I don't hold many regrets but I do have one. That I never called. Three of my relatives that I shared about passed away in 2016. It was a rough year for the family. It hit me that I will never hear their voices for a first time because we never talked. Even though we are a distance apart, I could have called. I should have but I didn't. The thought did not occur to me until it was far too late. I am sorry for not calling you when I should have made the effort to do so. 

I know that I have shared a lot of personal thoughts, feelings, and stories on this blog. I find it easier to type it than to speak it. Some may think I may be getting to personal but I see it as being authentic, real, and human. Through this, there will forever be a record of these people who have left an impact on this world. Also, I hope that those who read these posts may learn something and perhaps see something differently in their own lives. That is why I share these personal thoughts. May we all hold our loved one's close whether they are on this earth or not and may we love them forever. 

May the memories of those we have lost forever be a blessing. 

BDE'

~Noah Goldman