The Mexican And I
Is This Boy Less Than You?
Can We Just Stop With Notions Of People Not Being People?
I do hope you do not mind but this is in American English. I cannot write so my friend who lived down there is translate/interpreting for me. He tells me that interpreting is an art where translation is more social science. I am from Rosarito. My friend met me there. One time he took me across the border in his trunk.
But let us get on with my story and that of my wife and kids. It seems that I crawled about half a mile and slid under a fence. I just put my head down and barely winced at the cactus thorns that cut me like knifes. I am a criminal. I accept that. And I understand that a man with more money hires a coyote to get him across the border, and maybe up a ways to wine country where the wages are higher. I ended up in a place called Indio, next door to Palm Springs. Most of us lived in old army barracks and formed a system to get us jobs. Picking cotton was my job. But making enough money to get my wife and children with me was the real job.
Dios is a bit different than God. It is a bit more personal. In my ejido we did not worship we were just children. I found out that Norte Americanos did a different thing. Our group just did some praying together on Sunday before we hit the fields.
I heard a man talk about hell. It was interesting. Maybe I did not understand. 110 degrees picking stuff bent over in the sun kind of seemed to be what he was talking about. With good favor from my Dios I would survive.
I lived in a canyon with others. We scrimped enough from the fields to make a soup every night. Almost no meat or eggs or even rice and frijoles. But the overlord let us take some fruit up to the highway to sell for money enough to exchange for food and other stuff.
I never met a man in those times that complained. We all went into town every week to send money back home. A dollar would mean much there. And maybe a day without real food was not too much to sacrifice. I just dreamed of my 6 year old having shoes to wear.
Many people do not understand about life in a ditch. They just look at the poverty. They do not get the majesty. We are quite poor but God provides as at night we lay there and see all the heavens and stars that folks with roofs do not see. Maybe we see a wild pig or maybe a skunk or squirrels. Three men stand watch at night – just 3 hour shifts. And we rotate. Our ladies are placed inside our circle and only coals glow at night for warmth.
I Like This One Also By My Great Son
Es Verdad mi amigo
In Any Language
Just People Doing The Best They Can
I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be a Norte Americano. I have heard that even the illiterate can get a job good enough to bring their families north. But I have not met one. A messenger comes by about once a week and he takes letters home for a price. And some of us have literate spouses who write us. I am blessed as my children attend a school paid for by Americans and Catholic. I could just dream of school.
It is often thought, at least as the newspapers say it that we are abused by American Federalies. I wonder how they got that idea. In our area they come by and patrol so we are safe. We know some by name and them us. I would fear gangs if they were not near us. It is incredible how tough and brave they are.
Great new from home. My spouse got a job in a maquiladoras. Just 12 hour shifts and Grandma watches the kids. How exciting as she will make more than 10 dollars a day. I thank God for the blessings.
A bad case showed up in the middle of the night. He made it here but not without a coyote stabbing him and taking his small amount of money. Not to worry much we have sages that can patch up and cure. Four days in my blankets and he will be fine. But the cost of good food and medical supplies is a strain on our group budget. And it was not fun sleeping with another guy. At least we were warm.
I suppose I should complain. But why? I am alive and my family is fine. I walked into town and got a side job painting. I feel so bad as I spent the money on beer. But once every six months does not seem so bad. I think my wife would laugh at me. And besides I got two Carne Asada burritos and we split them up four ways.
I Spent Time Here Outside of Da Nang. And Veterans Day Is Close
Please Stop Watching TV And Walk Around Your Block
The man who writes this for me showed up with 5 blankets 5 gallons of water and 5 ten dollar bills. He is not the sort that asks for thanks from us or his God. He brings his son who carries half the load. They sit around the campfire with us. They just seem as comfortable as can be. The man preaches to us. But not of hellfire and condemnation. He preaches Buenos Noticias, that we need so badly.
We hear stuff about a change and that we will be persecuted by a new government. Maybe. We say Vaya Con Dios.
It has seemed true to me that we are Americans. We do not commit crimes. We take care of our own. We hurt no one. We work hard. We even pay taxes with our earned money and a sales tax as required. I think we are a good.
I think that some worry about us. Bad treatment. Poverty. And they could not be more wrong. We have this thing that makes us special. It is hard to translate into English. The word is esperanza. Some try to make it simple and just say it means “hope”. But it is more like three things. Love, hope and a dream. I explained this to the man’s son and the man cried and hugged me. Our eyes met and we were brothers. We were more than that. We both gave each other without expectations of return. It is not an issue that good folks come here to live better.
From the interpreter: Politics are tough. I will let them there chips fall as they may. I only can do my own gig. That gig is person to person. Oh maybe there is a huge crisis. But not for me. There are just people who can benefit from what little I can offer. But I am grateful that I can share this with you.