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An Escape for Freedom: Leaving Mexico (a not so short story)
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Posted by twinkie Wed Jan 10, 2007 10:58:19 PST
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My sister and I got up robotically, shut off the TV, walked into our room and hid under the bed. It had become a routine for us, we had even learned to stick toys underneath because sometimes we had to stay under there for hours. Seconds later our father walked in, drunk as usual and throwing a fit. We heard our mother and father arguing and dishes rattled until father finished his meal then it was off to the bar. Sometimes he would return and sometimes he would find a place to spend the night, it varied and so did his moods. After he would leave mom would find us and hug us tightly oftentimes in tears. “I’m sorry,” she would mutter between sobs.

It wasn’t always like that, sometimes he would ask where we were and mom would come find us, when he asked for us we knew he was in a good mood so we would get out and knew exactly what to do, we would sit on his lap tell him we loved him, stroke his beard and tell him he was a great dad, sometimes he would even give us both money. When he was in a bad mood, which seemed to be more often that not, he wouldn’t even ask for us, almost as if in his mind, we didn’t exist.

I remember the day my baby sister didn’t hide in time. It had been a bad day at work for father and my sister didn’t have any shoes on. She got slapped so hard she stumbled back and hit up against the bookshelf, she fell to the floor and books started falling on her tiny face one by one. Apparently when you are drunk something like this if funny because dad started laughing hard. Mom held one of his hands whispering as seductively as she could for them to go into the other room taking advantage of his sudden change of mood. My sister pushed the books away with her little hand. She didn’t cry….NO, SHE COULDN’T CRY! If she cried it would only anger him and we knew not to EVER anger him! He agreed to walk into the other room and mom glanced back with a tear dripping down her cheek and whispered to me, “Take her…”

That was her way of saving us, by taking us away from his presence, by being around him as little as possible. As soon as they had left I picked her up. There was no time to ask if she was okay, or to hug her or for us to start crying. If at any moment he came back we had no idea what could happen and we both knew that. I helped her up and we knew to go two blocks down to a friends house where we would oftentimes visit and even spend the night, sometimes with no clothes or even shoes. There we were, a six and a four year old, no shoes, holding hands walking down the street with a quiet and serious expression. Our bodies were that of children but our minds and spirits had seen more and had been through more than countless years in a human life.

And thus was our life for what seemed a very long time.

Our mother worked really hard all day but only had schooling up to the third grade and no job experience. She hustled trying to make extra money mending outfits and delivering groceries. She didn’t have a car or know how to drive for that matter so she would walk, sometimes for miles coming home extremely exhausted. She would take off her worn and battered shoes and her blisters and calluses would become visible. Then she would hurry and make dinner, clean and helped me with what she could in doing my homework. My sister didn’t attend school yet her day was as exhausting. She would be lugged around in a small wire stroller all over town with mom. Once at home instead of playing with her doll, (an old, hand-me down Barbie we had received from a cousin) she would help mom with what she could, lugging dads boots from the living to their proper place, handing her things from the refrigerator and sweeping. I was only allowed to help after I finished my homework, but once I finished I helped with all my tiny might. Time was critical and quality was expected. If dad came home and found one thing out of place or if dinner wasn’t served and on the table mom would get pushed around, slapped and even get things thrown at her. Not us, usually we were out of sight by the time he got home.
 
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The night:
 
It was a winters night. I remember because the sun had already set and it was no later than seven o’clock. It had been a bad day at work and we got sent to bed early and without dinner. We must have been tired because all I can recall is being woken up by mom shaking us. I tried my best to force my body to get up but I was too exhausted, I remember taking a long yawn and stretching my entire body from my hands all the way down to the tip of my toes and when finished I saw moms left eye extremely red and puffy. I sat erect and frightened. I stared at her as I realized it was blood that was pouring down her arm. Then I suddenly realized she was clutching it and my little sister was already up and putting on her pants. “What…” I began.

“There is no time, do as I say!” she scorned. I had never heard mom talk to me in such a way. The sound of her voice sent chills down my spine. The adrenaline rush was so extreme it paralyzed me for a few seconds then, the same adrenaline was what helped me get up and act wisely and quickly. I felt my heart racing and though I had a million questions I didn’t dare ask even one. I remember looking in my sisters eyes and seeing a fear in her tiny face I wish I could forget. Her tiny bottom lip quivered as she slipped on her jacket and her beautifully formed chubby cheeks jiggled as they tried to keep up with her fast motions. Her hand came rushing through the arm of the jacket like a rocket and when it finally came through her tiny little fingers trembled as she tried to zip her jacket up.

