It Could Happen Here - What Can You Do? Mutual Aid Along the Migrant Journey

Episode Date: November 1, 2024

James' final episode looks at the people helping migrants once they leave the Darién Gap, and how you can help. Donation links for groups featured in this series:  Border Kindness: https://borderkindness.org/donate/Al Otro Lado: https://alotrolado.networkforgood.com/projects/63833-al-otro-lado-fundFe Y Alegria: https://www.feyalegria.org/en/home-fya-international/ Sources: https://www.oig.dhs.gov/sites/default/files/assets/2023-11/OIG-24-07-Nov23.pdf https://www.notiparole.com https://www.instagram.com/p/DAaDkSwh1Jk/?igsh=bmgyanBteW10czd5 https://www.nytimes.com/1964/09/20/archives/a-new-canaldug-by-atom-bombs-nuclear-energy-is-the-key-to-replacing.html https://www.themanual.com/outdoors/darien-gap-feature/ https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2024/apr/18/panama-darien-gap-jose-raul-mulino https://americasquarterly.org/article/the-darien-gaps-fearsome-reputation-has-been-centuries-in-the-making/ https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2022/10/27/the-darien-gap-a-deadly-extension-of-the-us-border https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/supporting_resources/jmhs.pdf https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2022/06/20/snakes-swamps-whisky-british-explorers-went-ultimate-boys-adventure/ https://www.strausscenter.org/publications/asylum-processing-at-the-u-s-mexico-border-august-2024/ https://www.gob.mx/inm/prensa/el-gobierno-mexicano-y-el-inm-articulan-corredor-emergente-de-movilidad-segura-para-el-traslado-de-personas-extranjeras-con-cita-cbp-one https://english.elpais.com/international/2024-03-23/kidnapping-and-escape-of-95-ecuadorian-migrants-in-chiapas-if-you-continue-informing-we-will-return-them-in-bags.html https://humanrightsfirst.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Asylum-Policies-Harm-Black-Asylum-Seekers-FACTSHEET-formatted.pdf https://respondcrisistranslation.org/en/newsb/cbp-ones-obscene-language-errors-create-more-barriers-for-asylum-seekers https://www.msf.org/lack-action-sees-sharp-rise-sexual-violence-people-transiting-darien-gap-panamaSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

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That's iHeart.com slash podcast awards. On Thanksgiving Day, 1999, five-year-old Cuban boy, Elian Gonzalez, was found off the coast of Florida. And the question was, should the boy go back to his father in Cuba? Mr. Gonzalez wanted to go home, and he wanted to take his son with him. Or stay with his relatives in Miami? Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom. Listen to Chess Peace, the Elian Gonzalez story, on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. to audiobooks while running errands or at the end of a busy day. From thought-provoking novels to powerful poetry, we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Listen to Black Lit on the

Black Effect Podcast Network, iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. AT&T, connecting changes everything. It's me, James, and before we listen to this episode today, I just did want to make you aware that I conducted these interviews in French and Spanish, mostly Spanish, and then transcribed and translated them. So what you're hearing is a translated interview that's been edited for brevity and content. I hope you enjoy the episode. Just you finding yourself there and seeing how the environment looks like, you feel like you should give up. I cried. It takes the grace of God for you to actually stand by and say, no, I'll keep on struggling. There are a lot of people who gave up.

There are a lot of people who sat and cried. We met people who were crying. We met people who were crying. They didn't know how they could continue. It's not an easy situation. It's not really an easy situation. It's just the grace of God for us surviving. Because I can say it's by my strength least it's just the grace of God for us surviving

because I can say it's by my strength it's actually the grace of God because what we actually went through we met people who were even collapsed we had to help them you meet your brother, you give a lifting hand it's not really an easy thing it's not something that if we are fine tomorrow

we can advise any of our family members to go through because it's so deadly. It's risky. If your family member is in there and is not out, it takes the grace of God for you to even lie on your bed and close all your eyes. I, for once, I survived by the grace of God

because I almost drowned. In fact, I was drowning. By the grace of God, I was rescued. Yeah, who rescued you? Yeah, some guys. Some guys, they rescued me. I was already drowning. By the grace of God, I was rescued. Who rescued you? Yes, some guys. Some guys rescued me. I was already drowned. I was gone. I was gone. I was drinking water. All throughout their journey north, migrants have little choice but to rely on one another and the solidarity of strangers. I heard dozens of stories like the one you've just heard

in my time in the Darién. Total strangers who saved each other's lives and risked their own in the process. Rivers that could only be crossed if people from three different continents joined arms to form a human chain that children and smaller people could hold onto to avoid being swept downstream. Not everyone can help. Just surviving the Darien takes all of what many people have. But for the people who are in a position to, even in desperate times, there's mutual support among the migrants. There are very few people who are able to help you.

There are very few people. Only people who are kind can actually help. There are people who pass you by. And there are people who, if you have lost your strength, it's not easy for another person to actually help. But we can really appreciate those who help. Because having your strength is another. You must help yourself before you can help another person.

