Juan Carlos wakes up every morning in a “foreign” country.
He rolls out of bed at 4:30 a.m. in the Lomas Virreyes neighborhood of Tijuana, and gazes towards el norte. His Southwestern College class begins promptly at 8:30. He has an international border to cross.
Thousands of SC students make the arduous crossing several days a week, rising before los gallos amd returning under the beaming moon and twinkling stars. College officials estimate that 30-40 percent of SC’s students live in Tijuana, Puerto Nuevo or Rosarito. Some come as far away as Ensenada. Most are Mexicans or Mexican-Americans who live south of la frontera, but hundreds —probably thousands— are white, African-American or Asian-Americans who live in Tijuana for its low rents, cheap gasoline and overall affordability.
Wait times at the world’s busiest international border are completely unpredictable and typically arduous. Delays can be caused by weather, law enforcement activity, holidays, border patrol shift changes, and even visits by the U.S. President or cabinet officials. Political jousting between the U.S. and Mexico spurs retaliatory shutdowns, slowdowns and showdowns. Even la Virgen de Guadalupe, Mexico’s patron saint, air brushed on vehicles and tattooed on muchos brazos, has a hard time guaranteeing an easy cross.
A good commute for Juan Carlos is two hours, a typical is three and a bad is four. An awful delay is five hours and a catastrophic delay is six.
Juan Carlos gets about four hours sleep a night, he said, rubbing his eyes. His mamá wakes up an hour earlier at 3:30 a.m., to make him a portable breakfast shake and prepare him a lunch. This is often all he eats all day, he said.
Lack of sleep and hunger take their toll, he said. El espíritu está dispuesto, pero la carne es débil.
“There are some days I’m in class and I cannot pay attention, I’m falling asleep. I’m thinking ‘After this I’m going to this place to buy something to eat,’” he said. “It’s distracting and as whole it doesn’t allow me to continue with my usual activites because I don’t have the same energy level than a regular person does.”
Ariana holds a precious SENTRI card from the U.S. Customs and Border Patrol given to “pre-approved, low-risk travelers” to cross faster. Wait time at the Port of Entry is greatly reduced, but the commute is still typically an hour—much longer if she is required to endure an entirely random secondary inspection.
Ariana said she buys burritos from street vendors at the border for breakfast and lunch. Like Juan Carlos, sometimes that is all she eats until she crosses back to Mexico later that night and has dinner at la casa.
“There are days I do not have a meal,” she said. “I do not have a meal until night, at dinner, because at school food is too expensive.”
Estephania said she only has shakes for breakfast. Sometimes she finds short snatches of time for a snack between her consecutive classes beginning at 8:30 a.m. Eating hours before dawn means her body wants lunch while many of her classmates are at home having a leisurely breakfast.
Despite their transportation and transborder trials, all three students agree that the sleep deprivation, hunger and grueling commutes in smoggy lines of testy border crossers is all worth it for an American education.
“Nobody (in Mexico) has these opportunities,” Estephania said. “(We) take advantage of them.”
At the swarming San Ysidro Port of Entry, more than 70,000 cars and 20,000 pedestrians cross the border every day, according to Border Patrol data. As many as 10 million people cross la linea at either San Ysidro or Otay Mesa annually. It is humanity’s busiest border in recorded history, but a routine trip to school for many Jaguars.
Juan Carlos said he only sees his brother when they cross and his mom when she drives them to and from the border. Ariana and Estephania concurred— the commute is tough on relationships and family. They spend most of their waking hours in the sunlight of Chula Vista.
Shouldering heavy backpacks is another struggle. All three students carry everything they might need throughout the day. Estephania carries her books and extra supplies in case of a border closure.
Students who live in Mexico are never entirely sure if they will be able to return home that day.
Transborder students do not always have a plan B in case of a border closure. Some might be able to stay with a friend or a family member, but others go homeless, sleeping in their cars as they do not have anywhere else to go. After the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks on the East Coast, the border was closed tight for 10 days. Students living in Mexico formed a camp in the parking lot of a Chula Vista Walmart. Many SC professors brought them food, water, blankets and bedding. Others allowed students to stay at their homes.
Political turmoil caused by unexpected outbursts by U.S. President Donald Trump also cause border closures and lengthy delays. These events hang over students like a veritable Sword of Damocles, causing stress and anxiety.
A 2016 report by UCSD researchers found that students who study in the U.S. and live in Mexico are at greater risk for depression and health maladies. Some suffer from refugee-level stress and anxiety.
“I have back problems because of stress,” said Ariana. “This is something new that had never happened to me when I was studying in high and middle school in Mexico.”
Anxiety attacks plague Ariana, she said, caused by the stress of crossing the border. Even though she wakes up three hours before her class starts, she never knows for sure if she will make it on time. Constant fear of a border shutdown and worry about mistreatment by Border Patrol agents contribute to her high stress levels, she said.
No Border Patrol agent, endless snaking line at Customs or barrier that may appear like the Gates of Hell can keep Juan Carlos, Ariana or Estephania from attending Southwestern College. An American college degree is too valuable, they all said in their own way in two languages. Juan Carlos is blunt.
“If anybody has a degree from a United States college, it doesn’t matter what school it is from, it’s going to be way better than anything you can get (in Mexico),” he said. “From an educational point of view, it is really important that I do this.”
La Frontera is like Mictlan, the Aztec underworld, at dawn and dusk for Southwestern College students who dare to challenge fate in the darkness twice a day. Like the Aztec spirits who braved the dangers during the days of creation, 21st century spirits accept the risks and hopes of someday reveling in the light.
