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That night I heard different stories. The scari
est were about cholos, which are the gangs on
the border. Most of them at that time were bald
boys wearing big clothes as if they were fat at
another time and lost a lot of weight. They wore
their big clothes with tattoos all over their bod
ies. There were usually a lot of them, and they
had guns. One man in the room said, "You must
do whatever they say and not resist or you will
get killed, or if you are lucky, they will just beat
you up very badly. Maybe you will be hospital
ized." He continued, "One time they stopped our
group. They raped the women in front of us and
killed a guy just because he did not bring money
with him. They took our
clothes and tore them apart
to see if we had money
hidden, even our shoes. We
were broke. At the time, no
one said anything, because
you knew if you reported to
the authorities they would
ask you many questions. For
sure you would go to prison
and maybe they would press charges on you one
way or another. It was better to keep quiet." He
told more stories. He walked with a limp, and
said that when he was jumping a fence he broke
his leg, and showed us the scar from that.
Later that night, the coyote came for us. We
took a taxi. Outside of the hotel the group tried
to be fast and quiet, because across the street
there was a police truck, full of the judiciales.
They are the most corrupt, biggest assholes you
can imagine. They had with them modrinas.
These are not judiciales; they are civilians, but
they carry guns and badges.
The taxi drove us for 10 minutes and we paid
two bucks each. He took us to a horse corral. We
walked into a small alley and up to a white fence
with big steel bars. Then this little guy showed
us how to climb up to the top, putting our
feet between the bars just like Spider-man. We
jumped over it to the other side and ran as fast
as we could until we were in the bushes on the
other side. Here we were in the United States....
LAND OF DREAMS?
I did not know why people had said this was
"The Land of Dreams." I felt the soil and the air-
they were the same. Everything was the same. We
hid for a few minutes. We waited and then we
ran to the forest one by one, bending down and
running as fast as we could. It took some time,
but as soon we got to the other side, the whole
group started to walk.
We walked a mile or more, when suddenly a
border patrol van appeared in front of us with
its lights pointing at us. We dropped down and
waited, but no one came out
of the van. I saw someone
standing up, running and
saying "wait here," but I just
followed him, standing up and
running. We all did the same.
Afterward, he said "run that
way," pointing forward. I followed him, knowing
that if I kept near him I would survive. We ran
very fast, for how long I do not know.
I was out of breath. I felt like something
would explode inside me. I thought, "I will not
make it" And then we stopped, the guide climb
ing a tree to survey the area. He said, "We lost
them," but deep down we knew somehow they
were watching us. We lay on the ground. I felt
stickers all over my body and realized that we
were in thorns. But we could not move: we had
to just wait and see if they were following us.
Nothing happened for a long time.
Then the guy in the tree said they were there,
as if they had been watching us all along. The
van turned on its lights and drove at high speed
to one side of the road and then to the other
not far from us. I can't remember now, but it
was close enough. The guide said, "Do not move,
everybody wait here." (There were two smug
glers, the coyote and the guide.) They said, "Do
not move from here. We will see if it is safe to
Keep moving," and they left us in the middle of
nowhere, with nothing to do, just feeling those
thorns all over. Wherever I moved, the thorns
were waiting to stick me, until I learned: I had
to try not to move, and stay in the same position
for a long, long time. The night was dark with a
beautiful moon overhead. It was pleasant to see
that moon until you had to change positions.
The pain was constant. I don't know how long we
were there, but it was hours until they returned
for us. For a while, I thought they would leave
us there.
When they returned for us, we continued to
walk miles and miles. The next moment I thought
we were near a penitentiary with big walls and
barbed wire on top. It was all along this wall we
had to walk. I felt like nothing of what we went
through was real It was
just like a movie. And it
was dark. We walked across
what appeared to be a small
ditch, into the town of
Douglas, Arizona.
At one street, we waited
and then ran again as fast
as we could. When we en
tered the street, someone
screamed from a window something like "Go
home" in Spanish. I remember that I understood
that. The others did not catch it. We ran for
like 20 minutes from one street to another until
we found an empty house nobody lived in. The
coyote opened the door and told us, "Wait here,
someone will pick you all up in the morning. Do
not fall asleep. Don't talk; do not open the door
or go outside." ("For what?" I asked myself. "To
go to the store?")
CAUGHT
Then he left and we put boards across the
door. We started to talk a little and very low.
Some of us started to fall asleep. Then the others
did. We woke them up though everyone kept fall-'
ing asleep. I remember I just closed my eyes and
then I heard voices, saying "It's very quiet here.
You need water?"
The immigration police were outside but
they were talking to us, and we heard thrr.i
through the walls. I woke up at that moment.
Someone knocked on the door. We remained si
lent. Suddenly they kicked the door. It fell across
the person seated next to the door, breaking his
nose. They entered the room quickly.
It was the INS. I was expecting they'd put
our faces down on the floor and handcuff us
with our hands behind our back'. But no. They
took us outside. There were vans waiting for us.
They started to ask questions one by onfe. "Como
te llamas? What's your name?" The person ask
ing questions took out my wallet and started
to take out everything. I was waiting for her to
start throwing away everything in my wallet, my
family and friend's telephone
numbers, but no.
They were making fun of
us. She started to loudly read
the names. "Here is Carol and
she doesn't have an email,"
she read, with a big smile on
her face. They identified a 16-year-old boy who
was a boy in this country but was the man of the
family. That was the reason he came looking for
a job here. So they asked, "Who came with you?"
He said, "I'm on my own." And they said, "That
is not good. You need someone to take care of
you." And they looked at us, asking "Who wants
to be his uncle?"
Nobody answered the question. And then they
said, "You need someone, otherwise you have to
wait until an adult asks to take care of you." At
the time I thought, "These are good intentions."
But then I realized that if nobody took respon
sibility for him they would have to keep him,
giving him a room and food. To the guy whose
nose they broke, they said, "Sign for him as his
uncle." Then they asked if he wanted to go to
the hospital and then to jail, or did he just want
go sign his voluntary deportation (or something
like that; it was long time ago and I do not re
member the details).
That afternoon, I was back in Agua Prieta, in
Mexico, hungry and very tired.
To be continued...
I did not know why people
had said this was “The Land
of Dreams." I felt the soil and
the air; they were the same.
Everythingms the same.
I felt like nothing of what
we went through was real.
It was just like a movie.
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