In line, in class, and in memory

Good morning! Mission Local tries to keep on top of the biggest citywide news. We also pay attention to stories about San Franciscans whose experiences can be overlooked.

That line of tents and camping chairs set up all night on Laguna Street off Geary? It’s people waiting for one of 100-150 tickets handed out each morning for visa applications at the Chinese consulate. And since applications can only be made in person, those needing to travel to China for business or family emergencies must get in line early, or hire an agent to wait for them.

Most line-waiters are well-equipped with snacks, layers of clothes, and thermoses of hot water––but it’s a long cold night, often starting as early as 6:30p.m. The line is self-regulating, though fights over line-jumping sometimes break out around sunrise. Agents like Alix Wong, who can each submit two applications, often play the role of referees, handing out handwritten papers with a number corresponding to a person’s place in line. “We agents maintain the order,” says Wong. Visa applicants say the line outside is almost more organized than the process within the consulate.

Over at the Mission Campus of City College, students are also wrapped in layers: There’s been no heat in the building for years, and the boilers are broken. Currently, Mission, John Adams in the Panhandle, and Ocean Campus are all without heat. In response, the college’s administration has provided each classroom with a space heater and one packet of hand warmers.

In an attempt to get help, teachers and union members have started posting temperature logs outside rooms. One log reported a Mission classroom at 42 degrees. “This weather is not great,” says Cristian Martinez, a political science student who takes an evening class at Mission. “You’re breathing and you can see the [condensation.] It’s like, are we outside?”

There is no timeline for repair, but City College Board of Trustees President Alan Wong said the board will vote soon on a contracting bid to fix the boilers and pipes. Meanwhile students, most of them working people of color, trudge to class bundled in heavy jackets and lugging blankets. “I’ve seen no research,” says labor instructor Fred Glass, “that a brain freeze is conducive to a quality education.”

And on a recent cold evening, a small crowd gathered on Capp Street for a traditional ceremony honoring the life of Jesus Adolfo Delgado, a Mission teenager killed by San Francisco police five years ago. “The pain is still there,” his brother Victor Torres said softly. Ivan Corado-Vega, who had been a mentor of Delgado’s at the Mission Boys and Girls Club, said, “SFPD moves on, politics move on, and we’re left to pick up the fractured pieces of the family.”

Delgado, 19, was shot at by multiple officers approximately 99 times following an alleged armed robbery. Every year, Delgado’s family, friends, and supporters convene to honor the young man’s life, decorating his sidewalk altar with flowers, candles, spray cans, and a portrait of him speaking at graduation. “We keep his name alive,” said Torres, “so people don’t forget what happened.”

Thank you for paying attention,

Sara