The Interception

It was a hot day last summer. I can't remember now whether I heard any sirens, but when I look out of the window, I see an RCMP vehicle, lights flashing, parked at the side of the road behind an old minivan, right in front of our house on the opposite side. An RCMP officer steps out and leisurely goes up to the minivan. They're never in a hurry, they're in control of the situation. He talks to the driver, window rolled down. Then he asks the 4 or 5 men, I don't remember their exact number anymore, to step out of the van.

They talk more. The RCMP officer goes back to his car. The men wait in the heat. After a while, a second RCMP vehicle will arrive, later an unmarked third one. More talking, between the officers, and the officers and the men, mostly their driver. More waiting.

I'm in the house, witnessing all this. Not sure whether I should intervene, and how? What can I do in this situation? Can I be of help to the men who've been stopped? I wonder whether they were attempting to get to the US? As is well known by now, the number of irregular border crossings to the US has gone up, with traffickers often involved, while comparatively very few refugees now try to cross the other way into Canada. But I have no way of knowing. And I don't need to know. The fact is, the men who have been caught must be in distress, afraid. I decide to focus on that.

So I step out and make my way to the RCMP car. I ask what is happening, even though I know that the officer is not going to tell me anything. Can I do anything to help, I ask, maybe bring some water for the officer and the men? He says they have water, and he does, too. He tells me not to worry, that we are safe. Little does he know that I'm not at all worried about my own safety, I am concerned about the men who have just been intercepted. But I feel powerless to do anything more, so I go back to the house.

After a while, the men are allowed back into the van. After much back and forth between the now three or four RCMP officers, as well as the driver in the van, and much waiting in between, the two cars that arrived later take off. The minivan also drives off. Finally, the original RCMP vehicle leaves.

In this rural location at two kilometers from the border, where nothing much ever happens, the scene I witnessed feels almost unreal. And yet, the human suffering is real, and the power the RCMP officers have to change the course of these men's lives to the worse is very real, too. As real as my lack of power, except to make a caring gesture in offering help and water.

We could not do much during our visits at Roxham Road when it was still open. But we knew our presence there, and our small gestures of offering water in the summer and hats, scarves and mittens in the winter, made a difference to many. So I can only hope that my friendly offering of help maybe touched those men, even though I wasn't even able to interact with them directly.

Hope