Trudging Respect

What slowed me down while reading a report on the asylum-seekers was a story that cited a Honduran man who was traveling with two Chinese men. Now there is a long way from home, and then there is a long way from home.

Perhaps the Mind-in-Chief would want to vet the caravans for Chinese. Quite the propaganda coup. But, of course, they may Chinese. Because they are from China.

The trek from Tegucigalpa to Tijuana is just about 2898 miles as the road goes. Curiously, the trip is 3 miles closer by cutting through the U.S. on the way. Of course, that ain’t happening. Either way, it’s a damn long walk.

Like me taking off from my doorstep and heading to Vancouver. Except that trip would be a little shorter. Less a caravan, more a pedi-van I. Nor can I really process setting off on such a journey. I can claim, in fact, walking several miles in a blizzard, both ways. Canoeing and portaging dozens of miles. Trekking 53 miles over 9 days above 11,000’. But trudging heroically and perhaps hopelessly for weeks on end? Nope, can’t fathom the will to do so.

Part of the story turns on violence in Honduras. How parents want their children raised in a safer environment. I get that—plenty of family members and friends to demonstrate by example such commitment. The standard murder rate statistics cite murders per 100,000 population. The latest I could find was 43 per for Honduras.

In the US, that rate nestles between New Orleans at 42 and Detroit with 44. Just FYI, Baltimore last reported 55, and St. Louis 59. Imagine parents in Baltimore also leaving for Vancouver. To escape the carnage. As if those moms and dads could be blamed. Does beg a question or two at least. Like, WWVD?

Oh, and bloody Chicago? That would be 18 per 100,000. Surprised? Yep, our Propagandist-in-Chief has a quite a way with perceptions. And, no, I am not making light of any murder at any rate for any individual or family or community. I just haven’t caved to the post-curious era yet.  

The self-exiled, really to no surprise, are being reviled along the way. In Tijuana the manmade fires of hatred and bigotry are well stoked. I try to imagine being loathed and harassed for weeks on end while plodding forward toward a distant hope, an idea—an ideal. And along the way, the unrelenting venom, the invectives, the violence.

Those of us who have never, will never, tread in such shoes—all I can say is we ought to get down on our knees, daily. Hourly.