So if you can't really have the strength, it will be difficult for you to help another. So we don't really condemn them bread. At least we are pleading on our brothers who are still behind that. If they meet people, if they have the ability to help, they should do so because it's not really an easy something. There are people who gave up. There are people who gave up there. Sometimes reporting on these places can paint them as bleak

and welcoming or just miserable. And certainly very sad things happen in the jungle and in the camps, inhuman things. But just like war or a natural disaster, sometimes the horrible circumstances of the migration trail bring out the best in people. As I've said before in this series, I'm comfortable in the refugee camps, at least in part because people there are looking out for one another. Kids don't stop playing the moment they become refugees, nor do adults stop laughing. In fact, these things become even more important.

They're how we keep our humanity in a system that's inherently dehumanizing. And people don't stop organizing or caring about one another either. It's not just the migrants, of course. One of the families who've been stuck in Bajo Chiquito for almost a month was given some money by a local centerfront member to take a bus. In Mexico, those who don't have enough money to take buses will hop onto freight trains. And as they speed through towns and rail yards at night, local people will throw plastic bags of food, water and clothing to them. In Panama City, I visited a Jesuit-run shelter for migrants called Fe y Alegría. Alberto went down to Darien recently, and we know from firsthand experience that the difficulty they have is moving.

So some don't go through the stations, but they stay. So they appear here in the city. And so they arrive here and some decide to stay and forego all the difficulty of moving forward. Despite having been set up as a refuge, recent changes to Panamanian law had made that work difficult. had made that work difficult. We had to stop that service because the state literally prohibited us as agencies from providing shelter. And under the premise that

if we gave them shelter without them asking for it, they could consider us as human traffickers. So what we do now is we give them food and if they decide to stay, well, we help them with certain processes that we can call humanitarian aid for sustainability. I've seen a wide variety of faith-based aid in my time at the border, and much of it has been fantastic. But with more than a decade of refugee camps and resourceful settings, I've also learned to be a bit wary of faith-based charity. But something Elias said early in our talk gave me a great deal of respect for him. It's not just that he said it, but he took the time to address

his comments to me as a journalist, because he saw this as a problem in part created by the media. And for what it's worth, I think he's right. It's something that, as we try and help migrants on a difficult journey, we must always keep in mind. He might come from a very different background than my mutual aid group, but we do seem to share the same belief in solidarity with the migrants. Unfortunately, much of the media narrative, what they do is they victimize and ridicule people and family groups and turn them into pariahs and beggars. Then that is insulting to the dignity of the person.

So the way they portray migration is shameful in some cases. And this is very difficult. Well, for this, yes, I think that's very important. After this, I figured I'd address the issue head on. I'm asking about the many churches and Christians I see preaching hate against people coming to the southern border of the U.S. There is a sector in the Catholic Church and the Evangelical Church that opposes it and is more closely linked. And they are, in fact, they are the benefactors of Trump's campaign. So this one and this one are there.

Well, those are like groups that are rejecting, let's say, the basic principle of the church, which is that we must welcome migrants and refugees. So they fundamentally reject it. So they invent all these narratives that Haitians practice voodoo and they eat pets and this and that or that. And it's shameful. I mean, or like the Venezuelans,

that the majority of them are from Tren de Aragua gang or that they come from areas that are what you call problematic or chauvinista. And that they are infuriating. Or that all the same narrative that was created when the Maritos left Cuba. And it's not that the Cuban government is sending all the prisoners on the Mariel boats to invade the United States. It's the same narrative. Then I asked what he thought of the government's plans to close the Darien and if they could even do that. People ask me, do you think the Darien gap is going to close and that migration is going to disappear? And I say, ask the Mexicans and the North Americans

if the Sonora desert has stopped being a corridor for people after Trump, because there was a time when all the media was focused on the migration that passed through the Sonora and everything continues to happen. But then it became invisible and ceased to exist for them, but people continue to pass through and people continue to die. So as you say this, this is going to continue. Maybe not a half a million people, but the flow is going to continue. It's going to continue. And then the question we should ask ourselves is, what are we going to do? Or how are we going to accompany this flow? How are we going to accompany these lives? And in what way can let these people's lives impact us?

But like so many of us who work along the border, he says he's constantly fighting against negative messaging that encourages people not to follow their natural impulse to help and take care of one another. and take care of one another. So it's not a question of how, I always say. And sometimes they tell me, oh, that you always speak so badly of Panama. But it's not speaking badly of Panama. I love my country.

And I feel that we in general, the Panamanian communities are very welcoming and very affectionate with the migrants. The problem is the narrative that is created and then it generates stimuli that end up with a situation where are not seen so positively. And consequently, last week we had a meeting perhaps on national reality and we touched on the subject of immigrants. national reality. And we touched on the subject of immigrants. And the first reaction was, no, it's not the state that pays the fare of the migrants. It's not that. I mean, they pay their own fare. After a week of my interview requests being declined by NGOs and government offices, I found my talk with Father Elias refreshing. It's nice to know that you're

not the only one who sees the system as it is, which is fundamentally flawed and entirely propped up by misinformation, hatred, and ignorance. But I don't want to get bogged down on that. Father Elias told me that when he sees migrants, he sees God in them, and that he experiences his faith by helping others. My early experience of religion came in high school, from a priest who was a teacher who had been part of the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa. I'm not a religious person in myself, but I can understand how seeing God in other people is not that far from my own politics. If it's seeing God in other people that impels people to stand up against apartheid, or to dedicate their lives to helping migrants, then I respect that.

