by Kate Banco
“Hijo, where are they taking your Papá?” Abuelita asks with a handkerchief covering her nose to try to breathe better air.
“They say Calexico, we need to make sure we all end up in Calexico.”
I turn and yell to Papá before he gets on the truck, “Papá, stay in Calexico until we get there. We’ll come and find you.”
I’m not sure he hears me but hope someone did and will relay the message. The door to the trailer is closed up which leaves very little air for the occupants. I hope they can survive the trip. Calexico is far away.
The semi starts up and fumes fill the warehouse. Many people left in the cage start to cough, the children turn their faces to hide in their mother’s arms.
As the semi leaves another van pulls in. It looks like a small city bus with tall seats next to big windows. I hope the families will be able to travel in more comfort.
The guard starts to call more numbers. Abuelita looks like she will cry when they shout out her number. “Hijo, we all have to go together. I can’t go alone, how will I find you?” She cries.
“Abuelita, we all need to get to Calexico and wait for the rest to show up. I’m not sure how we will do that but it’s all we have. Go in the bus, it looks comfortable. It looks like they are calling all the abuelas and abuelos. Maybe they want to treat you with more respect. Go ahead, don’t worry, I’ll watch over Memo. I don’t think they will separate us,” I say without believing it myself.
I am as worried as she is that they will separate Memo and me, but I can’t let her see my fear. If she goes with the other abuelos it may be a more comfortable trip.
She gives both of us a big hug and a kiss on the cheek and says, “Que Dios les bendiga. May God Bless.”
We both wave good bye to her as she follows the others onto the small bus. I hope this is for the best; maybe they have air conditioning on the bus.
They all wave to the rest of the occupants of the cage. I look around and see that the rest of us are all minors, from babies to my age. Older siblings hold crying babies. The younger children look at each other with searching eyes. They all look so lost. They didn’t ask to end up here, they didn’t know they would be separated from their parents. How will they ever believe anyone ever again?
Chapter 16
La Frontera
We all look to find a seat on the wooden benches. None of us know what to expect or how we will survive this nightmare. Our parents or grandparents brought us here with the hope of finding a better life. Now they are gone and we don’t have a clue what will happen. A lot of the children are younger than I am but are holding the hands of toddlers and babies. How can they protect their hermanitos? They are babies themselves. The crying and whining continues. Memo sits close to me and won’t let go of my hand.
“Ricardo, ¿Qué va a pasar?” He cries.
“I don’t know, but don’t worry. We’ll be okay. Stay close to me,” I whisper.
I hear the guards say something about ‘los abuelos’ and I try to listen. I hear the words Tecate centro and bus station. They can’t do that, does it mean they won’t cross them over the border? Will they drop them at the bus station or downtown? My abuelita doesn’t have money, what will she do? She can call her other son in Lazaro Cardenas and he can send money or come and get her. But what will she do until he gets here? She won’t know where to go for help or what to do. A deep sadness overwhelms me and the tears roll down my cheeks. Memo looks at me and starts crying too. He doesn’t ask any questions he knows I don’t have the answers. We huddle together and wait for the next van or semi to come through the door.
It’s not long before the door opens again and two windowless vans drive in. I hear a guard say something about Texas. How can they take us to Texas? Papá is in Calexico if he’s lucky, Abuelita in Tecate and now we are going to Texas. Why would they send us to Texas, I want to ask but don’t dare. If I cause problems or ask questions they might put Memo in a different van. I need to keep quiet so we can stay together.
“Okay, get your things and wait for us to call your numbers,” the guard yells. I look around and see everyone pull their younger hermanitos closer. We all worry they will separate us from younger siblings.
I watch as they call the other numbers and it looks like they are keeping sibling groups together. I wait for them to call our numbers and they place us in the second van. Memo and I run to get our places in the van. If we are the last we might have to push our way in to get a seat on the floor. We find a place on the floor of the van leaning against the wall. Others that come after us squeeze in to the only space left. The older children hold the babies on their laps. The crying continues and no one says a thing. They know the babies are hungry, they need water, want dry diapers, but no one has given us any water bottles or supplies. They load us in the back and the van doors close.
The van backs up, and it is the beginning of a nightmare ride. I calculate in my head that Texas must be at least a day’s drive. If I remember my geography we will need to go through Arizona and New Mexico before even entering Texas. Who knows where Brownsville is, it could be all the way across the state of Texas.
I hear others introduce themselves. When it is our turn Memo says, “This is my brother Ricardo and I’m Memo.”
He learns fast and maybe that’s good, I have a feeling we will need to adapt to a lot of difficult situations. We all try to help each other out but know our situation is bad. Our clothes are wet with sweat and some have peed their pants. It isn’t a pleasant smell inside the van. Very few people have water bottles. I pull the liter bottle from my pack and give Memo a drink, then other it to the other younger kids. If we are going to survive, we will need to share. Some others say they have some water and will share theirs later.
I try to rest my head against the wall of the van. I can feel the heat from the metal sides and decide I’ll need to sit up as much as possible.
