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Sunday, June 23, 2019

HOMES INSTEAD- Let's Shut Down Homestead's Child Detention Facility

      I saw them today, hundreds of kids marching single file in ninety-degree heat at Homestead's prison for kids. They were surrounded by blue-uniformed guards at the medium-security facility. These children committed no crime.  They walked to to our southern border to escape the hell our country created in Central America.

   There are about 1700 of them there now ages 13 to 17, far from their families. We stood outside waving hearts from far away,
the only thing we could think of to tell them, "We care". Many kids waved back. Their uniforms are t-shirts topped by bright orange caps. 
     Visiting the detention facility is important. You are  bearing witness to our country's broken immigration policies, and, showing concern for the lack of transparency and oversight of the sprawling detention facility.
    Stop by, as many did today, to stand on ladders and say, "I care about you guys".  The one-on-one's with the briefly smiling individuals will warm your heart.     It's not a summer camp. The kids are there 24/7 living in huge Art Basel-style tents. Each "room" has 140 beds. 
     It is suggested that you visit between 10 and 4 p.m., 920 Bouganville Blvd., Homestead, FL 33039.  There's a heart on a stick waiting for you. 
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Play Time


Sending love beyond the fence
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NOTE:    It's sad that few locals show up to protest.  When we were there 90% of the protestors were out-of state, from places like Minnesota, New Orleans, and even Alaska.  Here's an newspaper article by David Nurenberg who traveled 1500 miles to spend Fathers Day at the prison.


A Somerville father joined a team of witnesses at the Homestead Detention Center in Florida on Father’s Day.
The following was submitted by Somerville’s David Nurenberg.

Instead of spending Father’s Day with my two young kids, I was standing on the third step of a rickety stepladder, peering over an eight foot tall perimeter fence to try and catch a glimpse of other people’s children.
I had joined a team of witnesses at the Homestead Detention Center in Florida, and it wasn’t long before I saw interned children being marched out to recreation time in the yard, flanked by blue-uniformed staffers. A makeshift soccer pitch and basketball hoop had been placed in the drab, dusty courtyard, and the kids kicked and tossed balls in the shadow of dilapidated military buildings repurposed as dorms. They shouted and laughed and for a moment, this seemed like recess at my own kids’ school.
But none of these kids high-fived each other after goals. None of them wandered or congregated beyond the patrolled limits of the play area. All of them took clear pains to make sure none of the adults were watching before furtively waving to us, then quickly turning away. After every few minutes, the adults marched them away in order to accommodate the next round of children coming outside.
The reason I told my own kids for why I had traveled 1,500 miles to watch this bizarre parody of childhood was, “when children are being hurt, especially by grown-ups, other grown-ups need to step up.” Literally standing on ladders, we waved giant cardboard hearts and shouted through megaphones: “no estan solos, estamos con ustedes” You are not alone, we are with you. Some of us occasionally misspoke, “no estamos solos” – we are not alone. A declaration, or a wish? In one very real sense, we were not alone: armed security, on foot and in trucks, followed us constantly, making sure we did not cross the side of the street that separated public roads from this “restricted facility.”
The majority of the 1,000-3,000 children interned at this facility were arrested at the US/Mexican border, either unaccompanied or (reports differ) forcibly separated from family members with whom they arrived. They are now interned indefinitely at a facility that, while paid for by $500,000 a day of our tax dollars, is managed by a for-profit company.
Contrary to what you might think, not everyone in our group was in favor of unrestricted migration. Most of us believe that rule of law needs to govern immigration. But the Homestead detention center is itself breaking the law; claiming exception by virtue of being an “emergency influx facility,” it violates the 1993 Flores Agreement requiring interned immigrant children be held no longer than twenty days (some of the kids here have been held for months). Worse, it is exempt from child safety regulations, including appropriate background checks for its employees. When an investigatory team from the Center for Human Rights and Constitutional Law was finally granted access, they soon after filed a motion to enforce Flores, citing such depredations as:
* Children housed twelve to a room with few windows and no doors, staff members standing guard in each entranceway, or else housed on hundreds on beds packed into an airplane hangar.
*A cafeteria, medical unit and dormitories that are “unclean” and “smelled of mildew, with “disturbingly high” noise levels.
* Punishments for taking more than five minutes to shower, or not finishing their food.
* Delays of medical care of “up to several days” despite “repeated requests”
* Schooling that takes place in a subdivided tent holding over 2,000 children, often in “an unstructured and disorganized environment not suitable for nor conducive to learning.”
* Denying children access to visitors, family members and lawyers
* A practice of moving children who turn 18 into solitary confinement, sometimes for more than two days in a windowless, toilet-less room before being led in shackles to an ICE facility.
What upset my own children most was hearing that the interned kids are strictly forbidden to touch or hug, even their siblings, and are not allowed to talk to or even look at members of the opposite sex.
I told my kids that while we couldn’t stop it single-handedly, I could at least see as much of it as possible with my own eyes, testify that this is not “fake news” but revolting reality. I also listened to community members share stories from released internees, or from some of the brave workers who secretly turned whistleblowers.
We rallied outside the facility to demand its immediate shutdown, that the children be released to waiting sponsors or to nonprofit facilities operating under appropriate regulatory supervision. We argued the estimated $190 million in profit that Comprehensive Health Services (owned by Caliburn, International, upon whose board sits former Trump Chief of Staff John Kelly) makes off this facility could be better invested in supporting legal, humane facilities. We demanded that President Trump end the policy of treating asylum seekers as criminals.
Contrary to Trump administration claims, numerous studies have shown that family separations and child detention do not deter immigration. Even if they did, what data could possibly justify cases like the mother who testified to being handcuffed as police literally tore her baby from her breast, or the father who committed suicide after his daughter was taken from him. This is not about Democrats, Republicans, or even immigration, but basic humanity that we should all agree on.
Some Homestead locals have been keeping vigil for over 125 days. One told us she had quit her job to do witnessing full time. When we asked her what prompted her to do this, she stared at us. “You climbed to that third step?” she asked, indicating the ladder. “Then you know.”
I had the luxury of returning Monday to a nice dinner with my family, after which we began drafting letters demanding our representatives support the Shut Down Child Prison Camps Act and the Families Not Facilities Act. Although I missed Father’s Day, I did try to bring a present back to my kids: a model of what to do when, someday, they climb that third step themselves.
If you are interested in ways you can get involved with this issue, visit https://migrantjustice.afsc.org/ , http://investigate.afsc.org/ and https://floridaimmigrant.org/placemarks/wecount/
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Monday, June 3, 2019

IF YOU BUILD IT SHE WILL COME

    Two years ago Francesca wanted an owl house for her birthday.  I recycled an ancient pine hurricane shutter into this high-rise home. The little house clings to our mango tree. We never saw it occupied until the other day.
     We were showing our home to a prospective buyer when she asked, "Does the owl come 

with the house?"



    THRILLED a does not adequately describe how we felt to see this little feller peering out. She's an Eastern Screech Owl now living in our back yard with her soulmate. 
    When its nearly dark they come out to perch on the Dr. Zeus tree. Then they begin flitting around  grabbing bugs, lizards, and anything else that looks tasty. 



    We sleep better now accompanied by our fluffy friends and their occasional trills. 
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