So after we come back, I want to try and answer the question that Padre Elias asked. What can you do? From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, better offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech from an industry veteran with nothing to lose. This season, I'm going to be joined by everyone from Nobel-winning economists to leading journalists in the field, and I'll be digging into why the products you love keep getting worse and naming and shaming those responsible. Don't get me wrong, though.

I love technology. I just hate the people in charge and want them to get back to building things that actually do things to help real people. I swear to God things can change if we're loud enough. So join me every week to understand what's happening in the tech industry and what could be done to make things better. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts. Check out betteroffline.com. Hey, I'm Gianna Prandti. And I'm Jemay Jackson-Gadsden. We're the hosts of Let's Talk Offline, the early career podcast from LinkedIn News and iHeart Podcasts.

One of the most exciting things about having your first real job is that first real paycheck. You're probably thinking, yay, I can finally buy a new phone. But you also have a lot of questions like, how should I be investing this money? I mean, how much do I save? And what about my 401k? Well, we're talking with finance expert Vivian Tu, aka Your Rich BFF, to break it all down. I always get roasted on the internet when I say this out loud, but I'm like, every single year you need to be asking for a raise of somewhere between 10 to 15%. I'm not saying you're going to get 15% every single year, but if you ask for 10 to 15 and you end up getting eight, that is actually a true raise. Listen to this week's episode of Let's Talk Offline on the

iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. I found out I was related to the guy that I was dating. I don't feel emotions correctly. I am talking to a felon right now, and I cannot decide if I like him or not. Those were some callers from my call-in podcast, Therapy Gecko. It's a show where I take real phone calls from anonymous strangers all over the world as a fake gecko therapist and try to dig into their brains and learn a little bit about their lives. I know that's a weird concept, but I promise it's pretty interesting if you give

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search for Therapy Gecko on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcast series, Black Lit, the podcast for diving deep into the rich world of Black literature. I'm Jack Peace Thomas, and I'm inviting you to join me and a vibrant community of literary enthusiasts dedicated to protecting and celebrating our stories. Black Lit is for the page turners, for those who listen to audiobooks while commuting or running errands, for those who find themselves seeking solace, wisdom, and refuge between the chapters. From thought-provoking novels to powerful poetry, we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Together, we'll dissect classics and contemporary works while uncovering the stories of the brilliant writers behind them. Blacklit is here to amplify the voices of Black writers and to bring their words to life. Listen to Black Lit on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

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You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions, sponsored by Gilead, now on the iHeartRadio app or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Thursday. After getting back from the Darién and hearing the migrants share their struggles as they waited in Mexico for an outcast designed to delay and discourage them, I really struggled to come to terms with everything I'd seen and was hearing. I've been to plenty of dangerous places, and seen war, state violence and terrorism. I know the tragedy of death and violence, but the slow and deliberate suffering inflicted on migrants by people who lie to us every day on television is particularly hard to bear for me. As I mentioned at the start

of this series, I've seen the grim reality of our migration system on my first day in Bajo Chiquito. Little girl's head hanging limply from a makeshift stretcher, the strangers carried her into town. It's all so cruel, so deliberate, and so unnecessary. And it felt so disempowering. But that doesn't mean there's nothing you can do. It doesn't mean there's nothing I can do. So basically, what we're going to be doing is we're going to go this way. I mean, we're going to start, we're going to go down into this. But we're going to go that way and see where the light break is on the hill.

In between those hills, we're going to cut up and go up in that area. That's James Cordero of Border Kindness, sitting at the roof of a group of five of us set out on a water drop in the mountains east of Okumba. It's an area called Valley of the Moon, where boulders the size of trucks stack up against each other, and where people have been crossing the border for decades. This is a remote area, and not unlike the Darién,

much of it is nearly impossible to access in a car. To get water out here, we have to walk, and if you run out of water or injure yourself so you can't walk out of here, it's possible you'll die just like the migrants do in the jungle. People get robbed here, just like in the Darién, and if it wasn't for the five of us with our backpacks full of water, people could die of thirst here, just like they do in the Darién, and if it wasn't for the five of us with our backpacks full of water, people could die of thirst here, just like they do in the jungle. As I was packing water bottles into my frame pack, I thought about little kids I'd met in Bajo Chiquito. This isn't a place for

children either, but over the last 18 months I've met hundreds of them out here. I've given them my jackets and hats, warmed up milk for babies in my camping stove, and even wrapped a little girl up in a Mylar blanket with me to warm her up last year. Just like the Tarian, the suffering here is out of sight and out of mind for most Americans. And in a year where we're constantly being told democracy is under threat, I think it bears mentioning that migrants are treated as humans without rights even when they're inside this country, and that their lives are seen as dispensable so long as whoever is in office can look quote tough on migration and make TV pundits and big money donors happy. There weren't any TV pundits or big money donors on our water drop, just a few of us everyday people.

