Tucson, AZ: Humane Borders Water Run: July

Humane Borders water station. Near Tucson, Arizona. July 2019.

Being part of a water run for Humane Borders offers four-fold benefits:

1. Take an action that might save lives; 
2. Give eyewitness testimony to friends and family about the effects of government decisions on the lives of individual women, men, and children;
3. Hear fresh perspectives on borderland issues from fellow water-truck passengers; and
4. Revel in the sensory gifts of the Sonoran Desert, which indiscriminately transfixes and kills. 

On this day's run, we stopped at several water stations. In two cases, we swapped out two barrels for fresh ones, as the water pH was just at or a little above the threshold that Humane Borders accepts for safety.

This necessitates draining the barrels into the desert floor, and at one station, this really pissed off an ant town, as the water evidently flooded the community byways, resulting in irked ants storming up and out of a hole several yards away from the barrel.

Angry ants near Humane Borders water station. Near Tucson, Arizona. July 2019.

We saw a magnificent Harris hawk nest cradled in the arms of a stalwart saguaro. The HB driver of the day noted that this nest had been in use for at least two years. He even had photos of youngn's in the nest from a year ago.

Harris hawk nest. Near Tucson, Arizona. July 2019.

Whilst on a wilderpee behind some brush, I saw a really big bug. Eek. A palo verde beetle. Also called the "demon bug."

Palo verde beetle near Tucson, Arizona. July 2019.

It was dead. Are they edible? Quick research gave me nothing on this.


I also saw seedy poop.

Poop with many seeds, near Tucson, Arizona. July 2019.

As we bounced along a gravel-dirt road between stations, suddenly the driver stopped. He thought he might have run over a long snake, to his dismay, and he wanted to check. We all bounded out of the truck to look.

Long snake near Tucson, Arizona. July 2019.

The driver believed it was a rattlesnake. It was long. No apparent injuries, though it looked rather stunned to me. I say that because it didn't move other than to venture its tongue out of its mouth. I would have liked to have my key fob next to the snake so you could get an idea of the snake's length, but none of us volunteered to walk it over there. Look how elegantly camouflaged it is.

We saw two skeletal remains of animals. On one, a dragonfly perched alongside a spur. 

Skeleton and dragonfly near Tucson, Arizona. July 2019.

Generally, four people go on the water runs. One of our companions on this trip was a university student from LA who'd come to Tucson for a week for the express purpose of volunteering. I have met a goodly number of people in Tucson who have done this. They are of diverse ages, genders, professions, and home bases.

A slide show of this and other Humane Border runs below:

Arizona: Sasabe: Humane Borders: July

View of sacred mountain, Baboquivari, through the Wall. Sasabe US and MX. July 2019.

Being part of a water run for Humane Borders offers four-fold benefits:

1. Take an action that might save lives; 
2. Give eyewitness testimony to friends and family about the effects of government decisions on the lives of individual women, men, and children;
3. Hear fresh perspectives on borderland issues from fellow water-truck passengers; and
4. Revel in the sensory gifts of the Sonoran Desert, which indiscriminately transfixes and kills.

Water being transferred in Sasabe for Grupo Beta, Sasabe, Sonora, Mexico. July 2019.

On this day's run, the beginning of July, we went to Sasabe in the US, and Sasabe in Mexico. Whether north or south of the border, Sasabe is a village.

The Wall between the Sasabes, Arizona and Sonora. July 2019.

A handsome US Customs compound sits on the US side of the border.


The Sasabe run has only one stop: Just over the border in Sasabe, Sonora, Mexico. Humane Borders delivers a tank of water to a receiving tank in the yard behind the Mexican Customs facility. Grupo Beta uses the water to give humanitarian aid to trekking migrants on the Mexican side of the Sonoran Desert.

It takes a little over half an hour to transfer the water from one tank to the other. During this operation, there's not much to do other than observe the community affairs of bi-national ants and to gaze thoughtfully at the United States from Mexico through the metal bars and gulag-style razor wire of the Wall.

The Wall between the Sasabes, Arizona and Sonora. July 2019.

On the way back to Tucson from Sasabe, we stopped on a desolate stretch of the road to visit the Crosses. The still, red Crosses speak in their inanimate silence of the individual life forces who let go their last breaths in these spots. Each Cross represents one woman, man, or child who left behind family, friends, home, school, the favorite corner store, the house of worship, the garden with the mango tree.

Alvaro Enciso Crosses to mark people who died crossing the desert. Look how close to the road they were when they died. July 2019.

I learned from my fellow water-truckers that artist Alvaro Enciso makes these Crosses, and most Tuesdays, under the auspices of the Samaritans, he heads up a group to plant the Crosses in the location, as marked with GPS, where the remains were claimed by the Border Patrol, ICE, or the Pima County Sheriff's or Medical Examiner's Office. If a deceased person's family is ...... lucky? ..... there is identifying information on the remains that allow Pima County to notify the family of their loved one's death.

Alvaro Enciso Cross to mark people who died crossing the Sonoran Desert, Arizona. The sweet purse that belonged to a girl or woman. July 2019.

Through his Crosses, Mr. Enciso calls attention to the human dignity of each person who died. That each soul breathed, ate, loved, feared, and had the same rights and desires that our Declaration of Independence says are inalienable - that which cannot be taken from us - to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.


Not long before our visit, someone had vandalized some Crosses.

Alvaro Enciso Crosses, one vandalized, to mark people who died crossing the Sonoran Desert, Arizona. July 2019.

A cumulative slide show of desert water runs via Humane Borders and Samaritans below: