All posts by Makenna Mizell

Unpacking the Trip

Human Rights, Migrant Death, Reflections

We got back from our trip to Falfurrias late on Thursday night, but it didn’t feel like the trip was really over until I was back in my apartment, looking up at my ceiling as I tried to fall asleep. In a way, it still doesn’t feel like it has ended, as I’ve procrastinated unpacking my suitcase all of the way and it currently sits opened on my floor and blocking the door to my room–making me shimmy my way in and out every day.

The next morning there wasn’t much time for reflection either, as I headed straight into training for my job at 10am and didn’t have much time to think about the trip. It strikes me now that until this moment, as I write this, I haven’t had much time for reflection at all. I’ve been going from training to working to sleeping, and even when people ask me about how the trip was, I find myself at a loss for words for what to say.

How was the trip? What was it like? What did you find? Did you have a good time?

Members of the 2025 team preparing for a line search.
Members of the 2025 team preparing for a line search.

These questions and more have seemed hard to formulate responses to, and even now I’m not really sure how to answer any of them. The trip was good, I learned a lot and I still feel like I’m learning more as time goes on, but I’m not sure how to describe what it was like, and my answers feel much too simple.

It is hard to take the time to explain to others what it was that we did there and what that means when I’m still unpacking things myself.

I think when I am asked whether or not I had a good time, I find myself thinking about the team. Because, for approximately a week, they were the only people I was regularly interacting with. We woke up together, drove everywhere together, ate together, and fell asleep together. We enjoyed our Emergen-C packets at the start of every day (which I do miss, funny enough) and bonded in the evenings over how our days had been. It is easy to articulate your feelings when there are people alongside you, sharing the weight of those experiences.

My mind drifts to the migrants, their hardships, their lives, and the cultures that they are all leaving behind to come to the United States, and I feel a great sympathy for them. We spent days walking through the brush with gear, gators, compasses, and hats, drinking clean water, and dousing ourselves in sunscreen and bug spray, and even then it wasn’t an easy day of work. I find myself trying to put myself into their shoes, to think about what they experience and the hardships they face on their journeys, and I find it hard to think about. Because I’ve never experienced that, and I most likely never will.

The Brooks County Search and Recovery patch.
The Brooks County Search and Recovery patch.

But above all I find myself thinking about their families, their friends, thinking about the graves that we saw at Sacred Heart Cemetery, and the beautiful decorations that adorned them. I find myself wondering about the lack of permanent gravesites for the individuals who have been lost on the journey, and what it can mean to make a crucial recovery like that.

But, as great as it can be to make a recovery, I have to remind myself that it isn’t something that happens easily and that not making a recovery is just as important as making one. While there, we made one recovery, but we also managed to clear out areas that Don was interested in searching, and I think that that is often overlooked. I know I overlook it when judging how “successful” our trip was, which seems a bit trivial in the grand scheme of things.

Beyond that, going on this trip changed my perspective on a lot of things. It is easy to think of these things as black and white, as that is often the way the border crisis is portrayed in many forms of media. Even with my own perspectives, which I once viewed to be very open and understanding, going on this trip showed me that much of my viewpoint ignores just how vast of a situation this is, one that has huge social and political implications that affect both the migrants and the people around them.

The border crisis is a multifaceted situation, one that is not easily solved by a simple law or a change in viewpoints. The work we did here may seem small in the grand scheme of things, and in a way, it may be. But the work we did here, the work Don and Ray do here, has lasting impacts on the way that the crisis is viewed, talked about, and dealt with.

It is important then to not view this as the end of my humanitarian work, but rather as the start of it. This trip wasn’t just a one-time experience–it was the start of a commitment to understanding, advocating, and helping wherever I can.

As I finally start to unpack it all–both my suitcase and my thoughts–I find myself grateful for the lessons learned and the connections made. I may not have all of the answers to the questions people ask me, and I may never be able to articulate the depth of what this trip meant to me, but I do know that the emotions felt and the perspectives gained will continue to influence me in ways I am only just beginning to understand.

The road on the way to one of the ranches.
The road on the way to one of the ranches.

I’m endlessly grateful to Don, Ray, Dr. Latham, Dr. Eriksen, Frankey, Chastity, and Lilly for helping me every step of the way.

– Makenna

Dr. Latham, Don, and Ray on a walk through the ranch.

Day 3: A Day in the Heat

Environment, Human Rights, Migrant Death, Snapshots

When I woke up this morning the first thing I realized was just how tired I was. Not only did my eyelids feel heavy, but my feet and back had begun to ache more than they had the past two days. This wouldn’t normally be a problem for me, I would just put on a comfy pair of socks and go, but given the fact that it was our hottest day (a sunny 86 degrees), adding more layers for comfort really wasn’t the best idea.

It was also the first morning that I didn’t know what to expect. We had known the night before the previous two days what we would generally be doing, but today we had less of a clue. It wasn’t until Don and Ray got to our hotel that we learned that we would be heading out to a ranch where previous recoveries had been made. There were no specific coordinates or locations we were searching at, but Don had done recoveries at some of the surrounding ranches, and this one had not been searched in a while, so we set off.