Some people come out here because their family members have crossed the desert. Some come out because everyone who crosses the desert is part of our family. Like Bonio said in Bajo Chiquito, all humans are brothers. And none of us want our brothers or sisters to die in the mountains, whatever their passport might say. And so, nearly every weekend, people all along the border load up heavy bags with supplies. On this drop, each of us filled our packs with water,

cans of tuna, pineapple, soup, some warm clothing, and in this case, an audio recorder. Recording. Recording in progress. Of course, this gave me an opportunity to discuss my life's calling, ensuring the correct fit of backpack harness systems. Yeah, you can release those. It just doesn't wrap, though. You either have to drop the weight out, or... systems. With everyone suitably adjusted and ergonomically optimised, we switched on the audio record as I detached the straps of our packs and set off. I just feel bad for you, because there's going to be a lot of dumb shit. What am I dumb to you?

From the edge of the dirt road, we took our first steps into the desert. The first part's going to be a little slippery. You eat shits, okay? Don't be embarrassed. It happens. This part of the border isn't that far from Hukumba, where this time last year, James and I spent a freezing night trying to keep people alive, running our camping stoves on full blast, giving away our own jackets to people who needed them more than us. At that time, I'd just returned from a trip to north and east Syria,

which was stressful in its own way. And seeing both what people are leaving and how we treat them when they arrive here really pissed me off. A year later, with bags full of water, James and I spoke about things and how they had got so much worse in the last two years. But press coverage and, more importantly, donations have been way lower. It's the same story up and down the border. Record deaths, newer and harder migration routes, different migration patterns, and the people who cried outside ICE detention

centers in Trump's first term, cheering for more walls and bigger DHS budgets. Meanwhile, unlike the Trump era, we don't have the support of thousands of liberal people in California's big cities After the Democrats cynically used migrant suffering in their 2020 campaign, they abandoned them upon acquiring power And their supporters have mostly followed them So, that left five of us this particular morning to load up bags and do the life-saving work of dropping water On top of all the state violence, there's been more and more interference with water drops, and as we got further into our route, we made the increasingly common discovery that someone had taken it upon themselves to destroy our supplies.

Amount of ice. That's probably the... Nope, these ones are slashed. Slashed? Yep. Sorry about the person drinking that some runoff ice. Yeah. Idiot. This isn't unique to border kindness. Someone has been shooting supplies left by Borderlands Relief Collective half an hour west of here recently. Up and down the border, the combination of total liberal inattention and xenophobic right-wing hate whipped up by streamers who I won't name and pseudo-journalistic grifters who I will name like Bill Malugan.

Malugan, of course, was previously famous for claiming that a cop had a tampon dropped in his coffee in 2020. Spoiler alert, if you're not familiar, this wasn't true. Malugan now works as a quote-unquote border reporter for Fox News. Hey, Danny, good morning to you. We are in San Ysidro, a part of San Diego right now, where hundreds of illegal immigrants have just been mass street released from Border Patrol custody. This bus you see right here is apparently an NGO or volunteer organization bus. They've all just gotten off a Border Patrol bus. Two of them actually, they're now waiting

to board this bus. I've talked to several of them from Peru, from India, from Colombia. The group from Peru told me they are here to work. They are going to Atlanta and Minneapolis. Let's see if we can talk to some of them real quick. Atlanta. Atlanta. New Jersey. Donde? New Jersey. New Jersey. A donde vas en los Estados Unidos?

Chicago. Chicago. Y de donde son? Colombia. Colombia. Quieren trabajar? No. No?

Asilo? Si, yes. They say they want asylum, they don't want to work. De donde son? Where are you from? Senegal. Senegal. Senegal.

Africa. Senegal. From Senegal. We saw a lot of Senegalese in Lukeville, Arizona. Where in the US do you want to go to? What city? France. France. Where? France, France. Speak French. Oh, he speaks French. I obviously do not speak French. Malogan's lack of language competency isn't the only issue here. It's a whole ecosystem

of media built up of voyeuristically filming migrants without giving them a chance to humanize themselves. And it's not just a right-wing issue. This week, each day has been marked by new daily records of migrants both crossing the southern border and landing in custody. The federal government is struggling to keep up. Three homeland security officials say customs and border protection is holding about 27,000 migrants in processing facilities as of yesterday. President Biden spoke with Mexico's president about the issue earlier today. And NBC News Homeland Security correspondent Julia Ainslie joins me now to dig into this trend. So, Julia, first, just give us some perspective here.

