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The Mexican And I

Updated on November 2, 2017
Ericdierker profile image

Holding degrees in philosophy and Law. Formal studies or certificates or degrees in business, theology, insurance and security. Ex-preacher.

Is This Boy Less Than You?

His mom is an immigrant. No matter how she got here, does it matter?
His mom is an immigrant. No matter how she got here, does it matter? | Source

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

We should think about things not  just parrot things.
We should think about things not just parrot things. | Source

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.

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    • Ericdierker profile image
      Author

      Eric Dierker 7 months ago from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A.

      Dora isn't writing fun. I remember when my kids were in "playschools" or "Pre-School' and I was all in my Gucci suit and tie. I would recount stories to them like the little engine that could or Great Grandpa Bunny Bunny.

      Maybe story telling is becoming a lost art. But those kids bouncing on my knee and even the teachers enthralled is a gift from God. And wow were my children proud.

      And then I would suit and show up to weave a tail to a jury that was designed to elicit hate of love, depending.

    • MsDora profile image

      Dora Weithers 7 months ago from The Caribbean

      Well done, Eric. I like the mood of the storyteller. I like the details you include. Really good reading!

    • Ericdierker profile image
      Author

      Eric Dierker 7 months ago from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A.

      Thanks Bill I will over shortly to read the next in the series. That is a great tale to read.

    • lifegate profile image

      William Kovacic 7 months ago from Pleasant Gap, PA

      There you go, saying so much again under the guise of writing. I like your style in this one, Eric - a little different but effective. Thank you!

    • Ericdierker profile image
      Author

      Eric Dierker 7 months ago from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A.

      Thank you much Lori. I really respect your work and very much enjoy having you come by.

    • manatita44 profile image

      manatita44 7 months ago from london

      I really like the eloquence of that piece and I'm happy that some good friends here see it like I do. Simpler, more free-flowing and of course a very wholesome topic.

      I recited a piece last night and I got kissed by a man for my troubles. Lol. My piece is called, I am a Refugee, Tambien and it seemed to resonate with so many. I touched on the Red Indians too and you reminded me of my poem. Excellent work!!

    • lambservant profile image

      Lori Colbo 7 months ago from Pacific Northwest

      Beautiful story Eric.

    • Ericdierker profile image
      Author

      Eric Dierker 7 months ago from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A.

      Linda we were fluttering around. I laid down and told my wife about you. She asked if you loved me too. She then said that she was so glad that people read my writing and got it. Then she quoted a passage out of Mathew 25-31-46. We then together contemplated. Perhaps we should love simply because WE are simply the least of these.

    • Ericdierker profile image
      Author

      Eric Dierker 7 months ago from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A.

      Tim I just can't help. When you see each other from time to time from school to our 7/11 barriers drop out. I think they all think I am too old to have a young son.But maybe they have something to reconcile like me.

    • Ericdierker profile image
      Author

      Eric Dierker 7 months ago from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A.

      Dear friend Mel. I am sorry that this fell on my shoulders. I just assumed you were out around one of my favorite hamlets, Truth or Consequences.

      That that is just a segue. Because you have truth or consequences. If you let something interrupt your job to make your truth make us think you will suffer the consequence. You are not allowed the privilege to deprive us/me.

      I can get an investigator to find you and then come down and kick your wonderfully decorated mail uniform. Us boys from Flagstaff do that kind of thing.

      Bless you but you cannot hide!

    • Mel Carriere profile image

      Mel Carriere 7 months ago from San Diego California

      Your old bud checking in here. I hit a road bump and I have had trouble righting the blogging ship. First time I have touched this computer in weeks.

      You are not a child, but you write with a childlike simplicity that shows you have a pure soul. You drain your heart like draining a swamp, but the runoff smells sweet.

      Great stuff here, my friend. I don't know if I can get back to serious blogging or hubbing again, but I will try to at least check in time to time.

    • Carb Diva profile image

      Linda Lum 7 months ago from Washington State, USA

      Eric, this is the most beautiful thing you have ever written (and you have written a LOT my dear friend). I have tears in my eyes. Thank you for allowing us to see life through the eyes of another.

      Deep inside we aren't really that much different, are we? We all bleed the same blood and are loved by the same God.

    • tsmog profile image

      Tim Mitchell 7 months ago from Escondido, CA

      Definitely hits home for us at the border!

    • Ericdierker profile image
      Author

      Eric Dierker 7 months ago from Spring Valley, CA. U.S.A.

      Bill thank you. It is a bit of weaving from years.

    • billybuc profile image

      Bill Holland 7 months ago from Olympia, WA

      Simply beautiful...person to person..the way it was always meant to be, my friend.

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