A young girl about my age starts talking to everyone. Her idea is that we take turns sleeping. If some of the older ones keep the group of younger ones busy, the others can sleep. “I haven’t slept in 24 hours. If I don’t sleep I won’t be able to take care of my sister. Can someone watch over my sister while she sleeps? I need to sleep,” she says.
“I can watch her,” I offer. “My brother is asleep too. You go ahead and try to sleep. There is no way I can sleep right now.”
“Gracias, me llamo Adriana. ¿Cómo te llamas?” She asks.
“My name is Ricardo. Nice to meet you Adriana. Go to sleep and rest. I’ll make sure nothing happens to your hermana What is her name?”
“Rosa, se llama Rosa. Gracias,” She says and closes her eyes.
I look at Rosa and estimate she is about the same age as Memo. Maybe we can help each other throughout the trip. Watching out for the younger ones may help distract us from our terror. I know the others are as terrified as I am.
The van rattles and shakes as we exit what feels like a highway, we are pulling off for some reason. Only about two hours have gone by, I don’t think we can be stopping already. The van tosses us around and everyone wakes up. Dust rolls in through the cracks in the side. Everyone starts coughing and we all try to hang on We roll to a stop and the driver jumps out.
We can’t see what he is doing or where he is, a few minutes go by before anyone says anything. An older boy says, “Do you think they abandoned us? Did he leave us along the side of a road?”
We start to worry and try to look out of the van. Adriana stands up and tries to look out of the front to see through the windshield. We hear another vehicle stop and people talking. Then the car pulls away.
“I think he got in that car and left us here,” Adriana says. “I’m going to try to climb in to the front seat to see where we are.” Before anyone can stop her, she hoisted herself over the barrier and drops in to the from seat. Adriana opens the door and looks out, she steps out of the van
and runs around to open the back door. We all cheer and hurry to get out of the hot van only to find the desert sun is even hotter.
Some run to the bushes to relieve themselves; others stretch their legs and walk a little. The children start to run around. A water bottle passes around and everyone takes a small drink. No one has any food and everyone is hungry
“We should stay close to the van, we don’t want anyone to get lost or hurt. Everyone needs to get their younger hermanitos and make sure they stay close.”
“Who made you boss?” A young boy says.
“I’m not boss, it’s just an idea.”
“Just don’t tell me what to do, okay?” He snaps.
“Okay, don’t worry,” I answer.
Everyone gathers their younger siblings and keeps them nearby. We all watch as we see a cloud of dust appear. There is nowhere for us to hide, we don’t have food or water so we wait by the van. Out of the cloud of dust, we see two vehicles, one US Border Patrol, the other ICE.
Are we in the States? Did we cross the border? Why would they be here? We must be in California or Arizona. I don’t think we drove long enough to be in Arizona. What is going to happen now?
The vehicles pull up and officers jump out with guns drawn. We all move closer together and we try to hide the younger ones from the view of the guns. “I’m Officer Hernandez. Put your hands up!” he yells.
“Cool it, Hernandez. They’re only kids. Give them a break. Someone left them here. Get the water and snacks from the truck, hurry up,” A female guard says.
Hernandez holsters his gun and walks to the back of the pickup. He opens the door and pulls out Costco cases of water. He opens the case with a pocket knife and starts throwing them in the air. “Here you go, water.”
The younger children laugh and run for the bottles of water. The older ones realize how mean he is and we take our time to get closer.
Some catch the water bottles mid-air, others wait for them to drop and pick them up. We empty the bottles in no time and we turn to get more.
“Nope, no more. Have to save them for others we find in the desert,” Hernandez says as he closes the truck.
The female officer hands out granola bars to everyone. She brings out a cooler with baby food for the younger ones. Out of the cooler, she takes some baby bottles and places them in a thermos to warm. She looks around to count the babies and warms up five bottles. Everyone is thankful for the water and snack. More than anything we are grateful for the bottles for the babies. Another officer takes a box of pampers and starts passing a handful of diapers for each child. At this point, it is easier to clean the babies up and leave them in only diapers. Their clothes are either wet or dirty, it’s hot and they won’t get cold out here in the desert.
Now I see the female officer instruct Hernandez to open the doors of the pickup again. She is helping unload more water bottles and food. This time coolers come out and there are sandwiches and fruit for us. We walk around with a sandwich in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Even the little ones try to do the same, although not all can manage it.
“Better fill up, you won’t be eating or drinking for a while,” Hernandez says.
“What are you saying? Hernandez. Stop trying to scare them,” the female officer snarls.
“Just telling the truth and you know it,” he answers.
“Well they might do better than the last group, you never know. Sometimes miracles happen,” she says.
“Wait to those guys behind us in the ICE vehicles get them. They’ll be on their way to a detention center in Texas and you know it,” he says with a smile.
“Well, give them their fifteen minutes of no hunger and no thirst. We are here with emergency supplies. Let them have that before ICE starts processing them.”