How is Customs and Border Protection operating right now? And what are your sources saying about this historic rise in migrants at the border? Well, in some ways, there's actually a small victory here, Zinclay. When you look at the fact that CBP is seeing a record number of migrants, they've been at a record high now for three days in a row. They broke the record of 12,000, maintained that. And there are now almost 27,000 migrants in CBP custody. When we got to just about 20,000 in 2019 under the Trump administration,

there were migrants who were there for weeks and couldn't lie down to sleep because they were so overcrowded. Now, because of the technology, they're actually able to not even hold people past 72 hours and very quickly release them. But the tragedy comes after that. There are a lot of migrants who are being released on the streets without being taken to nonprofits. And some of them don't exactly know where they're supposed to go, even though CBP does try to coordinate with the cities where they are released. That's definitely happening in the Tucson, Arizona area. And Eagle Pass, Texas, even though they are scrambling as fast as they can to release migrants, there are still thousands who remain in the field, a lot of them crowded under a bridge in Eagle Pass, just waiting for CBP to take them in. The reason, a lot of people can

give you different reasons. One, perhaps Mexico isn't interdicting as many migrants as they were earlier in the year. They're now lower on funds because of these record highs. Another reason, sometimes migrants will say that they're worried about a future Republican administration or a future Trump administration that might be harder. And so they think now is the time to come. Two minutes into this report, and we haven't actually heard from a single migrant. All we hear is numbers. We also haven't heard about detention, which at the time this was released was at its peak. Again, it's just numbers and CBP statements. I should also point out that lots of people are held for more

than 72 hours or three days. The Department of Homeland Security Office of Inspector General report published in November 2023, a month before the news segment that you just heard, said that 56% of people were held for longer than that, with some people being held for more than a month. This information is publicly available. It even had a press release. I found it very quickly and I reported on it at the time, but NBC chose not to. Seeing migrants as a, quote, homeland security issue, not as people, is fundamentally the problem. And the way we fix that is showing up as people to help. Despite the massive media focus on the border in the last year, I very rarely see other journalists actually at the border. To give him credit, Malugan does sometimes show up, but he doesn't stay long, and he doesn't really have the capacity to interview migrants even if he wanted to.

The border's vast, and mostly empty. It's a place I've come to know and come to love in my time dropping water and recreating and doing other mutual aid projects out here. Now that I have a better understanding of the journeys people go through to get here, I'm even more determined to make this small part of their trip less dangerous. And besides, I get to see cool rocks. Oh, a sideways Mr. Potato Head. Yeah, it looks like he's dying off. Oh, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.

Oh my god, man! God, no, imagine it. No, I see that. Now that you say it like that. It looks very, yeah, the eyes are real close to each other. Yeah. It looks like a melting potato. Among the cool rocks, last weekend, I found a Minnie Mouse doll.

It reminded me of Noemi, the little girl I'd met in Bajo Chiquito. I'd given my number to hundreds of people before leaving Panama, and heard from dozens. But up until then, I hadn't heard from Noemi and her mum. I'd heard of people being kidnapped, robbed, raped, and ransomed. In Mexico, some of them had been caught by authorities and pushed back to Chiapas, and others had been unable to leave Tapachula after having all their money stolen. I wondered which of any of these fates had befallen Noemi, and if she was still having a Peppa Pig adventure. Sadly, between where I met her, or where I found the Minnie Mouse doll,

there's nothing else I can do. But here in the mountains outside San Diego, where the wind blows so strong sometimes you can barely stand up, I can do something. Without the ability to do something. Something which I know is meaningful. I don't know how I'd manage to stay on this beat. It's just too heartbreaking to meet good people, share meals and laughter and deep conversations with them, and then see them fed into the teeth of a machine that robs, brutalizes and kills them

so that Joe Biden can stand on a podium and say that border crossings are down this month. They are down, and that's largely due to enforcement in Mexico. But I want to make sure that everyone who does cross the border can do so safely, and they don't have to die on U.S. soil after fighting so hard to make it here. This hasn't been the case for everyone this year.

My friends up and down the border have carried far too many little memorial crossings into the mountains. And depending on the election results next week, what we're doing might be illegal soon. But that'll never make it wrong. Since early September, nine people have died in a little part of Southern California alone. My friends have searched for them, sometimes found their remains, and undertaken the thankless task of sharing the bad news with their families,

then constructed memorials in their memory. This is just one of the many dangerous parts of the migration route north, but it's the one that I can help with. If you're nearby or you're visiting for a while, there are several organizations dropping water on the border. Border Angels, Border Kindness and Borderlands Relief Collective here in San Diego, Ajo Samaritans, Noás Muertes in Arizona, groups you search and rescue as well. Obviously, not everyone lives here at the USA's southern border, but more than half of the population does live within 100 miles of a border. Even if you don't live in the USA, or maybe you do but you don't live anywhere near the border, I guarantee there are migrants in your community. In the last year, I've worked with migrant welcome committees in Maryland, church groups in the rural

south, Sikhs on the west coast, and Kurds on the East Coast, to name just a few. Without a ton of fanfare, people all over this country are making space in their homes and their hearts for strangers, feeding them, housing them, and helping them get set up in a new place. For the most part, it doesn't get coverage. And under a democratic administration, it doesn't get much public support either. But that doesn't mean it isn't necessary. Aside from all the reasons it's important, dropping water on the border is also fun for me.

