Crossing the Border: A Glimpse into the Other Side. What Divides Us Isn't What You Think.
If you have enough money to feed and house yourself, you are on the sidewalk side. If you don’t have a place with a kitchen and a toilet, or medical insurance, or anyone to let you sleep on their couch, you’re over there, on the other side.
The border is transparent, a room divider between countries. An ineffective wall. Neither side likes the transparency. The sidewalk side doesn’t like what it sees. The property values go down, the condo doesn’t sell fast enough. The other side doesn’t like what it sees; dogs with enough food, landscaping lush with clean water, unrestricted access to electrical outlets and light.
The people on the other side, they cross the border to gather water from unlocked spigots if they can find them, and food from the gloved hand of the church volunteer at the park. The sidewalk people don’t cross the border, disgusted by the desperation and the mess, the inhumanity and shame, the fear. They park cars along the border, take valuables with them, and avert eyes.
I crossed the border from the sidewalk side to the other side, just for a few minutes, and saw the same things I have in my own place, but lacking organization, structure, and relationships. Food and drink containers, but they are all empty, nothing has lids, no reason to save for the future.
What I saw:
A beige couch cushion, L-shaped.
A steel-gray blanket at the foot of the cushion, bunched up like it was too hot to sleep.
A cell phone charger cord and an empty soup can nearby.
Further away there were styrofoam cubes, paper and plastic bags, empty plastic water bottles in a few loosely defined piles.
A vacuum, a plastic hanger, a metal bed frame.
A can of Jiffy peanut butter without a lid, most of the peanut butter gone.
Many food to-go containers, a red solo cup, a laundry basket.
A black bra, a faux-flower wreath in bright pink.
A plush football, a sandal, a McDonalds bag.
A short length of copper pipe.
An empty plastic coke bottle, a Pringles can, a Noosa yogurt container.
A workbook open to a page for filling in examples of personification, onomatopoeia and oxymoron, next to Sol Janeira packaging in its trademark orange, and a lot of dirty, empty ziplock bags.
A blister pack of yellow pills, a purple bag that contains rubber gloves, some nose spray and an empty bag of Hawaiian potato chips.
Shoelaces, a lid to a pot.
A photo of three men standing and two women sitting.
A black long-sleeve shirt, an empty Nutella container, an Amazon envelope, a Safeway circular, a Don Julio 1942 box, a No 2 pencil, and Reach dental floss.
A black leg brace, a Free People ad, a coloring book page with a unicorn uncolored, a paintbrush, more empty hangers.
A blue and gold pompom next to a nondiscrimination notice from the Santa Clara Family health plan.
A printed Letter of Action to the Borrower advising that their request for a loan in the amount of Rs 53,62,326.00 for engineering education has been approved. The borrower lives in Thane, Maharashtra and the interest rate is 8.9%.
A CVS flu vaccine record with the same name as the borrower.
Another paper with the borrower’s email, phone number, local address, and birthdate.
A paper with a negative PCR Covid test in the borrower’s name.
Visa application information with the ICE website noted.
The borrower is (or was) a neighbor from the sidewalk side of the fence. In fact, he lives (or lived) in a building across the street from me. Has he crossed the border from the sidewalk side to the other side, or have only his papers crossed? A quick online search shows that he has graduated from a local university, and is looking for an engineering job. Maybe he’s fallen on hard times, or maybe someone went through his garbage. Both are possible, individually or at the same time. This young man is the same age as my middle son, who also has college loan documents, flu vaccine records and negative PCR test results. He has also lived close to the border.
Two days after my visit to the other side, people in uniforms, in vehicles, in white hazmat suits, gloves and boots have cleared out the detritus. Arrested a trespasser, in the wrong place at the wrong time for probably all his life. They made the area a blank slate, easier to look at than the chaos that was there. The blank slate for the sidewalk side, so we don’t have to see the evidence.
Three days after my visit someone took a shit on my doorstep. A reminder that borders of chain link fence or walls maybe don’t work like we think they do. We are not so separate from the other side, humans just like us with some basic needs that are not being met.
