My Fathers Journey - Part 1

He lay motionless, barely breathing, feeling the coolness of the mud penetrating the front of his shirt. He lay like that for hours, trying to control his heart pace, slow rhythmic breathing. He thought about how he had been hiding by the legs of the front side passenger, and how the driver, upon reaching the check point, had panicked and said “vale madre, ya saben…ay que correr”. He remembered how with in seconds the car was emptied, bodies running away from the check point, the yells of the now surprised patrol officers.

He had stayed behind, hidden, the glove compartment pressing against his head; when the officers passed by he got out and ran in the opposite direction. He ran with out looking back, with out knowing where he was running to, he ran as if his life depended on it.

It did.

He went into the bush, struggled with low hanging branches and rocks, almost tripping over his own feet, over his fear. Heart pounding, his heart condition suddenly not an issue. As he ran he had noticed a small break in the tree line; something told him “there” and he lunged towards it, his body flew downwards as the ground gave out into a muddy rain aqueduct. His muscles gave out and he covered himself with branches, leaves what ever he could find.

Now he was stoic; trying to immerse him-self with the brush and mud. He could hear the officers looking for him. Yelling “we are going to find you.” Mixed Spanish “vas a ver cabron” and other insults. Fear was gripping him slowly, entering his body much like the mud which now soaked his clothes. He wondered what had happened to the others that had run. What had happened to the two young guys in the trunk of the car.

His mind was racing, thoughts of his family; the last time he had seen them, the car they were in drove off. The pain he had felt in his heart as his son looked out the back window and waved. Now the sun began to slowly set, the sounds of the officers began to grow fainter. They had gone.

In an imitation of military fashion, he began to drag his body along the aqueduct, slowly, stopping when ever he heard noise, pressing his body to the ground and holding every breath. Minutes or hours later, he was not sure; he came across a highway blocking his path, the only way to cross it was either go above and take a chance with the speeding cars or to go through a pipe that went underneath the highway. Exhausted he closed his eyes and slept.

When he awoke it was dark, the sounds of the speeding cars surrounded him, as did the faint lights of their head lights racing past. He crawled close to the pipe opening, no way to tell how far down it goes -he thought. Paying no mind to the terrible claustrophobia that had always haunted him; he braced himself and crawled into the pipe. Inside the putrid smell of garbage, mold and rat shit invaded his nostrils. It was dark and he could not see the end.

His body barely fitting, he was glad for his small 5’4” frame as he dragged his way across. Insects ran down his body, the smell impregnated his clothes and the pipe seemed to go on forever. Pain no longer harbored his body, he was too tired to feel anything; it was as if he was only moving out of sheer inertia, just motions with out thoughts. He was too tired. As he came out of the pipe he let his body drop; he saw only the dark wilderness ahead of him. Me voy a perder. Not sure where he was or where to go he decided the best option would be to stay close to the highway. It had to hit a town eventually.

He willed his exhausted body up and began to walk.