BY MARSHALL MURPHY AND SERINA DUARTE SUN STAFF ON 12/06/2013CAMPUS
Officially at least, the lines of the Southwestern Community College District are pretty clear. Division Street in National City to the north, Coronado to the west, Sweetwater Dam to the east and the Mexican border to the south.
Officially, at least.
Unofficially, college leaders have acknowledged for years that anywhere from 20-40 percent of SWC’s students live in Mexico. Some are Mexicans from excellent Tijuana high schools seeking higher education at the best college in la frontera. A surprisingly high number are Americans who reside in Baja California for the considerably lower cost of living.
Getting to school, though, has its own cost. Depending on the ever-changing dynamics of the border itself, traveling from Tijuana or Rosarito Beach can typically take anywhere from 2-4 hours. Sometimes it takes six hours. When there are law-enforcement incidents or political turmoil the border can be sealed completely. (Professors still talk about how empty the campus was for weeks after 9/11.)
A pair of SWC Sun staffers went home one evening with students who live in Mexico, then documented their typical journey to Southwestern the next morning. Following is a day in the life of two intrepid students who commute across a heavily-guarded international border twice a day, five days a week.
Students who live in Mexico endure a grueling daily commute across la frontera
PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE—Getting to the border is the easy part. Crossing la linea is where everything bogs down.
Photo by Marshall Murphy
By Marshall Murphy
6 a.m.: Class starts in four hours. It is a hazy Friday morning and the only things between class and a student is a fortified line between two countries and a crushing line of people cued up to get into the United States. We begin our descent down a large hill from a gated community in Tijuana, an eclectic mix of the city’s most modern architecture and imagination-free cinder block homes. Streets are full of teeth-rattling cracks, bumps and potholes. As we jostle down the road, weathered posters for bullfights and Norteño bands hang askew, their color beaten away by the elements.
6:40 a.m.: We are traveling by car to the border. When we get to the bottom of the hill, we stop at an OXXO convenience store, the 7-Eleven of Tijuana. Bottled guava juice is the most healthy choice. Others are getting ready for their day with a coffee and pan dulce. One man has an issue of “La Zeta,” Tijuana’s newspaper in hand. San Diego’s U-T is also on news racks.
6:48 a.m.: Tijuana’s morning rush hour smells of sulfurized PEMEX gasoline fumes. “Hectic” is an insufficient word. Haphazard driving and maneuvers make the roads an automotive pinball machine of chaos. We drive past newspaper salesmen and vendors getting their carts ready for the day. Foot long, deep fried, sugar- encrusted churros are the roadside donuts of the Tijuana commute.
6:55 a.m.: We park the car in a day lot a few minutes walk to the port of entry. Most of the car lots had filled to capacity by 7 a.m. Operators of many of the lots said they had been filled since 5 a.m. We start walking towards la linea.
The highway exit, which becomes a two-lane road, was at a stand still. Food vendors and merchants meander through clouds of exhaust selling snacks, colorful knick-knacks and this week’s popular folk art knock-offs. “Real” Rolex watches and designer bags are also available. Two lanes multiply into gates dividing the Ready-Lane/Sentri cardholders from the general population traveling like a human glacier toward el norte.
Photo by Marshall Murphy
The Ready Lane and Sentri passes are known as Radio Frequency Identification. They are cards issued by the U.S. Government allowing for faster transit into America. Sentri allows the fastest cross times because of a pre-screening and application process. The rest of the general population, with paper passport or government issued ID, can expect a four-hour wait in the INS building alone.
7:00 a.m.: The line was just up to the first bridge to start heading towards downtown Tijuana. It was a welcomed sight compared to the usual line of bodies snaking up and then back down the street. We hopped in line. Fragrant churros sweetened the morning air as the sun began to peak through the clouds. We waited. Then we waited some more.
7:35 a.m. In the distance a screechy violin massacred a melody. A musical panhandler with a limp and crutch wore the hood of his sweater under his cowboy hat to fend off the chill. At the end of the violin is a cup of change he would shake to prompt his shifting audience. A few folks tossed in a coin or two, but most had heard his act before.
8:15 a.m.: Crossing the actual official border line, which divides the U.S. and Mexico is merely symbolic. Even though they are now on American soil, travelers must enter a gate where there is another line to wait in. A no-nonsense Customs officer looks at travelers’ identification, asks where they are headed and why.
9:25 a.m.: Walking out of Customs into the U.S. sunlight felt like finishing a marathon. Only we were not finished. As the crow flies SWC is about six miles from the Mexican border, but it’s about 10 miles from the San Ysidro port of entry to Jaguar Walk at SWC. Google says it’s a 28-minute drive, but students crossing the border rarely drive cars. It is public transportation from here to the college.
There is a long line at the San Diego Trolley ticket kiosk in San Ysidro. A day pass costs $5, plus $2 more if you do not have a Compass Pass. The San Diego Metropolitan Transit System’s trolley cycles through every 15 minutes to the San Ysidro stop. Four stops from the border we get off at the “H” Street station. Luckily, the 709 bus to Southwestern College had not departed and we jump on.
10:10 a.m.: It took 45 minutes for the trolley and bus to get our clump of students to SWC’s main Chula Vista campus.
10:25 a.m.: Even though we left the Tijuana house at 6:15 a.m., we are 25 minutes to class. Our professor gives us the evil eye as we walk in, probably thinking we are slackers who slept late. If he only knew.
THE WAITING IS THE HARDEST PART —Thousands of cars line up into the pre-dawn hours waiting to cross the border into the United states. Some will wait for as many as four hours to cross.
Photo by Serina Duarte
By Serina Duarte
3:35 a.m.: Sofia Montoya, 21, has lived in Tijuana her entire life. She wakes to her mother’s voice saying, “It’s time to get up.” Montoya energizes her morning by listening to “Royals” by Lorde on repeat as she looks through her closet to start her day.
4:30 a.m.: Montoya walks a block from her house in Playas de Tijuana in the dark lonely hours of the morning serenaded by barking dogs as she reaches a corner and waits for an overfilled taxi to downtown Tijuana.
5:00 a.m.: She walks two more blocks and patiently waits for the next bus. Montoya struggles against sleep while the bus rocks back and forth, then is jarred awake when the smoky vehicle hits some potholes near the border crossing. She walks off the bus and continues on foot over the pedestrian bridge. Toddlers wrapped in blankets hold their parents’ hands as elderly women amble along. Crowds of bleary-eyed travelers coalesce near la linea.
5:30 a.m.: Montoya makes it to the border. Everyone is quiet and on their best behavior. Customs officers look her up and down, pause a moment, then wave her through. It was a surprisingly light day at la linea, only 45 minutes.
6:25 a.m.: She catches the San Diego trolley in San Ysidro, the southern end of the line. It is crowded with students, housekeepers, laborers and people looking for work. Montoya gets off at “H” Street and is lucky to get right on the 709 bus to Southwestern College. Sometime she waits an hour for a seat on the 709.
Photo by Serina Duarte
7:15 a.m.: Arrived at SWC. This time is considered to be a very good day, free of major incidents and delays. On really bad days when it takes 5.5 hours she arrives at the college at 10 a.m.
7:30 a.m.: Coffee at Jason’s.
8 a.m.: On time for class.
It is a long day at Southwestern, especially with co-curricular activities, including singing in one of the college’s elite choirs. There is often another visit to Jason’s at the end of the day. Getting home takes between 2-3.5 hours. Montoya is hoping it is just two.