The back of Don's sheriff uniform.
The back of Don’s uniform.
Socks on her way back to the group.
Socks on her way back to the group.

Day 3 of our time in Falfurrias would start about an hour or so from where we were staying, and for the first time, we got to take the minivan out onto the ranch. I’ll be the first to say that I was surprised we got as far as we did without being in one of Ray or Don’s massive trucks, but we managed! The drive along the ranch roads was also filled with interesting things to see, from fences to pipeline trails to even a larger number of nilgai (a type of antelope from India) and deer. The spot we stopped at was quiet (save for the whipping wind that made it hard to hear what anyone was saying): a two-track road with thick brush on one side and a fence line on the other.

Two members of the team searching the surrounding area.
Two members of the team searching the surrounding area.

The moment we stopped along the two-track it was time to begin, and we started by just prepping our gear and putting on lots of bug spray and extra sunscreen, both necessary for the type of thick brush we were looking at examining in this heat. Don took off into the brush to look for evidence of people, whether that be tracks or food wrappers or otherwise, and we started by beginning a line search along the grassy area between the two-track and the brush.

A little side note here: line searches are harder than they look… especially if you are acting as an anchor! I offered to be the anchor for our first line searches of the day, which essentially means that I stood at one end (in this instance along the two-track) and set the pace and direction of our walking. The job of the anchor is to make sure that we all stay in a line and an equal distance apart so that the area is thoroughly examined. Sounds simple right? Well, the hard part is how many moving parts there are to it. If I spent all my time looking at the members of my team and making sure that they were all in line and at a good pace, I found that I kept forgetting to check the area I was walking in, and vice versa. I’m also admittedly not the loudest individual, so offering directions loud enough for the entire team to hear was a big challenge for me, but we managed all right in the end (I hope!).

The team during a line search.
The team during a line search.

Our search didn’t yield much evidence of people, but it did yield a great number of animal bones, namely cow bones and deer antlers. Among these cow bones, we found many vertebrae, femurs, scapulas, and more- all massive in comparison to the human skeletons I am used to seeing in the osteology lab and the anatomy classroom. It was especially interesting to see how they differed from human bones, and how similar some bones were.

Dr. Eriksen with a fused cow radius and ulna.
Dr. Eriksen with a fused cow radius and ulna.

Dr. Eriksen also quizzed us on what some of the bones were and what side they were from, which was a fun challenge (though it did show me that I have a bit of review to do before taking osteology in the spring).

We found many areas in our searches today that had larger remains of nilgai and cow, and many deer antlers which were especially cool to see. It was also really interesting to hear Ray call out things like “4 point” and “6 point” any time we found them, and I learned that this has to do with the number of tines on a deer’s antlers (either on one antler or in total among the two antlers).

After walking a good ways from the trucks and doing some small searches, the sun was high in the sky and I think we were also feeling more than a bit fatigued, so we began to head back to the trucks. Ray suggested Dairy Queen for ice cream and a late lunch, which was a welcome break from the heat. It wasn’t until later in the evening during our debrief that we learned the real reason we had left in such a hurry: border patrol was actively pursuing a group of migrants not far from us.

After we left the ranch, Dr. Latham took us to the Sacred Heart Cemetary in Falfurrias, and we got to hear a bit of the history behind her work here in Texas searching for unidentified migrants.

Sacred Heart Cemetery.
Sacred Heart Cemetery.

She began taking students to Falfurrias in 2013 after being invited by a professor from a different university, and at first the work involved going to the cemetery to look in unmarked plots of land for unidentified migrants who had been buried there in hopes of possibly identifying them. When we got to the cemetery I remember how calm it felt, even with the amount of people there visiting their loved ones. But one of the biggest things I noticed was how different it was from the cemeteries I was used to visiting, and I was really struck by the difference in the cultural view of death and life. For one, the headstones were decorated with beautiful flowers and figurines, and many of the sites had benches for people to sit at and windchimes in the trees. Some had food placed there, and others were decorated for the holidays (many had Christmas decorations still up). In this area, a grave didn’t feel like a somber scene, but rather one to celebrate those who had lived.

Grave marker of Wilmer
Grave marker of Wilmer Guardado.

Dr. Latham showed us a small marker for Wilmer Guardado, a previously unidentified man with a small marker to commemorate his burial, and even that was decorated with beautiful flowers. She brought up that there is still a bit of uncertainty regarding whether or not his family even knows that he’s been identified, and it really put everything into perspective for me. We collectively use the term “migrants” to describe those who cross the border, but they really are people like any of us. People with lives and passions and families, and people who deserve to have identities known and stories told. Dr. Latham has been coming here since 2013, and just knowing all of the work and change that has been done because of people like her and Don and Ray and numerous others shows how important and necessary this work is. I’m really proud to be a part of something greater than myself.