“Let me do it.” I told her and quickly took over. Our eyes locked for a tiny, micro-second and quickly looked another way. We knew that if we took even a tiny moment everything that was happening would creep up and we would break down in tears. Something we knew there was no time for.

Once we were done mom came bursting through the door and handed us each a plastic grocery bag. “here,” she said, “put an extra pair of clothes, make sure you have underwear and socks, nothing else!” She warned.
We did as she said and waited quietly for her to return. We didn’t know what she was doing but we heard movement in the kitchen. We dared not stick our head through the door. Living in that house we had learned to never take chances on anything because it would turn out disastrous 99% of the time. We stood there perfectly still and I held my sisters hand as tight as I could trying to instill a tiny sense of security in her. Mom finally came through the door and grabbed my sister’s hand practically dragging her and told me to follow. We walked out through the back door and ran as fast as we all could, my mom carried my sister along with a plastic grocery bag of her own and I followed close behind. We ran and ran. It was late, it was cold and it was scary.

We came up to a small house with a truck in front which had the motor running. Mom walked up to a man who seemed as if he was waiting for us and talked with her for just a few moments. I saw her hand him something which he carefully inspected and then placed in his pocket. We then got thrown in the bed of the truck. Mom sat in the middle and we sat on either side of her. The man then threw a blanket at our feet and said, “you’re gonna need it!”

Mom quickly grabbed it and covered us with it. Sitting on the left side of mom I saw her eye, it almost completely shut with puffiness, dried blood and tears marked her cheeks. Her left arm was bleeding straight through the clothes she was wearing and she was clutching it hard. “mom…” I began.

“I’m okay mija,” she said. And that was the end of the conversation.
I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew we were being told to lie flat on the truck and not to move or say anything. The truck proceeded forward very, very slowly and underneath I could feel we were on rough terrain because we were bouncing around a lot. A few moments later we hear the men screaming, “OUT, OUT, OUT NOW, NOW NOW!!!”
Mom got up, threw the blanket off and helped us jump off the truck, she carried my little sister, looked down at me and said, “you have to run now mija, just run and run and never stop, never look back!”

It was extremely dark, the only light visible were those of the stars and a small speckle slightly bigger which was the moon. I ran as fast as I could leaving mom behind just as she had instructed me to, “follow the man,” she gasped. Suddenly I slowed down as I realized my feet were getting wet, the water had reached my knees and the man was leaving me far behind.

“Don’t stop…” mom had caught up to me and was treading water as hard as she could by lifting her knees up as high as possible. “we must keep going, you can do it, I know you can, my strong, beautiful girl… I know you can.”

Of coarse I could, for my mom I could do anything. I ran trusting that the water would never be higher than my height. All I had in my life which were true was trust in my mom and love. I ran and ran. When we finally reached dry land I could feel the wind piercing through my wet clothes like tiny little daggers. We kept running, I thought it would never end but we finally reached a dirt road where there was a black car waiting for us. We hopped in the back seat where there were two other people. My mom sat first, I sat on her lap and my sister squeezed in at our feet. Once we were all in the car drove slowly away then sped through until it hit a paved road and blended in with the other cars.

After that it was just driving. I didn’t know where we were going but I could tell we were out of immediate danger because my mom fell asleep. Wherever we were or wherever we were going I knew it was far away from my home and somehow I knew we weren’t going back. I kept thinking about my clothes and my toys. I thought about the homework assignment I tried so hard to complete, which I knew I would never turn in. I thought about my dad and even though living with him our family was in constant danger it still hurt a little bit that I would never see him again. I knew I would never see him again because I knew he would never make an effort to find us. I would be surprised if he even knew we were gone.
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The new place:
We shared the new place with another family and though mom paid what they asked of her in rent we were still treated like un-welcomed house guest. It wasn’t as easy as opening the refrigerator and pulling out a drink or laying on the living room floor to watch a bit of TV. We spent most of our time in our room which all three of us shared. We didn’t have a bed all we had was an old full sized mattress that plainly laid on the floor with a San Marcos blanket. The only thing we had was what we thrown in our plastic bag, which was just a couple of extra pairs of under wears and shorts so we had to wash every other day. Everything had to be hand washed in the bathtub so we had to make sure we asked everyone in the household if we could tie up the restroom for about half an hour, that was the worst part. We would hear murmurs of… “again?” and it would definitely make us uncomfortable. It was sure easy for them though, they owned a washing machine and they did their laundry once a week. I only imagined what it would be like to not have to ever wash clothes. Incredible how humans had invented a machine that did the washing for you. I could only dream of such a day we would own one, but seeing our life and the way it was…it didn’t seem it could ever be possible.