It's helped me learn more about where I live. I appreciate the desert and make new friends who generally share my outlook on the world. I love being outdoors, and I'd be outdoors anyway, but this way my haiku is about much more than myself. Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast, and we're kicking off our second season digging into how tech's elite has turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires. From the chaotic world of generative AI to the destruction of Google search, Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech

from an industry veteran with nothing to lose. This season, I'm going to be joined by everyone from Nobel winning economists to leading journalists in the field. And I'll be digging into why the products you love keep getting worse and naming and shaming those responsible. Don't get me wrong, though. I love technology. I just hate the people in charge and want them to get back to building things that actually do things to help real people. I swear to God, things can change if we're loud enough. So join me every week to understand what's happening in the tech industry and what could be done to make things better. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts. Check out betteroffline.com. Hey, I'm Gianna Pardenti.

And I'm Jemay Jackson-Gadsden. We're the hosts of Let's Talk Offline, the early career podcast from LinkedIn News and iHeart Podcasts. One of the most exciting things about having your first real job is that first real paycheck. You're probably thinking, yay, I can finally buy a new phone. But you also have a lot of questions like, how should I be investing this money? I mean, how much do I save? And what about my 401k? Well, we're talking with finance expert Vivian Tu, aka Your Rich BFF, to break it all down.

I always get roasted on the internet when I say this out loud, but I'm like, every single year you need to be asking for a raise of somewhere between 10 to 15 percent. I'm not saying you're going to get 15 percent every single year. But if you ask for 10 to 15 and you end up getting eight, that is actually a true raise. Listen to this week's episode of Let's Talk Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts. I found out I was related to the guy that I was dating. I don't feel emotions correctly. I am talking to a felon right now, and I cannot decide if I like him or not.

Those were some callers from my call-in podcast, Therapy Gecko. It's a show where I take real phone calls from anonymous strangers all over the world as a fake gecko therapist and try to dig into their brains and learn a little bit about their lives. I know that's a weird concept, but I promise it's pretty interesting if you give it a shot. Matter of fact, here's a few more examples of the kinds of calls we get on this show. I live with my boyfriend and I found his piss jar in our apartment. I collect my roommate's toenails and fingernails. I have very overbearing parents.

Even at the age of 29, they won't let me move out of their house. So if you want an excuse to get out of your own head and see what's going on in someone else's head, search for Therapy Gecko on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. It's the one with the green guy on it. vibrant community of literary enthusiasts dedicated to protecting and celebrating our stories. Black Lit is for the page turners, for those who listen to audiobooks while commuting or running errands, for those who find themselves seeking solace, wisdom, and refuge between the chapters. From thought-provoking novels to powerful poetry, we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Together, we'll dissect

classics and contemporary works while uncovering the stories of the brilliant writers behind them. Black Lit is here to amplify the voices of Black writers and to bring their words to life. Listen to Black Lit on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Curious about queer sexuality, cruising, and expanding your horizons? Hit play on the sex-positive and deeply entertaining podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Join hosts Gabe Gonzalez and Chris Patterson Rosso as they explore queer sex, cruising, relationships, and culture in the new iHeart podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Sniffy's Cruising Confessions will broaden minds and help you pursue your

true goals. You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions, sponsored by Gilead, now on the iHeartRadio app, or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Thursday. Yeah, yeah. Yeah, what's that mean when you get somewhere with signal?

Yeah, please, to all of you, please share it. I'd like to follow your journey, if that's okay. And maybe we can talk again when you're in America. I gave my number to hundreds of people in the Dalian, as well as some websites they might find useful. One of their NGOs explained the CBP One app were the ones that might direct them to resources along their route. Last Sunday night, as I was absent by at least thumbing through a shotgun reloading manual in my living room as I love to do, my phone started

buzzing. It's done this so many times in the last month. Mostly, it's a photo of someone I met updating me on their journey, or one of the little wooden animals that I give to children, which has made its way to Mexico and hopefully given them some comfort along the way. Often it's less positive news, someone's been robbed or simply run out of money and they need help. But I got two messages this Sunday which lifted my spirits. Noemi, the little girl who had an adventure like Peppa Pig in the jungle, wanted to know how I was doing and she sent me a photo of the tiny stone bear that I'd given her. She also wanted to know if we could still go to see Minnie Mouse if she came to America, which I assured her we could. I think it'd be quite apt to visit a place which bills itself

as the happiest place on earth, with someone I met in one of the most desperate parts of the planet. The second message was from one of the migrants I'd met in the jungle, telling me she'd made it to America. Not just to America, but to a part of the border where I'd been dropping water with my friends just a few weeks before I left for Panama. She sent me a photo of a rock with a message on it, one with which I'm very familiar. She told me about her walk, one which I've made myself. She told me how hard it was. I said I knew, but really I don't know, because I wasn't carrying months of trauma with me on the mountain. She's the only person out of hundreds that I met who's made it here. Most of them are in Mexico now, and most of them will remain there, or maybe get sent back home. Or maybe they'll make a