Infrared image of a herd of nilgai seen on Don's drone.
Infrared image of a herd of nilgai seen on Don’s drone.

We ended the day with tacos from Laredo Taco Company and taking out Don’s drone to one of the more heavily wooded areas on the side of the road. It was a nice way to decompress after a long day in the heat, and it was interesting to see how the infrared camera on the drone picked up various wildlife like wild hog, nilgai, and more via heat signature. One thing I didn’t know was that even things like trees and bushes can hold onto heat until early in the morning, and Don even talked about how he had used the drone to locate spots for recovery.

Altogether, today was a day of learning, and a lot of reflection, and I don’t know that I’ve perfectly articulated it all here. Even on days like this where we don’t make a recovery, there is still so much to say. But, what I do know is that I’m excited to head back into the brush tomorrow with the team by my side.

– Makenna

Lilly, Frankey, Chastidy, Ray, and Makenna in the back of Don's truck.
Lilly, Frankey, Chastidy, Ray, and Makenna in the back of Don’s truck at the end of the day.

Finding My Footing

Snapshots

I have known about this initial blog post for what must be around two weeks now, and I have spent a good portion of that time sitting and pondering what to write and how best to write it. What words should I use? What is it that I want to talk about? What will make me sound like I know what I am doing and am ready for this trip? What can I say that hasn’t already been said?

To be honest, I still am not sure.

I’m writing this on Christmas day, and I’ve spent the entire day pondering (or perhaps worrying about) the superficial necessities of the trip. What snacks should I bring? What clothing should I pack? What music should I download to listen to on the plane? I have thought a lot about what I should pack and worried that I will pack too much, or even too little, and won’t be prepared for this trip. I’ve discussed the trip in length with many of my friends and family, all eager to hear about what the team and I will be doing. I’ve also done my best to answer countless questions about where Falfurrias, Texas is in relation to Dallas, Houston, and Austin (spoiler: it is not particularly close to any of them, as I’ve come to learn). And yet, in all this time spent worrying over snacks, music, and clothing, I have not given myself the time to truly relax and contemplate what it means to go on this trip.

I’ve been asking myself what it is that I hope to learn from this experience. How can I contribute meaningfully, what will I take away from this trip? And I repeatedly find myself focusing on my limitations, rather than my strengths. I’m a worrier, I’m emotional, I’m a bit (okay, more than a bit) unconfident in myself, and these have all culminated in me worrying about my position on this trip, and my ability to do good like I desperately want to. In all my thoughts about the trip, I find myself most afraid that I’ll end up stumbling along the way.

In the midst of all of my planning and worrying, I’ve realized that I haven’t yet stopped to reflect on why I’m going on this trip- and what it means for me as a student and a person. My heart knows that this is not a vacation, yet my mind refused to let me compartmentalize it as anything else, perhaps to keep me from worrying too greatly about it. But Falfurrias, and Brooks County as a whole, is more than just a destination for the team and me to do anthropological work, it is a location of complex histories and sociopolitical nuances that I am still learning so much about. Perhaps it is the anthropologist in me, but I cannot help but find myself wondering about the many different people I’ll encounter–whether it be in the field, at the Whataburger I’ve heard so much about, or even at the hotel–and the connections I’ll make, not only with the locals but also with my team.

There’s a great privilege in being able to think this way, a privilege that not all are afforded. For many, the luxury of introspection or the ability to reflect on purpose is overshadowed by the immediate demands of survival, safety, or necessity. We’re going down to the border to search for migrants–people who have faced unimaginable hardships, risking everything for the hope of a better life. These individuals’ stories are marked by resilience, desperation, and courage, but too often end unheard.

The weight of this reality isn’t lost on me. It’s a privilege to approach this work with time to ponder, plan, and even worry about things like packing and playlists. But for the people we’ll be searching for, every decision made along their journeys was one of necessity, not convenience. They didn’t have the luxury to overthink. This trip isn’t just about the work we’re doing–it’s about recognizing the humanity in every step we take and every story we uncover.

Part of me feels overwhelmed by the responsibility of experiencing something so profound, so real. There are many nuances here, ones I have only just begun to understand fully. I don’t know how I will react when I’m out there, gazing across the great expanse of ranch land, or what emotions will rise to the surface. I want to believe that I will be stoic and strong, that I’ll somehow absorb an ounce of the talent and skill of the others on this trip–but I suppose I won’t truly know until I’m there, boots in the dirt, and seeing it all for myself. Privilege allows me to do this work, and with that comes the responsibility to approach it with humility, empathy, and respect for the gravity of what we are undertaking.

As I write this I’ve come to realize that this trip isn’t about being “ready” in the way I might want to be. And I’ve come closer to accepting that that is okay. Because maybe it’s not about packing the perfect bag or erasing all my worries. Instead, maybe it’s about stepping into the unknown, being open to growth and understanding, and trusting that even in my uncertainty, I’ll find my footing.

– Makenna