Mom had found a job working in the fields picking grapes. The weather was extremely hot and she would come home exhausted and filthy. She carpooled with the owner of the house who also worked there and had actually helped her get the job. All of a sudden mending clothes and walking miles seemed too simple compared to the work she had to do now. She spend hours on her knees trying to pick the lower grapes, vines would snap back and slap her right in the face and at times would poke her in they eye. She would come home and her eyes would be red. There was no time for rest. It was only her now and if she was ever going to get her family a good life then she had to continue making money. She got a second job cleaning houses after work and on Sunday. My sister and I hardly ever saw her during the day and when we would the twinkle which always shined in her eyes when she told us stories was gone. She was always tired and she seemed to be getting thinner. Her beautiful long her was now dull and hadn’t been trimmed in so long, when she finally went to have it cut she cut all the way to her shoulders. “it’s better,” she stated, “less of a hassle”. Mom loved her long her. She would tell us that it was a women’s beauty to have long her. Now… we just wanted to be able to eat without having anyone ask us if we had bought or taken it from their refrigerator.
 
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School:
I thought it would be easy to start school. I thought I would be able to make new friends and maybe not have to spend so much time in that tiny room. Yet, it seemed nobody wanted to talk to the girl who didn’t know any English and the teacher was an old white lady who didn’t know and didn’t care to know any Spanish. I would often times wander off during a lecture of instructions I just didn’t understand. The words would jumble up and there I went daydreaming about all the stuff I had left behind. Was it so bad being with dad? All these things shuffled through my head and oftentimes I couldn’t understand why mom made such a decision with consulting with us.

When I realized I was daydreaming the teacher would oftentimes be staring at me and scolding me things I just didn’t understand. I would look around at the kids who would be snickering. Sometimes I just sat there quietly and other times I would start crying. As the days progressed I understood small phrases, like “take your seats” or “can I go to the bathroom” that was a tough one… it cost me several bladder infections which my mom cured with cranberry juice. My grades were obviously terrible which my mom couldn’t understand why, she knew I was a very good student and would tell me to apply myself more. I knew more English words than her and to her that was a lot.

When I understood the assignment I was actually quite good, even the teacher would be impressed. Yet mostly it was incomplete assignments or assignments completed incorrectly. Even though there were a few students in the classroom which understood Spanish, no one wanted to hang out with the girl who everyone laughed at and who would ask the teacher if, “I cod go bafoom, plis?:” Have you ever been around people talking a different language then they laugh and you wonder if they just said something about you? Well that was my case everyday, only I know it really was about me. I oftentimes I cried but hid my tears. My mom couldn’t know how bad it was, I didn’t want to be the cause for more trouble and my sister was too young to understand.
 
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My little sister:
 
My little sister had to be babysat by a lady who already watched four other young kids. My sister was four and was potty trained but the lady would put pull ups on her because she didn’t want to bother with always having to stop what she was doing and taking her to the bathroom. She would cry and cry and hold it for as long as she could until she finally just went. It caused for several diaper rashes in a child of FOUR YEARS OLD! Mom wouldn’t say anything to the lady because if she didn’t watch her she would have no job, even though my sisters pain caused my mom so much suffering. The lady had one child of her own who was two years old and would get everything she wanted and when she slapped my little sister because she wouldn’t give her a cookie my sister slapped back. She got punished for the entire day and was not allowed out of the room. She would always cry and plead mom not to take her to that awful place, yet day after day she had to return. I could see the frustration on mom’s face and also the hurt as she too didn’t want her to go there.

Everything in our life was falling apart and though mom told us we were here to do better it was all actually worse. Yet she would tell us that one day all our hard work would pay off and all the suffering we went through would be compensated with great rewards which we would have earned throughout the years. Her favorite saying, “you get what you deserve, if you work hard and keep a compassionate heart you will deserve a lot, but what will you deserve if you are lazy and always want to start from the top?”
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As time progressed:
 
Over the years things definitely got better and all of our suffering was paying off. Mom met a really nice lady at work and they rented a house together. They shared everything and it finally felt like our own place. My sister and I shared a room and mom had her own. We had bunk beds and a fully stocked refrigerator. The lady had a daughter of her own which was my age and we got along very well. We walked to school together and she helped me understand the assignments, it wasn’t long that I was talking great English with just a small accent. My grades finally reflected my true work and mom was ecstatic when I came home with a B instead of an F or D.

She found another babysitter and even my little sister started making friends when she entered Kindergarten. I made sure I taught her as much English as she could and it she caught on very quickly. As time went by we finally realized we were a nice quaint family of three.