desperate attempt to cross this week, as you hear this, before the election. It made me so happy to see someone safely here, one person out of hundreds. For so many of the migrants I met, America was a dream and the journey was a nightmare. Since this series began airing, I've seen videos of people I care about clinging to freight trains, their bruised bodies after being beaten. I've helped them find healthcare after they were sexually assaulted and tried to find room at overcrowded shelters. I've helped trans ladies navigate all of this and transphobia and misogyny and tried to find resources in French and English and Portuguese for non-Spanish speakers. I'd hoped that I'd finished this series with a single good story. A story of someone who made it,

who's living the American dream that people died for in the jungle. But I can't, because even the people who made it here are here temporarily, and broadcasting anything about their journey would put them at risk, whoever wins the election next week. So instead, I want to end with how you can make a difference. And I'll start with a story on how little things can make big differences. One day in Bajo Chiquito, I was sitting around with a few Venezuelan kids, probably four to eight years old, ripping pages out of my write-in-the-rain notebook to make paper aeroplanes before I interviewed their parents. I asked them about the jungle. They said it was scary and they had nightmares now.

I often find kids in these places get scared of the dark, and I used to bring these crappy little electric lights for them, but they're bulky and they're not very good. Recently, I've been carrying little packets of fishing glow sticks instead. They cost about ten bucks for maybe little packets of fishing glow sticks instead. They cost about 10 bucks for maybe 100 of the little green lights. So I pulled out my glow sticks, cut my hands, and snapped one. The children were amazed at the little glowing rod. So I gave them the rest of the packet and told them they could keep them for any time they were scared of the dark.

Nearly a month later, I sometimes get a message on my phone with a photo of a little tiny glow stick and a note of thanks. One thing that Father Elias said that really impacted me is that when he meets migrants, he asks what he sees of God in them, and his work for them is where he finds what there is of God in himself. I think I've struggled so much with this series in part because I have seen so much of the best of other people, and indeed the best of myself in such hard places. I always struggle a little to readjust after trips like this, but this one's been particularly hard. In the jungle,

I saw people helping, and in a sense, we were all in it together. When it rained, we all got wet, and when it got hot, we all huddled together in the shade. We shared bottles of water, we sat at the same tables and ate together. I can't really begin to experience a full Daradian experience because I've been lucky enough never to have anything that bad to run away from. But I have experienced incredible solidarity and kindness of the people who went through it. I've also experienced the incredible indifference of people at home and indeed of the states and governments of the world. The Colombian friends at Beton Las Blancas and Bajo Chiquito, who are handcuffed and deported and ripped from their families, have already invited me to come and stay in their homes

in Colombia. But if their families make it here, they won't encounter that kind of hospitality. Just last week, I helped to translate for a Venezuelan family living on the street in San Diego. Some of my friends do sponsor migrants, and that's something anyone can do. If you're able to, it's an incredible thing you can do to change someone's life, and I can't encourage you enough to do so. I really do see the best of myself, of my friends, and of humanity in our work to help migrants. I would say that on Reflectio, and I wasn't really an anarchist until 2018, when I watched the states of the world abandon thousands of migrants in Tijuana and climbed a fence with my friends to take care of them, and specifically to distribute three huge backpacks full of waffles another

friend had sent from his waffle factory. I'd stopped believing in the benevolence of the state a long time before, but it wasn't really until then that I really understood the power of people organising horizontally to provide each other with dignity. Ever since then, I've drawn a lot of hope for humanity in the same places I despair for people. Maybe that's why I keep going back. Since then, at the border, I've seen people die. I've held crying babies and crying parents. I've also shared meals with people from around the world, made friends for life, and learned Kurdish disco songs about killing people. I've danced around campfires with people I couldn't have imagined meeting when I first

made my own journey here. Last Christmas, when I'd normally be at the bar with my friends, I sat on a rock in the desert eating a cold vegan MRE with an Ecuadorian family and some of my friends. In all the Christmases I can remember, I never felt so much like I was in the right place, doing the right thing, with the right people. Well, I've seen a lot of terrible things at the border in the jungle, and I'll never forget those. More importantly, I've seen that together we can do incredible things, and we can make the state irrelevant, especially in the places it's chosen to be absent.

I don't think we should make demands of the state anymore. It's simply not in its nature to care. But I do think we should make demands of ourselves. I don't believe in God, and I've written a whole dissertation about people who burn churches. But I think I see something that's just as special to me in the experience of mutual aid, and in the way it fulfills not only people's material needs, but also our human desire for dignity and mutual respect. When I drop water at the border, or carry someone's bags in the jungle, I see myself in them, and I hope they see themselves a little bit in me. But right now our asylum system is so broken that very few people even make it far enough to drink the water I leave at the border. And despite the border featuring heavily in this year's election,

there seems to be no national concern about the way our tax dollars brutalize people across the continent. So I want to end by asking you what you could do. It might be coming down here to drop water. It might be sending down here to drop water. It might be sending some money to one of the links I'll include in the description. It might be offering to translate for asylum seekers. It might just be talking to people and helping to change the narrative. You can vote or not next week. But there isn't a box you can take that will change the things I saw in the jungle.

