| July 15, 2005 Red Alert by Soren Wuerth Paranoia Will Destroy Ya
I’m always nervous about crossing borders. The old movie Midnight Express, where a young man is incarcerated in a Turkish prison for trying to smuggle hashish out of the country, still haunts me when I approach customs. My hands clench the steering wheel tightly as I rehearse my speech. My pulse quickens. Are those beads of sweat forming on my brow? I hold my hand open out the window as I approach the gate to cool it down (the customs agent may see the dark, damp evidence of my grip on the wheel). Entering the Blaine border, south from Vancouver, I had reason to worry. I carried no drugs, but I knew the horror stories, and had even experienced some myself. Once I was denied entry into Canada after a long search and, ultimately, because I did not have the necessary amount of cash. The border agent was a Mormon woman from Utah. Why she worked for Canadian customs, I cannot recall. Another time, at the Blaine border entering the United States, I had to park while agents with dogs sniffed through my blue Dodge Ram. Then there was the time when a big hitchhiker with long curly hair and I waited for hours in the snow because a heavy customs official, his crack exposed while he buried himself in the bed of my truck, found the man’s pipe. This time, however, I was more worried about my political record. During a family reunion in Canada, some of the older folks speculated on the risk of crossing under the “Wuerth” name. My mom was voluntarily arrested with six others for “civil obedience” in 2003 at the Anchorage tax office for helping pay, through her taxes, for the illegal invasion of Iraq. She thinks her computer is bugged because she checks in, now and then, with Iraq’s independent Al Jazeera. Police targeted my brother as an agitator in a Colorado Springs anti-war protest and swept him off a street corner. My activism, of course, can easily be Googled. In Vancouver, we heard stories about my how my cousin had to cancel a tour with her band, Maus, after a U.S. border guard found a cartoon depicting the group. The evidence had “a likeness” to the “vehicle occupants.” Canadian bands aren’t allowed to play in the United States without work visas (economic freedom). So, pasty-white and worried, we waited in queue as the cars moved forward. When it was our turn we drove toward a woman standing near a guard station. Strobe lights flashed as we passed the photography trigger. The woman asked us a few questions, “what did you buy that you are bringing across (a few beers and a nuclear device), “where are you going?” (to Ruby Ridge for a few beers). We moved on. During the past 15 years of activism, I have heard my share of paranoid projections. Mostly, the speculations are humorous, but some, however, are destructive to the cause. People worry about participating in a protest because someone at work will see them and they will be fired from their jobs, there may be reprisals from friends, the government will discover that they smoke dope, or they will get cavity-searched at the border. When, on the next morning, we sat down for breakfast at The Little Cheerful in downtown Bellingham, I struck up a conversation with a man in his 60s waiting for his to-go order. He told us he was searched twice at the airport in Phoenix when he wore a t-shirt with a photo of three Native American rebels and the words: Fighting terrorism since 1492. As he leaned over a mug of coffee, I noticed that he still wore the shirt. Soren Wuerth is perhaps Alaska's best known community activist. He resides in an undisclosed location in Southeast Alaska and can be reached at soren@insurgent49.com. |
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2005
Insurgent Media. All Rights
Reserved. in-sur-gent (in sur'jent), n. 1. a member of a group which revolts against the policies of its leadership. |
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