One of the other kids in the van understands some English and heard what they said. He started telling everyone ICE was going to take us in to detention. We all passed the info from one to the other. We didn’t know what consequence it would have or what we could do to stop it. The border patrol officers packed up the garbage. The dirty diapers and empty water bottles are all stuffed in black garbage bags. They put it all in the back of the pick up. Then they got in their pick up and drove away.
Now what, we all stood watching the ICE van parked down the dirt road. It was as if they were waiting for Border Patrol to leave before they would come near us. Some whispered they thought we should run into the desert, but the older ones talked them out of it.
We waited about fifteen minutes in the hot sun. We all watched the ICE van and tried to figure out what they wanted with us; we are just kids. What would they want with us?
Another van rolled up behind the first one. Now it makes sense. They were waiting for another van to transport us all. The two vans drive closer to us, some of the small children jump into our van and try to hide. They don’t even know what they are hiding from.
The vans pull up and the ICE agents push us into them without asking any questions.
Chapter 17
La Frontera
The ICE vehicles are in much better condition than our last transport. Each child has a leather seat with seat belt. The smaller children enjoy testing out the seats and reclining them. The older siblings try to keep the younger ones in line but also enjoy the air conditioning and comfort. The small darkened windows keep out the sun, but we can see the landscape around us. We are still in the desert on a dirt road and there is lots of dust. Ahead I see an airfield. Are we in the United States or are we still in Mexico? If the Border Patrol fed us and helped us clean up the babies, we must be in the United States. If ICE picked us up we must be in the States, but it looks so much like the Mexican desert. If I didn’t know better I would think we are still in the desert near Tecate.
I see a small airplane take off and rise above us. How will we ever get back to Calexico? If they put us on an airplane, we will never get back to Papá or Abuelita.
The airplanes excite all the children. Many of us have never been inside an airplane in our lives and this is exciting for us. I forget about the mess we are in. I’ve always wanted to travel on an airplane and go on a vacation. At this moment I hope we get to go on a flight somewhere.
Everyone in the van quiets down when they see the landing strip in front of us. Behind is a terminal. Parked in front of the building is a large unmarked plane. Is it possible they’ll take us to Texas on that airplane? It would be more comfortable than in the back of a van. I need to stop my excitement and think about how difficult it will be to get back to Calexico if we fly to Texas.
The vans pull up near the large warehouse-type building. We stop in front of a long, white trailer. The door from the van opens up to the ramp that leads into the trailer. The guards tell us to exit the van and go into the trailer. When we enter we see two large tables in front of us with towels, soap and shampoo. Near the end of the table, there are toothbrushes and toothpaste.
“Girls line up here on this side and boys on the other side. If your younger siblings need to be with you keep them for now. Take a towel, soap and shampoo. Go through the door to the showers. Take off all your clothes and place them in the garbage. We will give you clothes after your shower. Any questions?” The guard says in Spanish.
“Also, throw away any bags you have with you,” another guard says.
I look at Memo. He doesn’t understand anything about what is happening. He will have to throw away his Spiderman toy. This isn’t going to be easy. We need to hide it, and I need to hide Mamá’s picture.
I watch as the girls walk through the right-hand side door. They all look terrified and cling together in small groups. The boys are as terrified as the girls but try to look like they aren’t.
It’s our turn and I grab two of everything for Memo and me. I hand him shampoo and soap to carry. I carry the towels as we pass through the left-hand side
door. Inside are showers lining the walls. It is an open shower with no privacy.
“No quiero,” shouts Memo when he sees all the others have stripped down and left their clothes in a pile.
“We have to Memo. Look everyone else is and no one is going to look. Take off your clothes and put them in a pile on the floor. Make sure to hide Spiderman in your towel or someone might take it,” I say.
Since he is distracted with the thought of someone trying to take his Spiderman, he forgets about the other naked boys in the shower. He takes off his shirt and then slips out of his shorts and underwear. He runs over to the shower to get his hair wet. I do the same, but make sure the picture of Mamá is hidden with Spiderman. We grab soap and shampoo and wash. It’s been quite a few days since we’ve been able to wash or clean our clothes. It’s a relief to be clean. We spend as much time in the shower as possible. No one wants to go back outside where it is so hot. The thought of putting clothes back on and getting back in a van makes us want to play in the water all day.
The guards come in and start to tell us to hurry up,“Enough now, get your towels and dry off. Go out to the other room to get dressed. Throw all of your things in this garbage bin,” he encourages us.
Many of the boys start to throw their things away and then start taking things out of their pockets like rosary beads, pictures, change, money and toys. I don’t know how they think we can all throw away the few things we have left. We stand with our treasures in our arms when we exit the door to get dressed.
Hanging on hooks are coveralls, but not the work coveralls you see people wear. These coveralls are made of paper. They give each boy a pair of white slippers, a white paper coverall and a white hat. They also give us paper underwear. I’ve never seen paper underwear before. We all look at each other and some joke we look like house painters. Others are sad because it looks like we won’t be getting our clothes back.
When we exit the last door there is a barber there waiting to shave our heads. We will all look alike, bald heads and white overalls. If we didn’t look like gang members before, we do now. Memo is called to the barber chair next. He turns and looks at me before going over to the chair.