Trump wants to deport millions more people. Harris wants to pass a bill that will kill more people. You can't pass your commitments off to someone whose box you take every four years. You have to take them on for yourself. The way we change things is in the way we do things every day, every week, not once every four years. I want to end with Noemi's mum and her message to the American people. I also want to ask if anyone knows how to get cheap tickets to Disneyland, because I've just looked that up and I cannot stress enough how unable I am to afford it. Please excuse us, because we know that we are knocking on that door. There are a lot of us, but we are desperate,

because complaining about the president we have is not helping us. No, he's doing almost nothing. So our children have no future and our country won't support us. It's not easy to leave our parents, our friends, our relatives, our grandparents. And we do not know if we will ever return or if we will ever see them again. It is not easy. But we also think about a future for our children. And I do not know what we will ever return or if we will ever see them again. It is not easy, but we also think about a future for our children and I do not know what has happened, but we

feel like living in a dictatorship. We are living something very unpleasant and we do not get any help. But those who help us, we want to say thank you. They opened that door for us. They have opened many doors for many Venezuelans and And, well, we hope and faith that they will open them for us. I want to take this opportunity to thank a few people who made this possible. Firstly, Darianela Bruse, my fixer. She was incredible. Secondly, I want to thank iHeart for paying for this. Like I said, it's been nearly a decade that I've been asking to do this story, and I'm just really

happy that they trusted me to do it. Thirdly, I want to thank everyone who trusted me with their stories, everybody who stayed in touch as they've come north. I want to thank Border Kindness and Borderlands Relief Collective who have both welcomed me on their drops. And it's not always easy to be around a journalist. It's not easy to let someone record everything you're doing out there and there are inherent risks to that. And I really appreciate them trusting me. I want to thank Dutch Wear Hammocks who rush shipped me a hammock when my old one tore right before I left. And I think most of all, I want to thank all of you for listening, taking the time

and, uh, all the listeners who have reached out to say they're listening to the series. People have reached out to ask how they can help. I would love to organize a way to help the people I've spoken to. I spoke to someone just this morning who's still stuck in Tapa Chula because she was robbed and her and her daughter are 500 bucks short for the bus. To ride north to Tijuana I don't have the capacity to organize that right now but if someone else does they should reach out to me because I would really like to help these people who have become my friends and who

I care about and who are right now stuck in a very dangerous place because someone in Washington DC has made a choice to treat them with cruelty and not kindness. So if that's you, if you're the person who could administer that, please let me know. Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed the series. It Could Happen Here is a production of Cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from Cool Zone Media, visit our website, coolzonemedia.com, or check us out on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can now find sources for It Could Happen Here listed directly in episode descriptions. Thanks for listening. Curious about queer sexuality, cruising, and expanding your horizons?

Hit play on the sex positive and deeply entertaining podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Join hosts Gabe Gonzalez and Chris Patterson Rosso as they explore queer sex, cruising, relationships, and culture in the new iHeart podcast, Sniffy's Cruising Confessions. Sniffy's Cruising Confessions will broaden minds and help you pursue your true goals. You can listen to Sniffy's Cruising Confessions, sponsored by Gilead, now on the iHeartRadio app or wherever you get your podcasts. New episodes every Thursday. Hi, I'm Ed Zitron, host of the Better Offline podcast. And we're kicking off our second season digging into tech's elite and how they've turned Silicon Valley into a playground for billionaires. From the chaotic world of generative AI to the

destruction of Google search, Better Offline is your unvarnished and at times unhinged look at the underbelly of tech brought to you by an industry veteran with nothing to lose. Listen to Better Offline on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, wherever else you get your podcasts from. The 2025 iHeart Podcast Awards are coming. This is the chance to nominate your podcast for the industry's biggest award. Submit your podcast for nomination now at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. But hurry, submissions close on December 8th. Hey, you've been doing all that talking. It's time to get rewarded for it. Submit your podcast today at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. That's iHeart.com slash podcast awards. On Thanksgiving Day, 1999, five-year-old Cuban boy Elian Gonzalez was found off the coast of Florida. And the question was, should the boy go back to his father in Cuba?

Mr. Gonzalez wanted to go home, and he wanted to take his son with him. Or stay with his relatives in Miami. Imagine that your mother died trying to get you to freedom. Listen to Chess Peace, the Elian Gonzalez story on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Hey, I'm Jacqueline Thomas, the host of a brand new Black Effect original series, Black Lit, the podcast for diving deep into the rich world of Black literature. Black Lit is for the page turners, for those who listen to audiobooks while running errands or at the end of a busy day. From thought-provoking novels to powerful poetry, we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Listen to Black Lit on the Black Effect Podcast Network, iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts,

or wherever you get your podcasts. AT&T, connecting changes everything.