They could have been anybody — a talented musician, a farm worker, an unemployed teacher, a desperate parent, a son or daughter looking to feed their mother, brothers and sisters. Whoever they are, their identities are now shrouded beneath the saline terrain that surrounds the town of Holtville, just west of Arizona and less than an hour from the Mexican border.
Most of the John and Jane Does buried here were found dead, their bodies strewn across the desert hills of Imperial Valley, or along the All American Canal that feeds a sprawling agricultural expanse extending from El Centro, California, to Mexicali, Mexico. No one knows who they are and few seem to really care.
November 2 marks the Mexican holiday known as Dia De Los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, when families traditionally gather to honor those who have gone before. This year a handful of immigrant rights activists and community members gathered at Holtville’s Terrace Park Cemetery, near the site of dozens of unmarked graves, to celebrate, and to mourn.
Partially obscured by a six-foot wall are rows and rows – 49 to be exact – of crosses with simple, mud-colored bricks delineating the final resting place for these would-be migrants.
“None of the people buried here expected to end up like this,” says Enrique Morones, head of the non-profit organization Border Angels.
Founded in 1986, the organization provides humanitarian assistance to migrants living in the canyons of North San Diego County. For several years it has also helped recruit volunteers as part of a campaign to leave bottles of water in areas identified as crossing points for undocumented immigrants.
“Most undocumented migrants are not aware of the perils of the desert. They are also easy prey for unscrupulous smugglers that rob them and then leave them lost on their own in a place where north and south are indistinguishable,” adds Morones, as he leaves a few gallons of water off at a strategic point marked by a blanket hanging from a small shrubby tree, known as a huizache.
“No one can survive more than two hours under 115 degree heat during the summer,” explains Border Patrol Officer Adrian Corona. “Winter is equally dangerous,” he says, adding that the mountainous terrain is especially treacherous at night and brutally hot in the day. Most don’t make the trip, he says.
Under high heat and no water, the body enters into a state of shock, with the vital organs gradually shutting down. People in this state will experience hallucinations – also described as the “oasis effect” – before collapsing in a delirium.
The coyotes, meanwhile, who are essentially paid guides for migrants looking to head north, will often warn fellow travelers not to stop for those showing signs of dehydration. Since most border trips are made at night, it’s common practice for coyotes to abandon stragglers.