In Mexico we had no chance of college, we had no chance of ever owning our own home, we lived in fear for our lives and our future was pre destined which involved getting married at a young age just so we could leave the house. Yet, eventually becoming a stay at home mom with no education and long hair which we would wear in two long braids so we could help fight the heat. We would be taking the bus because the taxi’s were too expensive and never even dreaming of driving a car especially not by the age of 16, like so many do here.

Here, we learned there was not only a possibility of going to college but a possibility at a life that belonged to us. I had never imagined a country that actually cared that their citizens were educated. That actually cared about controlling poverty by helping its citizens buy food and caring about their health by aiding with medical insurance.
The first year we lived here was definitely the hardest but at least it was full of hope. Hope for a better life. That was all we wanted.
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The later years:
 
Junior high definitely brought forth its own challenges. Everyone seemed to want to impress each other with what they wore and here I was wearing clothes from the Family Bargain Center and Kmart. Girls were wearing cute eye shadows and lip gloss which their moms had bought for them and I was wearing cherry flavored chap stick, which I had bought myself at the 99 cent store. “are your lips chapped, mija? Just use Vaseline, it works better” mom said the day I bought it. I thought she wouldn’t understand what I was going through.

My favorite subject was American History. I loved learning about a country that was founded by people escaping their own country in search for hope, in search for freedom, in search for a better life. I believed then that is why they help by providing scholarships and food stamps and medical, because it’s a huge country of refugees running from tyranny.
I almost imagined America being a mom who held her hands wide open ready to hug a battered son or daughter who had just escaped from a life of a threatening country. And in the arms of Mother America the son or daughter suddenly realizes its hopes and dreams have now been a reality which can be earned through hard work.

Its entire population is people who have worked extremely hard to be at a place they are now. I thought a lot about my family and how we did what we had to do to get here just like in American history. I loved learning about the Declaration of Independence. It was an independence from tyranny, independence from having to live in fear, independence and freedom to pursue your own life.

Independence does not mean easiness. Once they became independent many wars broke out and terrible tribulations followed yet people always had hope because they knew that life in America, no matter how hard it seemed at the time, meant hope for a better life. That is all our ancestors wanted for their families. That is the gift they left behind for us.
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Present day:
 
I am grown and married now and no matter how hard my life seems I know it has come a long way. I don’t easily take things for granted and I live life knowing everything that mom had to suffer through in order for her two daughters to just have a chance at life. I can picture my life and where it would be had we stayed in Mexico and it would not have been half as great. The suffering would have carried through on to adult life and my little sister’s chance at college would have been yanked away.
She is in her second year at Fresno State. Mom and I are very proud.
I cant believe what I hear when people talk about immigrants. Have they forgotten what our country has been through in order to give us the life we have today? Have they forgotten the wars that were fought and the blood that was shed in order for us to have a chance at a good life? If we forget now then all of the suffering would have been for nothing and all of the people that died, died in vain. If we forget why people suffered and traveled here with no clothes or money searching for hope then it was all for nothing. What would they say now if they knew what was going on? Would they say, “I am glad we made it in before they closed the gates?” or would they say, “you are the kind of people we ran away from, YOU are the exact kind of people we had to fight against in order for our kids to have a chance at life!”

With everything they went through in order to establish a country of hope and opportunity “by the people, of the people and for the people” then my guess is they would not throw out the people who are willing to work for and fight for life, because American citizenship should not be based on where you were born but on hard work, loyalty and a true understanding of life, love and happiness.
This is the story of my life and it is possible because of the American Ancestry.

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Comment From: theraven

awesome story twinkie...truly! Comment From: twinkie

thank you. Somebody emailed it to me a long time ago. I thought they did a really good job so I posted it. Hey wait a minute, RAVEN.... wasn't it .... YOU? hahahaha gosh I'm such a good writer-by-cut-and-paste! hahah Comment From: Kindra79

This is a wonderful story, bitter and sweet. Reminds me of the man who came by the first day of my yard sale. He told me with a thick accent about how he worked so hard, about how proud he was of what he had accomplished, and how he gives everything to his children. That they ask why he doesn't by new clothing, to which he replies "Why? I can buy these pants for a dollar, and they are just as good. I pay for your car, your school, and help with a house. My money is for you" Comment From: JulieJordanScott

I so enjoyed reading this today - don't know what took me so long to get here... I am just so glad that I did! Comment From: btownbobby

That is an amazing story Twinkie, be very proud of who you are and never forget it. I have a very similar story but I never had to leave my country. These horrible things are what made you who you are. I am glad to know you.